I stood before the six trunks, fingers sunk into the cold bark.
Nice and warm in my coat.
I had told myself winter would kill me.
A failed experiment forgotten at the bottom of a freezer.
Nights grew longer, air sharper, and every morning I woke with numb fingers, chapped lips, and this thought gnawing at me: You are not equipped for this.
I tried convincing myself I could hold out. That I had survived worse. That cold was just a question of calories and movement.
But facts were stubborn: my clothes were ragged. Synthetic fabric of my old sweatshirt frayed like wet paper, and the technical jacket I arrived with gave up after two weeks rubbing bark and stone. I looked like a scarecrow after a storm. A frozen scarecrow.
And then I met it by chance.
A few days ago, I went out searching for dry wood near the eastern edge, where pine trees grow disorderly. Ground was hard, frozen in spots, each step crunching thin crust of snow under improvised boots, hare skin pieces sewn around wooden soles, a horror for insulation, but better than nothing.
My toes had been numb for an hour, and I concentrated on sound of my steps to not think about pain. One step. Another. Another. Survivor meditation.
It was the silence that alerted me.
Though forest always rustled, even in winter. Wind in branches, cracking trunks freezing, rubbing bark together.
No, it was the other silence. That of animals. No bird. No fleeing hare. Not even squirrel scratching bark. Just… void. Something erased living sounds with an eraser stroke.
I slowed. Then stopped.
My breath formed white clouds before me, and I felt pulse accelerate. No panic. Not yet. Just… attention. What silences a forest?
And then I saw it.
A dark shape, half buried under fallen pine. Too big for fox. Too immobile for hibernating bear. I crouched, fingers clenched around stick, my improvised weapon, useless against anything weighing over twenty kilograms, but reassuring anyway. Snow around was trampled, stained black traces. Dried blood. Lots of blood.
I approached.
It was a wolf.
Not any wolf. A male, massive, thick fur streaked grey and white. Its fangs protruded from curled lips, yellow, stained reddish brown. It lay on side, legs stiffened in posture screaming agony.
It had been killed recently. Cadaver rigidity hadn't fully seized yet. I didn't need touch wound to understand: a bite. Not another wolf's. Too wide, too irregular. Claw marks too. Flesh had been plowed before throat torn out.
A bear? Maybe. Or worse.
But at that moment, I didn't care.
Because before me, there was enough fur to save me from winter.
And a good feast of meat in sight too!
I set to work immediately.
First, skinning. My stone knife, quartz chip shaped into blade, wasn't ideal but worked. I started with hind legs, where skin thicker, more resistant.
The skill Leather & Fur Work guided me without thinking: there, cut between tendon and muscle. No, not like that—turn blade to not puncture. My fingers knew where to go before brain ordered them. It was… strange. Part of me knew how to do this.
Stench unbearable at first. Clotted blood, cooling entrails, metallic sweetish smell clinging nostrils. But after few minutes, I no longer smelled it. Or rather, yes: still there, but brain relegated it to background. Priority to task.
I worked methodically.
First belly skin, careful not puncture intestines.
Then legs, separated at joints with sharp knife blows.
Finally head, left. I didn't need trophy, just raw material.
When I turned carcass to access back, I felt something strange under fingers.
Not lump. Not wound.
A resonance.
I closed eyes by habit, though it didn't change anything. I reached hand toward fur. Ether present there, but differently. Didn't circulate around skin atoms… was bound to them. Wolf, in last moments, absorbed part ambient energy and stored it in flesh.
— Interesting.
No time analyze that now. But I promised revisit later.
Tanning should have been ordeal.
It wasn't three days hard struggle against recalcitrant skin, but three days of precision.
My quartz knife cut flesh residues like jelly, sliding between fibers effortlessly, leaving behind almost smooth surface. No tears. No snags. Just clean cut. Blade knew where to go. Affinity with organic material manifested here: edge followed tissue contours, avoiding tension zones, preserving skin integrity. I didn't even need press. Simple pressure enough.
— Almost too easy.
Ash, mixed with lukewarm water in rock hollow modeled expressly. Improvised bowl, smooth and waterproof thanks quick pass fingers on stone.
Material Affinity (Rock) made miracles: walls retained heat longer, ash particles distributed uniformly, no lumps.
When plunged skin in, absorbed mixture without needing knead hours.
Skill Leather Work accelerated process, but more than that: fingers felt when skin soaked enough, when to turn, when mixture pH began too acidic.
— There. Now.
I pulled it out, still dripping, spread on branch frame assembled previous day. Straight ash pieces, chosen for natural resistance, fibers already aligned in tension direction.
Glance Ether confirmed solidity before even touching.
Tensed skin over, adjusting edges surgical precision. No folds. No overly stretched zones. Just homogeneous tension. Hands had muscle memory hundreds tannings.
Drying was strangest part.
Normally, skin takes days dry without rotting hardening. Mine ready less twenty-four hours.
— Surely Ether.
I understood placing palm on.
Skin breathed.
Ether still circulated between leather fibers, invisible capillary network. Accelerated moisture evaporation without drying material, preserving flexibility. Passing fingers on surface, felt residual warmth.
— It's… alive?
No. Not alive.
Optimized.
Fourth day, when finally could sew, realized holding much more than simple coat.
Started cutting pieces with knife, again effortless. Blade followed lines traced mentally.
Wolf fur thick, almost too thick normal garment, but knew protect from cold better simple tanned skin. Superposed two layers strategic spots: shoulders, back, where wind bite most.
Sewing? Hare tendons, twisted treated with remaining ash mixture: technique known without learning.
— Double stitch here. No, not like that—diagonally, distribute tension.
— There, need flat knot. Not fisher knot. Flat knot.
My fingers moved almost alone.
Final result… convincing.
Coat enveloped shoulders perfectly. Heavy without cumbersome, hood deep enough hide face if needed. Sewing invisible unless looking closely. Leather welded itself.
And passing hand inside, felt something strange: diffuse warmth. Garment retained body temperature instead just blocking.
— Passive thermoregulation?
I hadn't made normal coat.
Now, crouched snow before these six trunks I would use build more solid house, could finally concentrate something other immediate survival against cold.
Coat protected me from wind.
Boots kept feet dry.
And pocket, remaining leather straps repair all if necessary.
Winter could come.