Xairo shivered as an icy breeze ruffled his fur, chilling him to the bone. He couldn’t help but cast a glance toward Zagan and Ludo, to see if the cold cut them as deep as it had him. But of course, he didn’t want to seem weak in front of his brothers. Xairo trudged onward through the frosty night, determined not to let his brothers see how the bitter cold affected him. His paws felt numb and clumsy as they crunched through the icy grass. Until he could take it no more. “We should set up camp- or at least stop for a rest.” He growled through gritted teeth- more or less to keep his teeth from chattering. It was a shame to stop now, with home being just a territory away. But if they didn’t find warmth now, he was certain that he’d freeze solid.

Xairo scanned their surroundings, his sharp green eyes searching for anything that could provide shelter from the biting cold. A cluster of pine trees caught his attention, their dense boughs promising a respite from the wind.

"Over there," he barked, nodding his head towards the grove. Without waiting for his brothers' agreement, Xairo charged forward, his paws kicking up small puffs of snow as he ran. As they reached the trees, Xairo began to paw at the ground, scraping away the snow to create a shallow depression. "Help me gather some pine needles and branches," Xairo instructed, his voice muffled by the mouthful of foliage he had already collected. "We can use them to make a bed and insulate ourselves.”

266 words.
"Xairo Saxe"

In the heart of the Sparse Pines, Zagan was traveling with his brothers. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows of gold and amethyst across the autumn sky. The nights were growing colder by the day- the air now crisp with the tinge fallen leaves and crystallizing dew. The once long, summer-time sunsets were quicker now- the forest transforming as darkness encroached, the brilliant colors fading into muted hues before they could reach The Polar Sound. Each breath they drew came out in visible puffs, mist starting to rise from the ground, curling around the bases of the ancient trees. A shutter ran through Zagan, and the chill in the air became palpable- the bite of the cold seeping through his fur, making his skin prickle and his tail flick to and fro.

When Xairo suggested they build a camp for the night, Zagan paused, glancing at his brother’s with an analyzing eye. They both seemed equally as irritated by the cold as he was, and they didn’t have enough time to reach their den’s in The Polar Sound. So long as they were in The Syndicate’s domain, they could set up a camp anywhere, really- and a camp out in the Sparse Pines might do their survival instincts some good. Nodding, he expresses his agreement with the notion, before turning his bi-colored gaze to their surroundings. A gust of wind picked up around them, and a shiver involuntarily ran through him, as he felt the weight of the impending night bearing down on his shoulders.

There was a cluster of pine trees nearby, their dense boughs large enough to provide cover from the gusts of wind. Xairo gave a command to collect pine needles and branches, and Zagan huffed at him, and cocked a brow in his direction. Who was he to order him around? “I’m going to find logs for a fire.” He says, reluctant to follow his brother’s instructions. Xairo and Ludo could work on collecting pine needles and branches for bedding.

Sauntering away, Zagan moves through the dimming forest, weaving between the towering pine trees. His eyes are scanning the ground, searching for fallen logs and clusters of bark. After collecting a few logs and setting them in a pile near their makeshift bed, he returns to the forest, searching for a pine tree that hasn’t become laden with nighttime dew. He chooses the driest tree in the area, and begins scratching at the bark with his claws, to reveal the smooth wood underneath. Collecting a few strips, he knew these pieces would catch fire quickly- he could use them to start the fire, and add the logs to keep it going.

The moon was hanging low in the heavens now, casting a pale light across the floor, urging them to work faster. Or they might freeze before the morning came. Having collected enough wood and kindling to start their fire, Zagan started to arrange his supplies, creating a foundation with the smaller twigs and leaves. His toes were starting to feel numb from the cold, his heart racing in anticipation as the urge to start the fire and warm their bodies increased by the second.

After carefully layering the kindling, Zagan tucked the smooth, dry pieces of pine he’d collected in the center of the kindling- the thin strips promising to catch fire easily. He’d use his blade to create sparks- striking it against a rock with enough force to send tiny sparks flying into the kindling. The bark caught the sparks, and flames slowly started to flicker to life. To coax the flame upward, Zagan leaned down and gently blew on it. And once it was flickering and crackling rhythmically, he added the rest of the sticks he collected, and ended with the logs.

As the warmth of the flame enveloped the small clearing, a rush of satisfaction rolled through him. Slowly, it would thaw the chill that seeped into his bones, as the flame illuminated their surroundings, casting shadows that played across the trees. He glanced at his brothers, motioning for them to join him beside the fire, once they were done creating their bedding.

word count: 695


"Zagan Saxe"

Ludovic’s gaze flicked over to Xairo, a trace of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched his brother stiffen against the cold, his breath curling visibly in the biting air. The wind barely affected Ludo—his thick, chimeric coat did its job well enough, though he couldn’t pretend it was comfortable. Ice clung to his fur in patches, and as he flexed his paws, he realized how numb his toes had grown from the packed snow wedging itself between them. Damn, he thought, I can't feel half my toes. But he’d always been good at handling the cold—maybe a little too good for his own good. Hadn’t they been born in the winter? Isn’t there a reward for that shit? Some kind of fur blessing. Briefly he remembered when Zagan went around in a coat—cold from a lack of fur. But he didn’t bring it up, not in the mood for getting bit or jabbed with those horns.

With an easy gait, he padded over to where Xairo was digging, each step deliberately slow to conserve heat and energy. "You know," he drawled, watching his brother’s grimace, "if you keep scowling like that, your face might freeze that way.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, punctuated by a wry chuckle. “And no one wants a permanently grumpy Xairo, now, do they?” He leaned down, nudging Xairo with his shoulder in a mock attempt to lighten the mood. His tone was casual, but he kept an eye on Xairo’s furrowed brow, the tight set of his jaw. His brother’s didn’t exactly speak their emotions, none of them did; so Ludovic had taken to looking deeper in. The cold was biting harder at him than he let on, maybe it was doing the same to all three of them.

Without skipping a beat, Ludo dropped the playful tone and crouched down, clawing the ground in steady, efficient motions to clear the snow. Each movement was exact, conserving his warmth as he worked. “Good thinking,” he murmured approvingly, inclining his head toward the bedding materials Xairo had begun gathering. “Better to stop now and keep ourselves in one piece than freeze halfway back.” His voice softened slightly, though it retained that neutral timbre, the one he wore whenever he offered praise sparingly. Not that it was necessary, but Ludovic wasn’t tight-lipped enough to enjoy silence. He rather liked the sound of his own voice, too.

He glanced over to Zagan, his mismatched eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It was an unspoken question, a half-smirk that asked Zagan to help—unless you’d rather sleep on the frozen dirt, his look seemed to say.

Ludovic couldn’t hold back a laugh as he watched Zagan, head held high in that defiant way of his, march off to collect logs instead of stooping to help with the bedding. A grin broke over his face, his mismatched eyes gleaming with amusement. "Well, at least he’s got pride to keep him warm," he muttered to Xairo, his tone light with teasing. There was no real frustration there, only the easy, familiar dance of their differing stubborn streaks playing out. It was too normal to bother him.

As the minutes stretched on, Ludovic’s grin faded into a thoughtful look, and he continued helping to layer pine needles and build up a low snow wall to help with the wind. Every so often, he’d glance up, watching as Zagan brought fire materials. Ludovic straightened, watching him as he’d finished his own task already.

Wordlessly, Zagan began arranging the logs and kindling, drawing his knife and striking it against a rock—a few moments later, the sharp crackle of a fire flickered to life. Ludovic felt the immediate warmth wash over his face, and he stretched his paws toward it, sighing contentedly as the heat chased away the numbness in his toes.

“Well, look at that,” he drawled, amused, “Zagan the fire-making prodigy.” The flames danced, shadows flickering over their coats, and for a moment, he felt a quiet satisfaction settle in his chest.


wc: 673 words

"Ludovic Praetor-Inferos"