Se’Kara has passed , it’s time to trade.

The Eighth Passing Hand, had settled firmly upon the Northern Forest, and there was no mistaking what it meant. The air had grown sharply colder, the forest canopy thinning as the leaves surrendered to the season, and the hours of useful daylight seemed to vanish almost as quickly as the warmth from the sun. Se’Kara had just passed and for hunters and Panther Girls alike, that was not a season for wasting time. It was the narrow window in which one gathered everything possible before the brutal northern winter closed its fist around the forest.

I had spent those passing hands wisely.

Wood had become nearly as important as food, and I had chopped enough to keep the fire burning for hands at a time, stacking the pieces outside the cave where I could reach them without wandering far into the snow. I had hunted whenever the forest offered me something worth taking, smoking and storing the meat carefully while continuing to eat fresh meat and fish whenever I could. My smoked provisions remained untouched, waiting for the days when fresh game would become scarce and leaving the cave might mean risking more than I was willing to risk. Every scrap of usable hide, bone, sinew, fat, and fur had been put to some purpose. I had learned that surviving winter was less about what one had in abundance and more about wasting absolutely nothing.

Even Ember had changed.

The tiny, helpless cub I had first gathered from beneath the brush was becoming a proper little predator. She had grown stronger with every passing hand, her legs steadier and her movements quicker, and recently she had begun bringing down small game on her own. They were not impressive kills by the measure of a grown hunter, but I had been unable to keep the pride from my face when she returned with her prize. I still watched her closely, of course, correcting her when she became careless and teaching her what I could, but she no longer needed me for every mouthful she ate. That alone made me breathe a little easier.

Still, there was one thing I could not hunt enough of to satisfy the coming winter.

Water.

I could melt snow when the forest was buried beneath it, but doing so consumed precious wood and left me dependent upon the fire for something that should have been simple. I wanted a second proper barrel stored within the cave, something large enough to keep a reserve of water close at hand when the snow came hard and deep. I had no desire to spend my winter trudging through deep snow simply to gather enough water to drink, especially when I could prepare for it now while the forest still allowed me to move freely.

So I decided it was time to trade.

I gathered several of the better pelts from my recent hunts, along with a number of the tallow candles I had made and poured in small clay pots. The pots were particularly useful; when the tallow burned down, it did not leave a puddle of grease melted across whatever surface happened to be beneath it. I bundled everything carefully, secured the load, checked my weapons, and prepared myself for the journey to trade.

The barrel was my first priority. The second was something to cover the extra wood.

I had no intention of watching weeks of chopping become useless beneath a heavy northern snowfall. A proper tarp-like covering would keep most of the wet and snow from settling into the stack while still allowing me to pull pieces free without digging half the pile out every time the fire needed feeding. Between the cave, the woodpile, the food stores, and the water barrel, I was beginning to think less like someone merely waiting out the winter and more like someone who intended to be here when spring finally returned.

That thought caught me strangely.

Here.

For so long, this place had been tied to one man. Scar’s cave. Scar’s fire. Scar’s sleeping furs. Scar’s weapons hanging where he had left them. But somewhere along the way, without realizing it, I had begun thinking of it simply as mine.

Ours, perhaps, when my thoughts betrayed me.

I pushed that thought away before it could settle too deeply. There was work to be done, and winter did not care whether a woman was lonely, angry, or waiting for someone who might never return. The forest would grow cold regardless, and the snow would cover every careless mistake.

So I tightened the straps of my pack, checked my weapons once more, glanced toward Ember, and prepared to make the trade. I had spent Se’Kara preparing for the winter.

Now I intended to make certain winter found me prepared; whether it was just me and Ember or…