The Snow Wolf started toward the cave mouth.
Ji Yingran dropped her hands from her head and, in the same instant, planted a foot on the wolf’s tail.
A tug from behind halted the Snow Wolf. She shot her an ill-tempered glare, her eyes drifting slowly downward to the foot pinning her tail.
Ji Yingran yanked her foot away and bent to scoop up the tail instead, hugging it tightly to her chest.
“Where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave! I almost got eaten by that other wolf, and now you’re bailing too? What am I supposed to do then? No, absolutely not—you’re staying right here.”
The close call still left Ji Yingran shaken to her core. Just replaying it in her mind sent chills down her spine.
She was dead set against letting the wolf go. For the first time, the fear of solitude gripped her fiercely.
Before the Arctic Wolf’s attack, Ji Yingran hadn’t fully grasped the dangers, but this brush with death had sharpened her senses like never before.
Snow Mountain held perils beyond the biting cold: beasts roamed everywhere, lying in wait.
With the Snow Wolf by her side, she could fawn over their fluffy adorableness—like the lynx from last night.
Protected, she’d found it harmless, even pitiable, taking time to admire its sleek form.
But without the Snow Wolf? That lynx wouldn’t have been some cuddly big cat.
No—it would have turned feral and bloodthirsty, just like the Arctic Wolf today, eyeing her as nothing more than a meal.
No beast on Snow Mountain was cute. They were all deadly, ready to claim a human life without warning.
Only humans romanticized wild animals with words like “cute.” In nature’s brutal realm, survival meant bloody combat.
Ji Yingran clung fast to the wolf’s tail, refusing to release it.
“You can’t go. If you insist on heading out, take me with you. From now on, bring me hunting too. I’m done staying alone in this mountain cave.”
She held on like a petulant child. When her life hung in the balance, why not? If push came to shove, she could throw herself on the ground before the wolf, kicking and screaming.
Ji Yingran braced for a standoff, but to her surprise, the Snow Wolf relented without much fight. If the human wouldn’t allow it, she simply turned back and flopped onto the wool blanket.
Only when she showed no sign of leaving did Ji Yingran slowly loosen her grip on the tail. Even so, she stayed alert—if the wolf so much as twitched toward the entrance, she’d seize it again.
The Snow Wolf lay still on the blanket, staring fixedly at the cave mouth. She looked utterly serious, deep in thought.
She usually groomed herself thoroughly after returning from outside, but now she simply lay there, gaze unwavering on the entrance.
Ji Yingran couldn’t read her mind and had no choice but to watch her like a hawk, denying any chance of escape.
After a while, the wolf finally began to groom.
Only then did Ji Yingran’s taut nerves relax. Grooming meant no outings anytime soon.
Freed from sentry duty, she turned to her own mess. The cave was trashed—charred wood everywhere, begging for cleanup.
The fire was out, but the scorch marks and filth made the mountain cave unlivable without tidying.
Ji Yingran gathered the half-burnt logs first, then swept out the soot speck by speck, hustling back and forth.
“Hiss.” She rubbed her waist, wincing.
All that stooping had left her back throbbing.
Hands on hips, she eyed the grooming wolf. “You can snuff out fire and smoke in an instant. Can’t you just paw the air and restore the whole cave to pristine condition?”
The Snow Wolf’s ears flicked, but she kept her eyes averted.
Ji Yingran hurried over and squatted beside her. “You totally can, right? Look at me, slaving away—doesn’t that tug at your heartstrings even a little? Won’t you lend a paw? Cast a quick spell and make everything sparkle new?”
The Snow Wolf flicked her ears again but ignored her, grooming steadily on.
Ji Yingran’s eyes sparkled with cunning. “Or… you can’t, can you? No way you know advanced spells like that, huh?”
Classic reverse psychology.
It flopped spectacularly. She earned a dismissive paw-swat instead.
Ji Yingran sighed in defeat. Whatever—she’d handle it herself. Coaxing the wolf was pointless when the wolf clearly wasn’t helping.
Nearly an hour later, the cave gleamed tidy once more—or tidy as possible, with firewood stacks limiting perfection.
Warm and dry inside the mountain cave, yesterday’s haul had dried fully overnight, fueling that explosive blaze.
Chasing the Arctic Wolf and the subsequent fire had burned through more than half their supply.
What had seemed ample now teetered on empty. Forget days; this might not last one meal.
Ji Yingran heaved a deep sigh, then hunkered down to prep food.
The Snow Wolf had ventured out at dawn to hunt, returning with a familiar catch: another fragrant pig, just like before.
Evidently, last time’s eight dishes had won her over, prompting this early raid.
Ji Yingran turned the pig over, scrutinizing it. She highly doubted—scratch that, she was certain—the wolf had pilfered it from some human farm.
No wild pig looked this pristine.
But who cared? With spells in her arsenal, what was one stolen pig?
Hold on—that reasoning rang false. Magic didn’t license theft…
Perhaps next hunt, she should tag along. Not to scold her for rustling livestock, but to descend the mountain.
Trailing the wolf might lead straight down—no waiting fifteen days for rescue.
Ji Yingran nodded firmly, decision made: next hunt, she was going.
Her first attempts at fragrant pigs and rabbits had been fumbling disasters, splattering her with gore.
Twice in, practice perfected her. Now she skinned and gutted with brisk efficiency.
She hauled the prepped pig into the cave.
“Wolf, this one’s smaller than yesterday’s, but it’ll feed us fine. For pint-sized fragrant pigs like this, I’ve got an even tastier method. Up for it?”
The Snow Wolf quit grooming on the spot, eyes gleaming as she whipped her head around.
Ji Yingran brandished the pig. “Roast suckling pig—ever tried it? Bet not. I’ll make you one.”
The Snow Wolf nodded vigorously. Roast suckling pig sounds perfect! All good! Hurry—Wolf’s starving!
Ji Yingran had no intention of admitting the choice stemmed not from gourmet appeal, but bone-deep fatigue. The fright, nonstop cleanup—it had sapped her dry.
Yesterday’s eight-dish feast would have flattened her now. Roast suckling pig? Dead simple: fire up, roast, season, serve.
She rummaged the wood pile for their last fir branch, skewered the pig, rigged a stone rack, and set it roasting low and slow, flipping as needed.
Soon, fat sizzled on the skin, dripping into flames with a hiss.
Roast pork scent saturated the cave.
The Snow Wolf parked herself nearby, posture impeccable, black nose quivering madly. Without human restraint, she’d have pounced.
A burn would pale beside the risk of singed fur in this open blaze.
“Hang on—it’s not ready.”
“Woo!”
“Can’t eat till flavor peaks. Right now it’d be raw in the middle—gross.”
The Snow Wolf whined insistently but refrained from lunging, holding barely acceptable manners.
Half an hour on, Ji Yingran prodded the rind with a spoon. It shattered crisply—perfection.
She lifted the roast down, wiped a stone stool clean in advance, and plunked it there.
The Snow Wolf pawed the ground frantically, eyes blazing on the prize, muscles coiled.
Ji Yingran gave a wry smile. “Still scalding hot.”
The Snow Wolf huffed in irritation—whether at her or the cooling wait, who could say?
After waiting a little longer until the roast pig had cooled down enough, Ji Yingran finally relented and let her have some.
Snow Wolf shot forward like a bolt of lightning, her mouth diving toward the roast pig with a whoosh.
What a sight it was…
In the ensuing chaos, Ji Yingran hurriedly tore off a chunk of meat. She had no intention of eating food slathered in wolf saliva again.
Snow Wolf’s mouth was stuffed full, her cheeks bulging out as she shot an indignant glare at the human.
The Head Wolf distributes the food. The Head Wolf hasn’t even finished eating yet—how dare you start? What a lack of manners. Negative points.
Ji Yingran quietly retreated to the side. Whatever. This piece was hers now, and she had no interest in the leftover saliva-covered pig.
Snow Wolf glared at her a couple more times, then dove back into her own portion with barely contained impatience. She didn’t seem to mind that the human had taken the leg meat.
Snow Wolf chomped away noisily while Ji Yingran nibbled delicately at her food—their eating styles couldn’t have been more different.
One was excessively refined, the other excessively ravenous.
In just a few minutes, the entire roast suckling pig had been devoured by the wolf, leaving it picked clean.
Well, not entirely clean. One piece remained.
The one left for the human.
Ji Yingran waved the unfinished leg meat in her hand. “I won’t be able to finish this piece. You don’t need to leave any for me.”
Snow Wolf pouted. No wonder she’s so scrawny and useless. She eats like a bird every day—who else would be weak if not her?
Snow Wolf picked up the remaining piece in her mouth and spat it out at the human’s feet, her expression deadly serious.
Eat. You must finish it.
Ji Yingran blinked. “…”
There was no need to be quite so enthusiastic about it.
Bellies full, Snow Wolf let out a yawn. Sleepiness was setting in.
“Wolf, do you want to take a nap?”
Snow Wolf didn’t, but Ji Yingran did. And Ji Yingran wasn’t about to nap alone—she dragged the wolf along with her.
Snow Wolf reluctantly offered her paw as a pillow and her tail as a blanket.
Ji Yingran pretended not to notice the reluctance. She yawned widely. “I’m off to sleep. Good afternoon.”
She truly was exhausted from the day’s ordeal. The moment her eyes closed, she plunged into a deep slumber.
She had no idea how long she slept. When she awoke, her hand instinctively reached out to the side—and grasped only empty air.
Ji Yingran jolted fully awake in an instant.
Where was the wolf?
She scrambled to her feet in a panic. She couldn’t stay alone in the mountain cave. She couldn’t face that kind of danger by herself again.
She didn’t even bother with her clothes as she stumbled toward the entrance, calling out all the while.
“Wolf! Wolf, where did you go?”
At the same moment, a faint rustling sound came from outside.
Ji Yingran froze mid-step. She wasn’t entirely sure if the noise was coming from Snow Wolf.
She dreaded a repeat of that morning’s horror.
Taking a deep breath to quell the fear churning in her gut, she lightened her footsteps and crept forward. Cautiously, she poked her head out and peered toward the source of the sound.
When she finally saw what it was, the tension drained from her body.
Thank goodness. It was Snow Wolf, not some strange animal.
Ji Yingran let out a long sigh of relief. But the relief was short-lived—the wind at the cave mouth was fierce. She was barefoot, without her outer layers, and now that the panic had ebbed, the cold made her shiver uncontrollably.
She hurried back inside, slipped on her shoes and clothes, and only then ventured out again.
“Wolf, what are you doing?”
Ji Yingran stepped out of the mountain cave, her feet crunching through the soft snow with crisp, squeaking sounds.
Snow Wolf had her back turned to the human, emitting low whines now and then as she vigorously shook her head.
It looked like she was tearing into something.
