Kael woke slowly, the kind of waking where the body stirred before the mind dared to follow.

  For a long moment, he didn’t move. He listened.

  Wind brushing against stone. A distant bird. The quiet settling back into itself.

  Only then did he open his eyes.

  The pup lay curled against his side, warm and solid. Its leg was still bound, the cloth darkened but dry. Seeing it alive loosened something tight in Kael’s chest. He reached out carefully, resting his hand near its back.

  It didn’t flinch.

  Good.

  His body ached-not sharply, but in a dull, lingering way. A reminder of yesterday. Of fear, of adrenaline, of violence he still hadn’t fully processed.

  I’m still here, he thought. Somehow.

  Hunger followed soon after, a slow, hollow ache that refused to be ignored.

  Kael sat up and looked toward the corner of the tower where he’d hung the wolf carcass the night before, suspended with twisted straw and scavenged rope. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t clean.

  But it was food.

  At least… it should be.

  He hesitated.

  He had never done this before. Never skinned, never cooked, never cut raw meat with his own hands. In his old life, food had come wrapped and sealed-separated from the idea of death.

  This wasn’t separated.

  He took a breath, grabbed the sharp-edged stone he’d found earlier, and climbed down from the tower.

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  Outside, the air was cold and clear. Morning light spilled across the village ruins, softening broken walls and collapsed roofs. For a brief moment, the place almost looked peaceful.

  Almost.

  Kael worked slowly. Too slowly. His hands slipped once, then again, and he nicked his finger hard enough to sting. He swore under his breath, wiped the blood on his pants, and forced himself to continue.

  The smell made his stomach turn, but he pushed through it, cutting off a small portion. Not much. Just enough to try.

  When he finished, his hands were shaking.

  Now the fire.

  That part scared him more than it should have.

  Fire meant smoke. Smoke meant visibility.

  He chose a spot close to the tower wall, partially sheltered from the wind. Using dry straw, splintered wood, and sheer stubbornness, he tried.

  Failed.

  Tried again.

  Failed harder.

  By the third attempt, frustration bubbled up, sharp and hot.

  “Come on…” he muttered, knuckles white as he struck stone against stone again.

  Finally smoke. Then a weak, flickering flame.

  Kael froze, watching it like it might betray him.

  It didn’t.

  He fed it slowly, carefully, crouched low as if stealing warmth from the world. The fire never grew confident, never strong but it lived.

  And that felt like a victory.

  Cooking the meat was… questionable.

  It sizzled unevenly, one side darkening too fast while the other stayed pale. He rotated it awkwardly on a sharpened stick, hoping heat would do the rest.

  The smell changed. Less raw. More… food.

  When he finally tasted it, he braced himself.

  It was tough. Bland. Slightly burnt.

  But it was warm.

  Kael swallowed and let out a quiet, breathless laugh.

  “I’ll take it.”

  He saved a smaller piece for the pup, letting it cool before offering it. The creature sniffed, hesitated, then ate-slowly at first, then with growing eagerness.

  Kael watched until it finished, relief settling deep in his bones.

  The rest of the day passed in small tasks. Replacing loose straw. Clearing debris near the entrance. Nothing ambitious. Nothing brave.

  Just… living.

  Yet as the sun began to dip, unease crept back in.

  Not loud. Not threatening.

  Just… wrong.

  The fireflies appeared again near the forest edge, drifting in their strange, glowing line. Kael stood at the tower opening, watching them, unease crawling up his spine.

  They were beautiful.

  And he didn’t trust them.

  The pup stirred beside him, letting out a low sound not a howl, not fear. Something between curiosity and warning.

  Kael swallowed.

  “Not tonight,” he whispered, more to himself than anything else.

  When darkness finally claimed the village, exhaustion pulled him under. His last thought wasn’t fear.

  It was planning.

  Tomorrow, he would do better.

  And for the first time since waking in this world, he believed that might actually be true.