I woke to a faint light filtering through the cracks in the hut wall. The fire had burned out, but the warmth of the night lingered—perhaps because Will was still sitting beside me.

  I lay with my head on his shoulder, the blankets wrapped around us. He was breathing calmly, awake but still.

  "Did you sleep at all?" I asked softly.

  "A little. But you needed it more."

  I smiled and carefully pulled myself into a sitting position. My body protested, stiff and tired, but something else made me wake faster than expected.

  There was a sound in the hut. A whisper. A faint, rasping breath.

  We turned at the same time.

  Sac.

  He still lay where Niva had left him—pale, wounded, but... he moved. His fingers gripped the fur beneath him, as if he were dreaming.

  I crawled forward. Will close behind.

  "Sac?" I whispered. "Can you hear me?"

  His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids. His lips moved. It was barely audible, but I could have sworn he said a name.

  "Tracy..."

  Will stared at me. "He said your name."

  "That can't be... he's been unconscious for days."

  But Sac moved again. A jerk, like something hit him from inside. Then it passed. His breathing grew calmer. Steady.

  Niva woke with a start in the corner.

  "I heard..." She got up immediately, rushed over to Sac and felt his forehead. "The fever's gone. That's impossible. He was bleeding out."

  "It's not impossible," Will said quietly. "Not if something helped him."

  We looked at each other. No one said Sacra's name. But it hung in the air.

  A little later, I went out with Will to fetch water. The air was cold and clear, the snow white and untouched between the trees. Birds sang faintly—as if nature whispered in the background but didn't dare speak aloud.

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  We followed the path toward the frozen brook, but after just a few meters, I stopped.

  "Do you see that?" I asked, pointing.

  It was a tree, but the bark had been torn in a pattern—not by animals, not by weather. They were symbols. Carved in swirling spirals and half-circles. Faintly familiar, like the ones on Sacra's staff.

  Will stepped closer, examining them. "This is old writing. Not ours."

  "It looks fresh," I said. "No more than a day old. Maybe less."

  Will looked around. The forest was still. Too still.

  Then we saw it.

  Further in, between the trees—a piece of cloth. Blood red. It hung from a branch as if someone had passed and snagged it. I stepped closer, touched it.

  Soft. Warm. Almost alive in my hand.

  "This doesn't belong to anyone in the clan," I said.

  Will gently pushed aside some branches. On the ground: tracks. Not from wolves. Not from shoes. Just bare feet, slender. Like someone had danced across the snow without leaving deep marks.

  And there—in the snow:

  A small, round stone. Perfectly smooth. Black, with a pale mark in the center.

  Will picked it up. Turned it in his fingers. "This symbol... it's Sacra's."

  I shivered. "Then she was here. Last night. Maybe even inside the hut."

  Will closed his hand around the stone. "And she touched Sac."

  "But why?" I whispered. "Why help him?"

  Will looked at me with a dark, steady gaze.

  "So we'll start to trust her."

  I held my breath. For a moment, it felt like the forest was listening. And someone smiled behind the trees.

  We said nothing on the way back. Only the wind and our footsteps were heard in the snow. Will walked close, as if he was constantly checking if I was breathing calmly—and I was. Despite everything. Despite the stone in his hand and the symbols on the tree. Because he was here.

  When we returned to the hut, Sac was still lying motionless, but his face had changed. Softer. Relaxed. Niva sat beside him, like a shadow, worried but relieved.

  "I think he's going to make it," she said without looking up. "Whatever you did out there... this is the first time his pulse is steady."

  Will and I exchanged a quick glance, but we said nothing. Not about the symbols. Not about the stone. It was too soon.

  When evening came, the wind lay heavy over the village. No one wanted to be outside longer than necessary. I sat in the corner with a blanket around me, my back to the wall. Will sat down beside me without asking.

  He was still holding the stone. It had grown cold, but he refused to let it go.

  "What if it wasn't a threat?" I said quietly.

  He looked at me. "What if it was a warning?"

  "Or a reminder," I replied. "That she still has power. And that she chooses who she touches."

  We fell silent again. I leaned my head against his shoulder, like the night before. As if our bodies already knew what we needed.

  "We don't say anything yet," I said. "Not to Rex. Not to Niva. They have enough to worry about."

  Will nodded. "It's just us."

  "Just us," I repeated, and smiled faintly.

  His hand found mine again, without hesitation this time. Our fingers intertwined, naturally. Like something we'd always done.

  And though the world around us seemed to shift... I felt no doubt at all.