The cold wind howled above the settlement, but it couldn't suppress the restless energy simmering among the people.
Gunnhildr, Coppelia, and a few clansmen in charge of logistics stood gathered around a crudely drawn map, upon which small stones representing various supplies were laid out.
"All the meat from the hunt has been smoked, and with the previously stored dried fish, we have enough to sustain everyone for fifteen days," a man with frostbite on his face reported in a loud voice.
Coppelia looked at the map, roughly estimating the distance from their current location to the Thousand Winds Temple area.
Previously, when dealing with the boar infestation, the wolf pack had carried them west from Starfell Valley to the island in the center of Cider Lake and back to their territory in less than a single night.
The migrants' caravan couldn't use the wind to speed up their travel like the wolves, and with many people who had difficulty moving to care for, their pace wouldn't be fast. Fortunately, there weren't many obstacles in terms of terrain or monsters along the way. Coppelia estimated it would take seven days at most to reach their destination.
The current supplies were more than enough, whether for regular distribution or emergencies. It made the past ten-odd days she and Columbina had spent running around—hunting, fishing, and even helping with demolition and retrofitting—worthwhile.
Gunnhildr nodded, her fingertip tracing an eastward path on the map. "What about the sleds?"
"All the usable ones have been reinforced. There aren't many, so they'll mainly be used to transport the elderly and children who can't walk easily, as well as essential tools and food," another person answered.
Coppelia listened quietly to the discussion, adding a word or two occasionally.
The preparations for the migration were nearly complete. It was time to set out!
...
Coppelia's gaze swept over the camp. She saw people moving the last of their belongings out of their houses. Some of the sturdier wooden cabins were being carefully dismantled, their thick beams and planks bundled up to be taken along. Every nail, every intact animal hide, was treated as a treasure.
The fruits of their supply preparations were evident in the neat rows of bundled sleds, the heavy sacks of dried meat, and the hopeful expressions on people's faces as they looked to the road ahead.
As the first faint light of dawn pierced the lead-gray clouds, the caravan of migrants finally began to move.
There was no rousing bugle call, only Gunnhildr's steady command: "Let's move out." The column, like a slowly slithering python, slid silently into the boundless snowy plains.
The snow was deep, reaching past an adult's knees. The people trudged forward, one heavy step after another. The crunch of breaking snow crust, the scrape of sleds over the surface, and heavy panting intertwined to form a melody of march.
The cold wind continued to whip up flurries of snow, lashing at their heavily wrapped faces and freezing into white frost.
The column stretched long, with short shouts echoing from front to back to prevent anyone from falling behind or into a snowdrift.
Just as the rear of the column was about to completely leave the old camp, a figure darted nimbly out of the snowy woods to the side, silently falling in with them.
It was a youth with gray hair. His frame was lean, and his movements possessed a beast-like coordination and alertness. He was wrapped in crude animal skins, and his eyes were as sharp as a wolf's.
Gunnhildr noticed him quickly. She slowed her pace, waiting for him to approach.
"Lupus?" She recognized the boy. "Did Andrius send you to follow us?" She had spent a fair amount of time with Lupus and naturally knew of his desire to integrate with people, as well as the not-entirely-successful attempts he had made.
Lupus shook his head. "No. I wanted to come myself."
His gray eyes swept over the large yet fragile column of humans before him. "I grew up with the wolves, but I'm not a wolf, after all. I think... I'm ready to join you." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Can I leave with you?"
Gunnhildr studied him. The boy's eyes held a clarity born of firm resolution.
She nodded without further questions. "Keep up. Go find Parsifal. I don't need to tell you the rules of human society again, do I?"
Lupus gave her a nod of acknowledgment before heading towards the rear of the column.
...
Their progress was slower than expected. This wasn't because the path was difficult, but by design.
There were too many elderly, women, and children in the group; a forced march could easily lead to casualties.
The column strictly followed a rhythm of "march at sunrise, rest at sunset." When the wind and snow intensified and visibility dropped, they would find a leeward spot to make camp early, ensuring their safety.
Every time they stopped to rest, the people would skillfully clear away the snow, set up hide tarps as windbreaks, light bonfires to melt snow for water, and distribute food.
Children snuggled close to their mothers, men checked their weapons and sleds, and the elderly silently conserved their energy.
Columbina often pulled Coppelia to sit quietly at the edge of the crowd, neither disturbing nor participating, just listening intently to the trivial conversations.
Most people talked about the Mondstadt of the past, of a beautiful world without ice and snow, of sick family members at home, or of a piece of jerky they had forgotten in their pack while on duty.
Coppelia, on the other hand, spent more time scanning the camp's surroundings for potential risks.
...
One evening after they had made camp, the bonfires burned a little brighter than usual, dispelling some of the chill and fatigue.
It's unclear who started it, but a low tune began to sound as a bard strummed his worn-out lyre.
Soon, a few other voices joined in, humming the wordless melody.
Gradually, more people began to hum along, and some started to softly add familiar lyrics.
The song was faint at first, but as more and more people joined, the voices gradually converged, becoming robust and powerful, echoing across the vast, empty snowfields and temporarily overpowering the howling wind.
The firelight illuminated faces that were weary yet glowed with a strange radiance. For a moment, the song made them forget the bitter cold and their uncertainty.
Columbina sat beside Coppelia, completely captivated.
She watched the fleeting smiles and solace that the song brought to people's faces. Her lips moved slightly, and she subconsciously began to hum along softly with the melody.
Her voice was ethereal and pleasant, but it was clear she had never had any vocal training. Her pitch wavered, high and low, and her rhythm was a beat behind, clashing with the unified chorus of the crowd.
Columbina noticed the curious glances from others, and the sound in her throat died abruptly. A faint, almost imperceptible blush crept onto her pale face as she lowered her head in embarrassment, making no further attempt.
Coppelia took it all in. The Columbina she knew from the game before she transmigrated was an excellent singer. But she hadn't heard her sing once on this journey. It seemed this skill wasn't something she was born with.
She turned her head, leaned closer to Columbina, and said in a calm voice, "Do you want to learn?"
Columbina looked up at Coppelia and nodded earnestly. "Mhm. I want to learn. When they hear the song... they don't seem as tired, and they look very happy."
Coppelia was silent for a moment, gazing at the burning bonfire and the people warming each other with their voices in its light. Then she looked back at Columbina.
"Okay," she said simply.
___
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