The first light of dawn spilled across the stone floor of the cave, catching on the glimmer of silver-white scales.
Evan squinted, groaning as the bright reflection hit his eyes.
Silas was already awake, crouched near the fire pit, stoking the dying embers. His emerald hair shimmered faintly in the morning light, and the tips of his silver-white scales glowed pale gold where the sun touched them. His emerald eyes—sharp and calm—flicked up briefly when Evan stirred.
"You're leaving ,this early?" Evan mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
Silas tied a pouch at his belt, his movements quiet and efficient. The long curve of his tail glided behind him, smooth and sinuous.
"The herds move at first light," he said, not looking up. "If I miss them now, they'll hide before noon."
Evan pushed himself up, rubbing his messy hair. "You could've woken me up."
"You looked peaceful," Silas replied, glancing over his shoulder. His lips curved slightly. "Females need warmth. You lose it too easily."
Evan blinked at him, half–amused. "That's your excuse for leaving me in bed?"
Silas leaned close enough that his breath brushed Evan's cheek.
"You were warm," he said simply, voice soft but deep. "I like you better that way."
Before Evan could come up with a comeback, Silas's hand came up to steady his jaw—just for a heartbeat—and he pressed a light kiss against Evan's temple.
"Keep the little ones close while I'm gone.I will return in the evening."
And then he was gone, the faint trail of scales and emerald hair disappearing through the cave mouth like a whisper.
---
Evan sighed, flopping back into the furs. "That snake… always leaving after throwing a line like that."
But breakfast wouldn't cook itself. The children were already up, loudly arguing over who got the bigger share of yesterday's fruit. Evan scolded them, made them eat.
After breakfast, Evan still grumpy decided they'd go gather supplies. He wanted to make sure they'd have enough food and herbs stored before the real cold began.
Evan stretched and yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, let's see… hey, System, you there?"
For a few seconds, there was silence. Then, a sleepy voice echoed in his head, sounding way too much like a grumpy cat woken from a nap.
"...Mmh, yes, Host. What is it now? Calling me this early—don't you people sleep?"
Evan rolled his eyes. "How can a system sleep,ok forhet it , give me the rest of the information about my reward. The 'ten herbal plant entries'? Ring a bell?"
"Oh. That." The system's voice yawned audibly. "Fine, fine. Transmitting the data. Don't say I never do anything for you."
A soft chime echoed in his mind.
In the next moment, faint golden outlines flickered in his vision—shapes of leaves, roots, and petals he didn't recognize before.
Each one shimmered with tiny notes of information beside it: Fevergrass — lowers heat. Bitterroot — antidote base. Moonleaf — soothes swelling.
Evan blinked, suddenly wide awake. "Whoa… that's actually very useful. I was thinking it will only give a brief information"
"Of course it is. I'm an advanced survival-assistance system, not your garden gnome," the system grumbled.
Evan snorted. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You're still lazy."
The voice made a dignified "hmph" noise before fading out.
Shaking his head, Evan smiled and got to his feet. "Alright, time to put this to use."
He turned toward the cubs, who were rolling around with the furs after breakfast "You two! Adventure time. We're going herb-hunting!"
"Again?" Milo groaned.
Leo's ears perked up. "Can we eat them this time?"
Evan sighed. "No. You identify them. You do not eat them."
"Got it!" both of them said in perfect unison—clearly not listening.
---
They spent the day searching the forest edges.
Evan crouched beside a patch of long, serrated leaves. "This one—'fevergrass'. You chew it for heat sickness."
The cubs nodded like it was a great secret, then ran off to look for more.
By noon, their baskets were filled with herbs and vegetables—taro roots, citrus fruits, wild greens, and even a plant with tubers similar to sweet potatoes.
"These should keep well for winter," Evan said, tying the bundles neatly.
"Mama, look! I found the bitter one!" Leo yelled, holding up a half–chewed leaf.
"You tasted it?!" Evan's eyes widened. "Leo! You're supposed to smell it, not eat it!"
"But you said to test it!"
"With your eyes, not your mouth!"
Milo laughed so hard he fell backward, clutching his stomach. Evan groaned. "I swear, you two will give me grey hair before the snow even starts. "
Leo giggled" But Mama your hair are already greyish sliver coloured"
Evan grabbed his baskets anyway and muttered under his breath, "I'm definitely going to need one of these soothing herbs for my headache today."
---
By evening, they returned home just as the sky began to darken. A heavy shadow appeared at the cave's edge—Silas, have few small and a large furry beast slung over his shoulder.
The children ran to him instantly.
"Papa Silas!" they cried, tugging at his tail.
His emerald eyes softened at the sight of them. "You two didn't give Mama too much trouble, did you?"
"Only a little," Evan said, smirking as he took a damp cloth to wipe the blood off Silas's arms. "You're covered again."
"It's the prey's," Silas said mildly. His voice was always calm, but there was an undercurrent of quiet confidence in it. "None of it's mine."
As he spoke, the firelight caught on the fine texture of his silver-white scales, making him look almost unreal—half divine, half dangerous. His movements were clean, efficient; he handled the massive carcass like it weighed nothing.
"Show-off," Evan muttered, watching him separate the meat from the bones in smooth, practiced motions.
Silas glanced up, a faint smile playing at his lips. "You like watching, though."
Evan nearly dropped the bundle in his hands. "W–what kind of thing is that to say in front of the kids?!"
"They're not listening," Silas said simply.
And indeed, the cubs were busy poking the beast's tail, pretending it was a snake.
---
As the meat roasted, Evan sprinkled in some chili and ginger, his new treasures from the forest. The smell filled the cave—warm, spicy, and comforting.
"It's a bit more spicy today," he warned as he handed everyone their share.
"Spicy?" Silas repeated, tasting it. His pupils dilated slightly, and he let out a low hum of satisfaction. "It burns… but it wakes the blood."
That's the point," Evan said, grinning. "Wakes you up from the inside out."
Silas licked his thumb slowly, savoring the residue. "Then I'll want more tomorrow."
Evan's stomach did a small, ridiculous flip. "I'll… think about it."
---
After dinner, the children fell asleep quickly, curled together like little pups in their newly arranged room.
The cave glowed softly from the embers, shadows dancing over the stone walls.
Evan sat near the fire, sorting through the herbs they had collected. He could still smell the chili on his fingers, faintly sharp.
Silas joined him quietly, his presence filling the space with steady warmth.
"You've done a lot today," he said, eyes tracing the neat piles of plants. "Your den looks alive now."
"Our den," Evan corrected, glancing up. "It's for all of us."
Silas's lips curved slightly. He moved closer, his long tail brushing against Evan's ankle—a gentle, teasing touch.
"You worry for everyone," he murmured. "But who worries for you?"
Evan swallowed. "I… don't know. Maybe you?"
Silas leaned in, his emerald eyes catching the firelight, soft but intense.
"Maybe," he said, and his voice dropped lower, more intimate.
Then he bent down and pressed a kiss to Evan's cheek—unhurried, warm, and sure.
Evan froze for a second, then exhaled slowly, feeling his skin heat under the touch.
"That's—unfair," he muttered weakly.
"You're blushing," Silas noted, amused.
"No, I'm not!"
"Then why is your face warm?"
Evan glared at him,walked to the bed flustered. "You talk too much when you're smug."
Silas just smiled, wrapping his tail loosely around Evan's waist in silent answer.
"Stay close tonight," he murmured. "It'll be colder before dawn."
And so Evan did.
He leaned into Silas's side, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. Outside, the wind howled through the valley. Inside, under the soft light of the fire and the gleam of silver scales, warmth bloomed—quiet, fragile, and real.
---