Sullei woke before the fire fully remembered how to die.
That was always how it felt—those first few seconds between sleep and awareness. The cold pressing in from the walls. The silence too heavy to be empty. The faint smell of ash, cured hide, and old metal.
Then the weight of another person returned to his awareness like a dropped stone.
Still here.
The witch.
Sullei opened his eyes slowly.
Amina was sitting upright on the bed, knees pulled to her chest, wrapped tightly in his thick fur blanket. For a moment, she looked smaller than she had any right to look—less like the impossible, floating-blade terror from yesterday and more like something breakable.
She pressed her fingers into her temples, eyes half-closed.
Pain.
Sullei recognized that expression.
Not physical injury.
Something else.
He returned to his carving without moving his gaze away from her for too long. The knife resumed its slow shaving of wood. Controlled. Familiar. Safe.
Amina didn't look at him at first.
Her voice came quietly, like it had to travel a long distance just to reach the room.
"I'm sorry."
Sullei paused.
The apology hung awkwardly in the air, as if it didn't quite belong in this place of stone and firelight.
He nodded once.
Simple.
Accepted.
Amina exhaled, but the relief didn't fully reach her face.
"I'm sorry for being rude," she continued. "For… everything. Yesterday. I wasn't thinking clearly. I just—"
Her voice caught slightly.
"I didn't know what you were."
Sullei tilted his head a fraction.
What he was?
A person.
Like her.
Probably.
He made a soft, uncertain chirp in his throat—an involuntary sound, something between confusion and acknowledgement. He made such an absurd sound with a poker face.
Amina blinked at it.
"…Did you just chirp at me?"
Sullei stopped.
He had no answer for that.
So he nodded again, slower this time, like that explained anything.
Amina let out a small breath that might have been a laugh if it wasn't so tired.
Then she added more carefully, "And I'm sorry about your… wolf-dog thing."
At the mention of Doomsday, the creature lifted her head from the fire's edge, one eye opening like she had been personally offended for hours.
Sullei immediately glanced at her.
Doomsday stared back.
No forgiveness granted.
Sullei returned to carving with exaggerated seriousness.
Amina watched this exchange and, despite everything, the corners of her mouth twitched.
There was something absurdly domestic about it.
Fire.
Wood shavings.
A silent giant man.
A judgmental wolf.
And her, wrapped in stolen warmth.
It shouldn't have felt safe.
But it did, in a confusing, fragile way that made her uneasy.
After a moment, Sullei stood and retrieved the whiteboard.
He wiped it carefully.
Then wrote.
The marker squeaked loudly in the quiet room.
He turned it toward her.
IT'S OK
Amina stared at it for a moment longer than necessary.
"Thank you," she said softly.
And for the first time, she meant it without hesitation.
Silence returned.
Not empty this time.
Just… shared.
Sullei resumed carving.
Amina shifted slightly on the bed, studying him without meaning to.
His back was broad, layered with dense muscle and old scars. Dreadlocks rested against his shoulders like heavy rope. Every movement he made looked practiced—not for comfort, but for survival efficiency.
Like everything about him had been designed by a world that wanted him dead.
After a while, she spoke again.
"I don't even know your name."
Sullei paused.
That seemed to confuse him more than any threat had.
He pointed at himself once.
Then grabbed the board.
SULLEI
He showed her.
Amina nodded slowly.
"Sullei."
She tested it like it was unfamiliar terrain.
Then, softer, "I'm Amina."
Sullei considered this.
Then nodded.
As if filing it somewhere important.
The silence that followed was different now.
Less hostile.
More uncertain.
Time passed in small sounds: fire popping, wood whispering under the blade, wind pressing against stone like something alive trying to get in.
Then—
A loud, sudden rumble broke everything.
Amina froze.
Sullei snapped his head toward her instantly.
Doomsday lifted her head too, alert.
The sound came again.
Her stomach.
Amina stared at it like it had betrayed her personally.
"…Ignore that," she muttered.
Sullei did not ignore it.
He stood immediately.
Amina watched him walk to a side chamber, his massive frame disappearing into shadow.
There was a long moment of rummaging.
Then the sound of something heavy being lifted.
Doomsday followed him like a silent escort.
When he returned, he carried a tray with deliberate care, as though balance itself mattered.
He set it down near the bed.
Amina blinked.
The smell hit her first.
Warm meat. Spices. Earthy roots. Something faintly smoky and rich.
Her mouth reacted before her brain did.
"Oh no," she whispered. "That smells majestic."
Sullei tilted his head.
This meant nothing to him.
He sat back down and watched her expectantly.
Amina hesitated.
Then reached for the food.
The first bite changed her expression immediately.
Warmth spread through her mouth—deep, spiced heat that made her eyes widen slightly. The meat was tender, almost melting. The roots were soft and sweet, grounding the sharpness of the seasoning.
For a moment, she forgot everything.
The blizzard.
The caverns.
The deaths.
Timi.
Her hand slowed halfway through another bite.
The name hit her like a sudden drop in temperature.
Timi had been laughing yesterday.
Teasing Amina about her eating habits.
"always eating rice with tooth picks."
She had rolled her eyes.
She had told her to shut up.
She had smiled like she always did.
Her teeth stopped moving.
The food stayed in her mouth suddenly too heavy to swallow.
Her throat tightened without warning.
Amina blinked once.
Then again.
The fire crackled.
Sullei was watching her, still and attentive.
Doomsday's ears shifted slightly.
Amina swallowed hard.
It didn't go down easily.
Her fingers tightened around the bowl.
She forced herself to chew again.
Slowly.
Mechanically.
But her eyes burned now.
Because she realized something terrible:
She had been fighting for survival so hard that she hadn't properly stopped to feel what she lost.
Not yet.
Not until warmth returned.
Her breath hitched faintly.
Sullei noticed instantly.
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening.
Amina quickly shook her head.
"I'm fine," she said too fast.
Too sharp.
A lie.
She took another bite anyway, as if punishing herself with it.
The warmth of the food clashed violently with the cold memory forming in her chest.
Timi laughing.
Timi falling behind her in the mines.
Timi saying he'd catch up.
Timi never catching up.
Her grip tightened.
Her nails dug into the bowl.
A tear slipped out without permission.
She wiped it immediately, furious at herself.
Sullei watched her carefully now.
Not understanding.
But recognizing distress.
He slowly reached for the whiteboard.
Wrote something.
Turned it toward her.
Amina barely saw it through her blurred vision.
FOOD BAD?
She let out a shaky laugh at that.
It wasn't humor.
It was overload.
"No," she whispered. "It's not bad."
She hesitated.
Then added, quieter:
"It's just… I remembered something."
Sullei stared at her.
He did not ask what.
He seemed to understand—at least in the way animals understand storms coming before humans do.
Doomsday lowered her head slowly and rested it on the floor.
The room became gentler without changing at all.
Amina forced another bite.
This time she swallowed properly.
But it hurt.
Not the food.
The memory.
Sullei returned to carving, but his movements had slowed.
Occasionally, he glanced at her again.
As if making sure she was still there.
Still breathing.
Still not breaking.
After a while, Amina spoke again, voice steadier but quieter.
"Where I come from… people don't really eat like this."
Sullei paused and listened.
She continued, staring into the bowl.
"We eat... lavish. The best of the best. But, Everything measured. Everything monitored."
She gave a faint, humorless smile.
"It's not a bad thing, but most of our food is lab grown."
Sullei frowned slightly at that.
He picked up a piece of wood and wrote again.
He turned it.
THAT IS SAD
Amina looked at it.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
A real one this time.
Soft.
Tired.
"Yeah," she admitted. "It kind of is."
The silence that followed didn't feel heavy anymore.
Just honest.
After they ate, Sullei cleaned up without speaking. His movements were precise, almost ritualistic. Doomsday followed him like a shadow, occasionally sniffing the empty plates as if suspicious the food might come back.
Amina watched him.
Then spoke quietly.
"Thank you."
Sullei paused mid-motion.
Looked at her.
She hesitated.
"For… all of this," she clarified.
A small nod.
Then, after a moment, he lifted the whiteboard again.
Wrote slowly.
This time the letters were slightly uneven.
He turned it.
Amina read it aloud.
"…YOU CAN STAY."
She blinked.
Looked at him.
He immediately looked away, as if the act of writing it had been too revealing.
Amina held the blanket tighter around herself.
The words settled somewhere deep.
Not comforting.
Not safe.
But real.
Sullei, realizing what he had just communicated, seemed mildly horrified at his own lack of control over language.
He erased it quickly and wrote something else.
Turned it.
UNTIL STORM GOES
Amina smiled faintly.
"Right," she said. "Of course. Practical reasons."
But her voice softened.
"…Still. Thank you."
Sullei nodded again.
Then, after a pause that felt like he was fighting himself, he added a small chirp.
Amina stared at him.
Then laughed quietly.
"That is the most confusing approval sound I've ever heard."
Doomsday made a sound that strongly implied agreement.
For the first time since she arrived, the room stayed quiet without tension in it.
Only warmth.
Only fire.
Only two survivors trying, in very different ways, not to feel alone.
And outside—
The blizzard kept screaming against the world that had already ended.