The smell reached Kael before the hunger did.

  Not bad yet, but close enough to twist his stomach.

  The wolf carcass swayed where he had tied it the night before, creaking softly in the morning breeze. Flies hovered nearby, cautious but persistent. Kael stood a few steps away, arms crossed, jaw tight.

  “So… that’s a problem,” he muttered.

  He had survived on berries and apples, even forced down a few badly cooked scraps the night before but this was different. Meat meant survival. Meat also meant rot, waste, and mistakes he didn’t yet know how to prevent.

  The pup padded up beside him, still limping slightly but clearly stronger than yesterday. It sniffed the air, ears twitching, then looked up at Kael with quiet expectation.

  “At least one of us knows what to do,” Kael said under his breath.

  He reached down and ran a hand along the pup’s back. It didn’t flinch. That small trust eased something tight in his chest.

  Kael turned back to the carcass, studying it more carefully. The meat worried him but the fur didn’t. Thick, coarse, and still intact.

  Even if I mess everything else up… this could matter later.

  Cold nights already made sleep difficult. Winter if there was one would be brutal.

  Using the same sharp-edged stone he’d carved with before, Kael began working at the hide. The task was slow and unpleasant. His hands cramped. The blade slipped. His fingers stung as small cuts opened and burned.

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  More than once, he had to stop, breathing through the smell and the frustration.

  “This would be easier if I had any idea what I’m doing,” he muttered.

  The pup watched him closely, head tilted, as if trying to understand why Kael kept growling at something that refused to move.

  By the time the sun climbed higher, Kael had managed to separate a usable section of fur. It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t neat. But it was something.

  He laid it out near the tower wall, hoping the open air would dry it before it spoiled.

  That was when his gaze drifted upward to the tower itself.

  Cracks spidered through the stone. Gaps yawned where wood once had been. Straw and scraps weren’t going to last forever.

  “I can’t just keep patching things like this,” he murmured.

  Real repairs meant real materials. Stone. Clay. Something solid.

  His eyes shifted toward the remains of the village. Most buildings had collapsed but not all. Some walls still stood. Some roofs hadn’t fully caved in.

  There has to be something usable.

  The pup followed as Kael began scavenging again, this time closer to the tower. It stayed near his heel, cautious but curious, occasionally stopping to sniff broken beams or fallen tiles.

  At one point, Kael paused and looked down.

  “You’re actually following me now,” he said, surprised.

  The pup wagged its tail once quick, uncertain but didn’t move away.

  That simple gesture warmed Kael more than the sun ever could.

  They found chunks of dried clay, fragments of stone, even old bricks half-buried in weeds. Kael stacked what he could near the tower entrance, ideas forming in his mind.

  Not solutions.

  Just… attempts.

  By midday, exhaustion crept in. His hands ached. His shoulders burned. The faint smell of meat still lingered in the air, heavy and unsettling.

  The pup nudged his leg, then trotted a short distance toward the edge of the clearing. It stopped and looked back, ears perked.

  Kael followed its gaze.

  A rabbit darted through the grass quick, alert.

  Kael smiled faintly.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  The pup shifted its weight, stronger now. More confident.

  Maybe not ready.

  But close.

  Kael tightened his grip on the spear, heart steady but cautious.

  Let’s see how far we’ve come.