The warmth of the bonfire feast had yet to fade when a new problem arrived with the morning wind.
A serious one.
What to do with the seventeen snow wolf cubs.
Inside a hastily erected meeting tent, Colin convened representatives from each tribe.
The smell of roasted meat still lingered faintly on their clothes. Traces of last night's joy clung to their faces—
But the atmosphere now was heavy.
Measured.
"Put them together," Barton said, arms crossed, voice rough. "Let them fight for food. The strongest survive. That's how beasts grow."
"No!"
Lyra snapped immediately, her broken tail lashing behind her.
"They've barely been weaned! They're still babies—if we do that, they'll die!"
Her eyes burned with urgency.
"And we're trying to tame them, not raise a pack of monsters!"
Murmurs spread.
Arguments followed.
No one lacked opinions—
But no one had a real solution.
Because everyone understood one thing:
These cubs were hope.
But mishandled—
They could become disaster.
"Enough."
Colin's voice wasn't loud.
But it cut through the noise instantly.
Silence fell.
He stood slowly, his gaze sweeping across the gathered leaders before settling briefly on the tents where the cubs were being held under guard.
"First," he said, voice steady, "we need to be clear about what they are."
A pause.
"They are not pets."
"Not hunting dogs."
His eyes hardened.
"They are the future of Blackwood Castle."
No one spoke.
"Our legs across the snowfields."
"Our advantage in war."
"Our edge against any enemy."
Each word landed heavier than the last.
"Their value…" he continued quietly, "…is no less than any warrior sitting in this tent."
A beat.
"Not one of them can be lost."
A chill passed through the room.
This was no longer a discussion about animals.
This was strategy.
"Which means," Colin went on, "they must be raised with the utmost care."
His gaze sharpened.
"I need people who are patient. Experienced. Responsible."
He let the silence linger.
"Who will take this on?"
No one moved.
Raising livestock was one thing.
Raising predators—
Was another entirely.
Then—
A figure stepped forward.
Slow.
Quiet.
Unassuming.
An old deer-man.
His back was slightly bent, his frame thin with age. Time had carved deep lines into his face—
But his eyes were calm.
Still.
Like a forest pool untouched by wind.
"Chief…"
His voice was hoarse, but steady.
"In my tribe… I cared for the herds. From birth… to adulthood."
A small pause.
"…I can try."
Haske glanced at him, recognition flickering.
During their escape, it had always been this old man who found hidden moss, buried roots—enough to keep children alive.
Animals never feared him.
They followed him.
Haske nodded slightly.
"He's a good choice."
Colin didn't hesitate.
"Alright."
He stepped forward.
"From this moment on—Elke, you are Blackwood Castle's first Wolf Breeder."
The title hung in the air.
New.
Strange.
Important.
"You will have priority over supplies, manpower, and shelter," Colin continued. "Anything you need, report directly to Lina."
A pause.
"You answer to me."
Elke said nothing.
He simply bowed.
Deeply.
Then he turned—and chose two deer-women known for their patience and gentle hands.
Thus, the first wolf-breeding team of Blackwood Castle was formed.
Their first task—
A home.
In a sheltered corner of the fortress, they built a den from branches and layered hides. Thick grass lined the ground, soft and dry, holding warmth against the cold.
Then came the real challenge.
Feeding them.
The cubs, torn from their mother, were bundles of fear and instinct.
They huddled together, growling softly, tiny fangs bared in warning.
Even in their weakness—
They were wolves.
Elke approached slowly.
In his hands—a wooden bowl.
Inside it, finely minced venison, mixed with warm water into a soft, fragrant porridge.
He didn't step closer.
Didn't reach out.
Didn't force them.
He set the bowl down.
Then sat.
Cross-legged.
At a distance.
And began to hum.
A low, gentle tune.
No words.
Just sound.
Like wind through branches.
Like water over stone.
Time passed.
Slowly.
Then—
One cub moved.
The smallest.
The hungriest.
It crept forward, nose twitching, body low.
Step by step.
It paused at the bowl.
Glanced at Elke.
Then—
Licked.
Warmth.
Meat.
Life.
In an instant, instinct took over.
It buried its head into the bowl, devouring eagerly.
The others followed.
One.
Two.
Then all of them.
Seventeen small bodies crowded together, pushing and squeaking, filling the den with clumsy energy.
Elke smiled.
Just slightly.
From that day forward—
The routine began.
Feeding.
Cleaning.
Warming.
Watching.
Day and night, in shifts.
Wooden spoons.
Warm cloths.
Patient hands.
And slowly—
Change came.
The growls softened.
The fear faded.
Familiar footsteps began to mean food.
Warmth.
Safety.
Soon—
Tiny paws would scramble forward at the sound of Elke's approach.
Little bodies bumping into one another.
Soft whimpers of excitement.
Blackwood Castle began to change with them.
Each morning, when Elke brought the cubs out into the snow—
People gathered.
Watching.
Smiling.
Children pressed against windows, eyes wide with wonder.
Even Patton—
Rough, scarred, unshakable—
Would slow his steps.
Just for a glance.
Once, a cub tumbled to his feet and nudged his boot.
He froze.
Awkward.
Then… didn't move away.
Something softened.
Just for a moment.
These creatures—
Were no longer just weapons.
They had become something else.
Something shared.
Something loved.
From the watchtower, Colin watched it all.
Elke guiding the cubs through the snow.
Children laughing as they followed.
Different tribes—
Standing together.
For the first time—
Not as survivors.
But as a people.
Colin exhaled slowly.
These were not just future mounts.
They were a bond.
After hunger.
After battle.
After blood—
This…
Was what would hold them together.
A home.