Tallow candles are made.

The forest had not yet surrendered to winter, but She could feel its coming in the bones of the land. Each morning the creek ran colder against the stones, and frost silvered the fallen leaves before the first light reached the trees. The last of the great bosks had already begun their migration, and the forest paths were increasingly empty beneath the bare branches. In the traditions of the northern peoples of Gor, winter was not something to be endured by luck; it was something to be met with stores, fire, sound shelter, and careful preparation, and She had begun her preparations before the first snow.

Near the cave Scar had stacked armful after armful of seasoned wood beneath a covering of hides, keeping the driest pieces protected from rain and snow. Strips of meat hung from a smoking rack where the slow smoke darkened them and drew the moisture from the flesh, while gathered roots, nuts, dried berries, and herbs had been sorted into clay vessels and woven baskets. She had inspected the cured hides one by one, rubbing them with fat and working the leather between her fingers so that the cold would not find every weakness in the material. Even the bedding had been shaken, aired, repaired, and thickened with additional furs, for a warm sleeping place could matter as much as a blazing fire when the temperature fell beneath the stars.

But now it was the tallow that occupied Her that afternoon. Her battered pot sat beside the fire, filled with the rendered fat She had carefully saved from recent kills, and the cold had turned it into a pale, solid mass. She pressed her thumb into it and felt the resistance slowly give way as the heat softened its surface, then stirred it with a wooden paddle until it became glossy and fluid. The smell of animal fat mingled with smoke and the earthy scent of the cave, clinging to her hands as she worked. Nothing useful from a kill was casually discarded in the forest, and the tallow would now become stored fire for the dark days ahead.

She took up a length of twisted fiber and drew it slowly through the warm fat, feeling the rough strands become slick beneath her fingers. She lifted it, let the excess drip away, and rolled the coated wick between her palms until the tallow cooled into a thin, firm shell. Again She dipped it, again She rolled it, building the candle layer by layer until it became thick enough to burn for many ahns. For larger candles She secured the wick within hollowed wooden molds, then poured the warm tallow slowly around it, tapping the mold against the floor to settle the fat and watching the pale surface contract as it cooled.

While the candles hardened, She turned her attention to the other necessities of the coming season. She checked the bindings of her knife and tools, sharpened the edge of a small axe, and inspected the bowstrings and leather thongs for weakness. A spear was examined and set where it could be reached quickly, while additional kindling was carried inside and arranged beside the hearth. She also checked the water vessels and food stores, counting them rather than trusting Her memory, for a winter storm could close the forest trails for days and make a careless shortage into a serious matter.

At last She freed the candles from their molds and ran Her fingertips along their sides, feeling for cracks, soft places, or an improperly centered wick. Those that were uneven She warmed between Her palms and smoothed, pressing the softened tallow flat beneath Her fingers before setting them aside to harden again. She arranged the finished candles above the sleeping place, beside the dried herbs, carefully wrapped provisions, spare cord, and other small necessities that had been gathered for the cold season. Outside, the wind moved through the increasingly bare forest, and somewhere far off came the cry of a hunting bird.

It was still autumn, but the forest had begun to speak of winter in a language She understood. There was food stored, meat preserved, wood stacked, hides prepared, weapons maintained, and candles waiting to turn tallow into light when darkness came early. She crouched before the fire and held her hands toward its warmth, looking across the cave at the things she and Scar had gathered through many days of labor. Winter would bring cold, hunger, darkness, and perhaps danger, but they would not meet it empty-handed; they would meet it with the practical knowledge of a man and woman in the wilds of Gor, having transformed what the forest had given them into the things that might carry them through the season side by side.