The snowstorm was intense, it didn't seem natural, but a fury awakened.
The wind, once distant, now scraped against the rocks, sounding like a cry of pain. The cave entrance was turning into an open wound through which winter invaded. The snow didn't fall, it was thrown. Sharp ice crystals entered like needles, bringing a cold that the group's warmth barely fought.
The apes woke up and huddled together at the back of the cave, seeking the little warmth from the combined breath of nearby bodies.
Bura thumped his chest, worried:
— Cold... too much!
A youngling almost stopped breathing. An elderly female licked it, in a useless fight against the cold.
Mogu, touching the icy wall and learning from it, suddenly stood up.
He ran forward, against the wind.
— Mogu, no! — shouted a young one, frightened. — You'll freeze!
Mogu ignored him. He advanced over the snow that covered the cave floor.
The blizzard struck him as if it were full of ground glass, raising his fur and messing up his hair; he reached the entrance and struggled forcefully against the icy air that insisted on pushing him back.
The landscape was chaotic; there was no horizon, sky, or land, only icy mist and suffering.
Mogu lifted his arms, not in surrender, but in defiance. He spread his limbs, forming a straight silhouette against the storm. The chilled wind hit his exposed body and he did not tremble.
Instead, he took a deep breath.
And the warmth came.
Unlike before, when it was concentrated, it seemed that all the summer he kept in his chest had been released. The tingling in his chest turned into a fire.
His body began to radiate an invisible heat. Upon touching his skin, the snow melted and even forcefully vaporized, creating a circle of hot air around him.
Och-chiss... och-chiss...
There were hundreds of water particles turning into steam, a subtle relief, yet notable to all the other apes who watched him.
The entrance to the grotto, which radiated cold, filled with mist. The blizzard tried to enter, but was repelled by the invisible "wall" of heat created by Mogu. His body became the barrier, his warmth, the protection.
The entire group continued to watch from the back of the cave. They were figures enveloped in faint shadows, lit only by the weak glow coming from the irregular opening of the grotto. The stillness was thick, almost tactile, with the only sound being the slow drip of water sliding down the mist-shrouded walls.
Each of them had their gaze fixed on the scene unfolding between the outside and the inside, on the windy plateau.
The mountain cave, the current refuge, began to become precarious; the smell of wet earth and mold trembled in the cold climate that was warming up. They were together, but the tension isolated them mentally.
Bura slowly stood up, eyes wide:
— The summer... Mogu is the summer!
Attracted by the warmth, a young one approached cautiously. The temperature near Mogu was so different that it was similar to two worlds separated by a few steps.
One side was ice and destruction. The other, warm and safe life.
The youngling that almost froze opened its eyes, apparently animated.
At the entrance, Mogu remained with his arms open, his body trembling, not from cold, but from the effort of holding a power that wanted to explode.
Maintaining the heat came at a high cost. Every muscle in his body burned with the tension of directing the energy. His breathing was heavy, gasping, and the vapor that released from the blizzard was the only light thing he perceived.
— You can... — said Mogu. — You can come. Without fear.
They approached, one after the other. Not just the adults, but everyone: younglings, females, even the two youngsters who saw him melt ice, came towards him. Not to touch, but to feel the miraculous heat he radiated.
Some extended their hands, feeling the warm breeze on their cold skin. Others closed their eyes, letting the heat invade up to their chest.
The leadership was confirmed. The muscular ape didn't matter. The agile one, even less. The one capable of stopping a freezing storm — this one, yes, was the supreme.
Mogu's ability and intelligence guaranteed the respect of the group, who saw him as their leader, despite other strong males. First, Mogu guided the group to safe places; then, he defended everyone from the strong blizzard. Now, he was the very incarnation of warmth.
Bura settled down gently, with a posture of submission. He knelt before Mogu, still standing at the entrance, and bowed his head.
An unprecedented gesture in the group.
— Mogu protects — the fear and admiration were clear in Bura's hoarse voice. — Mogu is too strong!
The others understood.
This was no longer the male who knew how to defeat the ice. He was the protector. The one who stopped a blizzard with his own body.
As the storm hit the invisible barrier, Mogu kept his arms raised, feeling the untamable energy run through his body, untouched by any logic.
And, in the silence between the wind and the breaths, he thought:
The mountain sleeps, and I am not awake... I am lit.