The wind and snow outside the cave had stopped at some unknown time, leaving only the howling night wind sweeping up residual snow, creating a “wuwu” echo against the rock face, much like the low moan of an ancient giant beast.
But this chill was blocked outside the cave by the thick rock walls and the flickering flames in the fire pit.
The warmth deep inside the cave made them almost forget that it was the bitter winter of the wilderness.
Newly split hardwood was added to the fire pit, and the flames leaped higher than they had in the evening.
The orange-red light washed over everyone’s faces, stretching the flickering silhouettes on the cave walls long.
The able-bodied men who had gone out during the day to find food had not yet returned—John had gone to the Eastern Valley with Mark and three Hunters,
Shi led another group toward the river on the west side.
Based on the time, they should have returned before sunset, but there was still no sign of them.
The atmosphere in the cave quietly grew heavier.
The unease that had just been dispelled by the flames slowly wrapped around the hearts of the Tribesmen, like damp animal hide.
Several elders leaned in the corner, their eyes fixed on the direction of the cave entrance, their fingers unconsciously rubbing the worn animal hides on their bodies;
The women holding children hugged them tighter.
The children were long asleep, but their little brows were still furrowed, as if they were worried about food even in their dreams.
Even Yuna, who had been busy all day, stopped her mending hands at this moment, gazing at the pitch-black night outside the cave, lightly twisting the animal sinew thread between her fingers.
Alex sat by the fire pit, taking all of this in.
He knew that the warmth and hope brought by the fire were not yet firm, and the fear in the hearts of the Tribesmen—the fear of hunger, the fear of the unknown, the fear of losing companions—had not truly dissipated.
He had to do something to let this nascent confidence take root.
He picked up a burning wooden branch and gently poked the charcoal in the fire pit, causing sparks to fly up and attracting the attention of the Tribesmen.
“Everyone, stop staring at the entrance,”
His voice was not loud, but it carried a reassuring strength.
“John and Shi are the most skilled Hunters in the Tribe.
They are familiar with the mountains and rivers; they will be fine.
Maybe they found prey and are figuring out how to transport it back?”
These words were like a small stone tossed into the water, and several young Tribesmen looked up, a flicker of expectation in their eyes.
But Old Man Ku Mu, sitting on the edge, shook his head, his voice hoarse:
“Alex, you don’t know, this winter is too strange.
In the Eastern Valley, there used to be rabbit dens at this time of year, but this year there isn’t even a footprint;
The ice on the western river is three feet thicker than in previous years; we can’t even break through it.
They…
I’m afraid they won’t have much success.”
Ku Mark’s words caused the rising expectation to fade again, and the cave fell silent once more.
Only the “crackle” of the flames was exceptionally clear.
Seeing this, Alex simply stood up, walked to the center of the fire pit, and raised the wooden branch in his hand, letting the firelight illuminate more faces:
“I know everyone is worried, but worrying alone is useless.
Why don’t I tell you all a story,
It’s a story my father used to tell me, about the ancestors of our Flame Stone Tribe.”
“A story about the ancestors?”
A He, the child sitting in the front row, immediately widened his eyes, forgetting his previous anxiety.
“Alex, are they ancestors who were good at hunting?”
Alex smiled and nodded, crouching down to meet A He’s gaze:
“Yes, a long, long time ago, our Flame Stone Tribe encountered a winter even colder than this one.
Our ancestors had it much harder than we do now.”
He paused deliberately, waiting for all the Tribesmen’s attention to focus on him before speaking slowly:
“Back then, it snowed for a whole month, nearly blocking the cave entrance.
The Tribe’s food was long gone, and even tree bark was frozen hard like stone, impossible to chew.
One day, the Tribe’s Chief—the Chief at that time was named’Shan’— a warrior who could lift a stone axe and split open a Black Bear—he gathered everyone and said,
‘We cannot wait here to starve; we must go find a way to survive.'”
“He took five of the strongest Hunters, carrying their stone axes, and went out into the waist-deep snow.
When they left, they only took a few pieces of frozen animal bone.
The people in the Tribe all thought they wouldn’t return.
They waited at the entrance every day, watching the snow continue to fall.”
Speaking up to this point, Alex glanced at the cave entrance.
The Tribesmen’s breathing became lighter, as if they were following his story, waiting for news of the ancestors.
“Until the seventh day, as dusk approached, someone saw dark shapes moving in the distant snow.
Everyone ran out to look, and it was Chief Shan and his men returning!
But they were all badly injured—Chief Shan’s arm had been bitten by a wolf and was bleeding; one Hunter’s leg was so swollen it looked like a tree root.
But in the animal hide bags on their backs, they carried three frozen Snow Foxes, and a bag of Wild Chestnuts hidden in the snow!”
“It turned out they had walked in the mountains for seven days, encountered a Wolf Pack, and fought them for a day and a night before driving them away;
They found Wild Chestnuts in a sheltered rock crevice—those were the ones Squirrels had hidden in the autumn.
They dug out the chestnuts, caught the Snow Foxes, and managed to make it back.”
Alex’s voice gradually grew louder, imbued with strength:
“At that time, the ancestors gathered around the fire pit, roasting Snow Fox meat and eating the softened chestnuts.
Chief Shan said that as long as the people of the Flame Stone Tribe didn’t give up, as long as they could guard this fire together, they could endure the coldest winter and overcome the hardest times.
Later, spring arrived, and prey became plentiful in the mountains.
The Tribe not only survived but also grew stronger.”
The cave was remarkably quiet.
Everyone stared at the flames in the fire pit, as if they could see the ancestors eating meat around the bonfire within the flames.
A He clenched his small fists and whispered:
“Chief Shan is so amazing!
We can also make it through, just like the ancestors, right?”
“Right!”
Alex nodded heavily, looking at everyone,
“We have fire now, we have the ability to make fire, and we have each other.
John and Shi will definitely return with food, just like Chief Shan.
When spring comes, we can find more wild vegetables, catch more prey, and even plant grain, so we never have to fear winter again!”
The Old Shaman leaned on his wooden staff and spoke slowly, his voice carrying unprecedented determination:
“Alex is right, the ancestors are watching us.
As long as we are united, there is no hurdle we cannot overcome.”
Yuna also nodded, stood up, and walked to the corner, distributing the remaining dry grass to everyone:
“Everyone rest for a while.
I’ll guard the fire pit.
When Chief John and the others return, we’ll have hot food.”
Long-lost smiles finally appeared on the Tribesmen’s faces.
Even Old Man Ku Mu relaxed his brows, and began quietly recounting scenes of the Tribe’s past bountiful harvests—who caught the biggest deer, who picked the sweetest wild fruits, and whose stone axe was the sharpest.
A He pestered Alex to tell another story about the ancestors.
Alex then made up a short story about the ancestors making Stone Tools and hunting Mammoths, which made the children’s eyes sparkle.
The warmth inside the cave no longer came solely from the fire pit; it also came from the hope rekindled in the hearts of the Tribesmen.
Alex watched this scene and quietly breathed a sigh of relief—he knew that the power of words was sometimes more important than technology, especially in such a desperate situation, a resonant story could reunite scattered spirits.
Just then, a long, mournful howl suddenly came from outside the cave.
“Awooo—”
The sound pierced the night wind, struck the rock face, and carried a bone-chilling cold, instantly silencing the laughter in the cave.
A He immediately threw himself into his mother’s arms in fear, beginning to cry softly;
The Tribesmen who had just relaxed instantly tensed up, grabbing the stone axes and Long Spears beside them, their eyes vigilantly fixed on the entrance;
The Old Shaman suddenly stood up, heavily striking the ground with the wooden staff in his hand, his voice urgent:
“It’s wolves!
It’s a Wolf Pack!”
Alex’s heart sank as well.
Before his transmigration, he had encountered wolves outdoors, but those were Lone Wolves.
This howl, however, was long and powerful, clearly the leader of the Wolf Pack summoning its companions.
What worried him more was that the sound was not far from the cave, meaning the Wolf Pack was already close.
He immediately went to the entrance, carefully lifted the animal hide blocking the opening, and looked outside.
The night was pitch-black, with only scattered residual snow reflecting faint light; he couldn’t see the shadows of the wolves, but the “awooo” howl sounded again, this time closer, mixed with the answering calls of other wolves, coming from all directions, as if they had surrounded the cave.
“This is bad, the Wolf Pack has surrounded us!”
Alex immediately drew back and said to the Tribesmen,
“Don’t panic, everyone!
Wolves fear fire.
Let’s make the fire pit burn brighter, and take more burning wooden branches to guard the entrance.
The wolves won’t dare to come in!”
Although the Tribesmen were afraid, hearing Alex’s calm voice, they immediately took action—the young men added all the dry firewood to the fire pit, making the flames leap half a person’s height;
The women protected the children in the innermost part of the cave, gripping short wooden branches in their hands;
Yuna and the Old Shaman guarded the other entrance.
This cave had two small entrances, one for entry/exit and one for ventilation, to prevent the Wolf Pack from launching a sneak attack from the side.
Alex picked up a burning hardwood branch and stood at the main entrance, his eyes fixed on the pitch-black night outside.
The firelight illuminated the snow near the entrance, showing several blurry dark shapes moving quickly on the snow—the figures of the wolves.
They did not attack immediately, only pacing outside the entrance, letting out low growls, as if testing the situation, or waiting for more companions.
“They are waiting for dawn, or waiting for our fire to die down.”
The Old Shaman walked up to Alex, his voice serious,
“In past winters, when Wolf Packs got desperate from hunger, they would attack Tribes, especially small, isolated ones.
We are few in number and have few weapons; we cannot hold out for too long.”
Alex gritted his teeth, quickly calculating in his mind—currently, there were only five Young Men capable of fighting in the Tribe, plus himself and the Old Shaman, totaling seven people.
Meanwhile, there were at least a dozen wolves in the Wolf Pack outside.
A direct confrontation was impossible.
They could only rely on fire and the terrain to guard the entrance and wait for John and Shi to return with support.
He glanced at A He, who was still crying in his mother’s arms, and then at the Tribesmen beside him, who were clutching their stone axes, their eyes fearful yet persistent.
He took a deep breath:
“Don’t be afraid.
We have fire, and we have each other.
As long as we hold out tonight, when John returns, we can drive the Wolf Pack away!”
The flames in the fire pit continued to flicker, reflecting determination on everyone’s faces.
The wolf howls outside the cave grew closer and denser, but the panic from earlier had vanished inside the cave—because they knew, that as long as they guarded this fire and guarded each other, they could wait for dawn, and wait for hope.
Alex gripped the burning wooden branch in his hand, his gaze sharp as he stared at the dark shapes at the entrance, silently thinking:
“The Flame Stone Tribe’s first battle begins tonight.”