Ariel grabbed the edge of the warped wooden door. She shoved it hard. A loud, grating creak echoed through the empty room, the rusted hinges protesting every inch of movement.

A wave of stale air hit her face. It was a thick, suffocating mix of mold, damp rot, and years of settled dust.

Ariel choked. She stumbled back, pressing her sleeve over her nose and mouth as a violent coughing fit seized her chest.

Elvin stepped forward. He moved in front of her, his tall frame blocking the worst of the dusty draft. He waved his hand in the air, clearing a path through the floating particles.

They stepped inside. The dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls revealed a disaster. Scattered stones, piles of dried weeds, and dirt covered the floor. And there, in the center of the ceiling, a massive hole gaped open. The freezing wind whistled through it, a constant, biting stream.

Ariel sighed internally. She forced down the panic, the despair. She was a survivor. She had survived worse in her past life. She could survive this.

She turned to Elvin. He was leaning against the doorframe, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths. She pointed to the corner where a flat slab of stone served as a bed.

"Sit," she said. Her tone was gentle, but it left no room for argument. "Rest."

Elvin blinked. Something flickered in his eyes-surprise, maybe. He wasn't used to being ordered to rest, especially not with that kind of quiet concern.

He obeyed. He walked over to the stone bed and sat down, his movements slow and deliberate. He settled back, his gaze fixed on Ariel, watching her every move.

Ariel rolled up her sleeves. Her arms were slender, marked with a network of old scratches and fresh bruises. She found a half-bald broom in the corner and began to sweep. The bristles scraped against the stone floor, pushing the debris into a pile.

A massive rock sat right in the middle of the room. Ariel pushed it with the broom. It didn't budge. She dropped the broom and pressed her hands against the cold surface, pushing with all her weight.

Nothing.

She gritted her teeth. She dug her fingers into the rough edges, her face turning red from the strain, and pushed again. Her arms trembled.

Elvin watched her stubborn, awkward struggle. His fingers tapped lightly against his knee. Once. Twice.

He stood up. He walked over until he stood right behind her.

"Let me try," he said softly.

Ariel looked up, worry creasing her brow. She opened her mouth to stop him, but he was already bending down.

Deep inside, Elvin tapped into a sliver of his suppressed power. A tiny thread of silver wolf energy surged through his veins. He gripped the rock.

He pretended to strain. He grunted, his face twisting into a mask of effort. The hundred-pound rock scraped across the floor and thudded against the wall.

The moment it was done, he threw out a hand to brace himself against the wall. He let out a series of harsh, ragged gasps, his shoulders heaving.

Ariel dropped the broom. She rushed over, grabbing his arm. His skin was ice cold under her fingers.

Her heart clenched. She guided him back to the stone bed, making him sit down. In her mind, she reevaluated him. He was stronger than he looked, possessing a surprising burst of power, but that single act had completely drained him. His body was incredibly fragile. Handle with Care.

She rummaged through the broken wooden cabinet in the corner. Nothing. Just dust and splinters. Finally, in the very back, she found a shriveled, mutated potato root.

She took it outside. Using a chipped stone knife, she painstakingly scraped away the blackened, moldy skin. It took her ten minutes just to get it clean enough to eat.

Back inside, she snapped the root in half. The larger piece, maybe a third bigger, she handed to Elvin.

Elvin stared at the tough, fibrous root in his hand. A complex emotion flickered in the depths of his eyes.

Ariel chewed her small piece. It tasted like dirt and cardboard. It was dry and hard to swallow. But she forced it down, her eyes fixed on the river outside the door.

Her mind was already working. Calculating the water flow. The depth. The terrain. Remembering the fishing techniques from the old world.

She swallowed the last bitter bite. She turned to Elvin, her eyes bright with a fierce determination.

"Tomorrow," she announced, "we eat meat."

The first ray of morning light cut through the hole in the roof, hitting Ariel directly in the face.

She groaned, rolling over. Every bone in her body ached from sleeping on the solid stone slab. She felt like she had been beaten with sticks.

She glanced sideways. Elvin was still asleep, his breathing shallow but even. She moved quietly, slipping out from under the thin blanket and stepping outside.

Behind the shelter, a patch of mutated vines grew wild. Ariel selected a few of the thickest, most flexible ones. She snapped them off and carried them back.

She sat on the threshold, her hands moving fast. Her fingers tied knots, twisted strands, and wove the vines together with practiced ease. It was a skill burned into her muscle memory from the old world.

Less than thirty minutes later, a simple fish basket sat in her lap. It had a narrow opening and a wide belly. Perfect.

The wooden door creaked. Elvin stepped out, rubbing his temples. He froze when he saw her pulling the final knot tight on the basket.

His eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of curiosity breaking through his usual dull, sickly facade. But he quickly masked it with a dry, hollow cough.

Ariel looked up. She grinned, holding the basket high.

"Come on," she said, waving him over. "Let's go to the river."

They walked down the rocky path. The camp was just waking up, the air still cool. They reached the riverbank at the edge of the camp. The water ran fast and dark.

Ariel found a deep pool where the current circled back on itself. She dropped the basket into the water, weighing it down with heavy stones.

She dug into the muddy bank, pulling out a few fat, squirming mutated earthworms. She crushed them and tossed the bait into the basket.

While they waited, Ariel scanned the riverbank. She picked up several thin, sharp-edged stones. She tested their weight and balance, then tucked them into her belt.

Half an hour passed. Ariel pointed at the water.

"Pull," she instructed.

Elvin grabbed the vine rope. Together, they hauled the heavy basket up.

It broke the surface. Water splashed everywhere. Inside, more than a dozen mutated fish thrashed wildly, their silver scales flashing in the sunlight.

Elvin stared. He looked genuinely stunned. These fish were notoriously hard to catch. Fast, slippery, and usually ignored by the camp.

Ariel smirked. She grabbed one of the sharp stones. In three swift moves, she gutted a fish, scraping out the innards and tossing them aside. She did it again. And again.

Then came the hard part. She laid a thick filet of white fish meat on a flat rock. She picked up another heavy stone and began to pound. Smash. Smash. Smash.

She beat the meat relentlessly. Slowly, the flaky flesh began to bind together, turning into a sticky paste. She spotted some wild ginger grass growing nearby. She ripped up a handful, squeezed the juice over the meat, and kept pounding to kill the fishy smell.

She built a small stove out of a few large rocks. She set their only dented iron pot on top, filled it with water from the river, and started a fire.

When the water boiled, Ariel grabbed a handful of the sticky fish paste. She squeezed her left hand into a fist, and using her thumb and index finger, she forced a perfect, round ball of meat out. She flicked it into the boiling water. Plop. Plop. Plop.

The white balls bobbed to the surface. A rich, savory aroma exploded into the air. It was incredible. Nothing like the burnt, gamey smell the camp was used to.

Elvin swallowed hard. His throat bobbed visibly. His eyes were locked onto the pot.

Ariel fished out a steaming ball with a stick. She blew on it twice and held it up to Elvin's lips.

"Eat."

He hesitated for a second, then opened his mouth. He bit down.

The texture was springy, bouncy. The flavor was rich, fresh, and deeply satisfying. It burst across his taste buds. It was a sensation he had never experienced in this wasteland.

His eyes flew wide open. He stared at Ariel, this dirty, skinny girl, like she had just performed a miracle.

Ariel saw his shock. Her smile widened.

"Let's make it official," she said. "Permanent partnership. Lifetime registration."

Elvin chewed slowly. He swallowed. He didn't even pause to think.

"Yes."

He nodded.

They poured the rest of the soup into a wooden bucket and hurried toward the center of the camp. They had to see the chieftain.

As they walked, Ariel looked down at the hard, yellow dirt under her feet. In her mind, she wasn't just seeing dirt. She was seeing blueprints. Foundations. Walls. An underground fortress.

Ariel knocked on the heavy door. It was made from the ribs of some giant mutated beast, thick and imposing.

"Enter," a voice called out. It was Hillard, the chieftain. He sounded tired, but the authority in his tone was unmistakable.

Ariel pushed the door open. She and Elvin stepped inside.

Hillard sat behind a massive desk made of bone. He was staring at a pile of withered, blackened wheat stalks, his brow furrowed in frustration. He looked up. When he saw Ariel, and then Elvin standing behind her, his face hardened. His eyes narrowed into slits.

Ariel stepped forward. She placed the wooden bowl of fish ball soup onto the bone desk. The bowl was chipped, the soup slightly murky, but the smell...

Hillard's nose twitched. The rich, savory scent cut through the stale air of the room.

He glared at the white balls floating in the broth. "What is this?" he demanded. "Some kind of trick?"

"It's food," Ariel said calmly. "Made from the bony, tasteless mutated fish in the river. The ones nobody wants to eat."

Hillard grunted. He picked up a carved bone spoon. He scooped up a single ball, eyeing it suspiciously, and put it in his mouth.

He chewed once. Twice.

He slammed his hands on the desk and stood up so fast his chair shot backward, scraping against the stone floor with a screech. His eyes were wide with shock.

Ariel didn't give him a second to recover.

"I want to register a permanent partnership with him," she said, pointing to Elvin.

Hillard's excitement faded, replaced by a grim, paternalistic concern. He looked from the miraculous soup to Ariel, then to the pale man behind her. His face darkened into stern disapproval. He pointed a thick finger at Elvin's pale, sweaty face.

"Absolutely not," Hillard barked. "He's poisoned. He's a dead man walking. He'll drag you down. He can't hunt. He can't protect you. He's useless."

Elvin stood silently. His gaze dropped to the floor, his expression unreadable.

Ariel reached out. She grabbed Elvin's cold, limp hand. She squeezed it tight.

"I don't need a hunter," Ariel said, her voice steady and firm. "I need someone smart. Someone who listens. Someone who won't raise a hand to me."

She looked Hillard dead in the eye. "I'm weak. I need a partner who will obey me. Completely."

Hillard stared at her. He looked at the stubborn set of her jaw, then down at the bowl of soup that still smelled like a dream. He let out a heavy sigh, the fight draining out of him.

He yanked open a drawer. He pulled out a small, rectangular metal tag. He tossed it across the desk. It clattered in front of Elvin.

"Take it. Don't come crying to me when he drops dead."

Elvin picked up the tag. It was the official badge of a camp member.

Ariel didn't waste a second. "I have another request."

Hillard raised an eyebrow.

"I want that piece of wasteland behind our shelter," she said, pointing in the general direction. "The one nobody uses."

Hillard waved a hand dismissively. He thought she just wanted to plant a few weeds. "Fine. Take it." He grabbed a charcoal stick and circled the area on the map.

They walked out into the sunlight. Ariel's face was lit with a fierce, hungry ambition.

She dragged Elvin back to their shelter at a brisk pace. Once there, she dropped to her knees in the dirt outside the door. She picked up a stick and drew a massive square in the dust.

She pointed to the lines. "This," she told Elvin, "is going to be our new home. An underground fortress. Built like the courtyards of the old world."

She explained the concept. How the earth would insulate them from the freezing winds. How the deep walls would keep out the mutated beasts. How it would be safe. Warm. Permanent.

Elvin listened. He didn't laugh. He didn't call her crazy. His eyes actually lit up with a strange, intense focus.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked quietly.

Ariel felt a rush of gratitude. She pointed toward the scrap heap at the edge of the camp.

"Go find old vines. Strong wood. Anything we can use."

Elvin turned and walked away. His steps were slow, but there was a solid, unyielding determination in his posture.

Ariel watched him go. Then she crouched down, her fingers tracing the lines in the dirt, calculating the volume of earth they needed to move, the tools they needed to make, and the time they had left before the cold season hit.