The Storm Wolf: Gathering Clouds - chapter 6 Priestess - 6.5
Imported from SF2 with no description.
The structure of the tower was both complex and mysterious. Its intricacies were so bewildering that few bothered to investigate the principles or logic behind its supernatural phenomena.
Perhaps it was seen as a waste of time. Yet, occasionally, failing to simply accept things as they were meant missing out on some truly fascinating experiences—like this perpetually burning campfire.
" It should be just right now." I leaned in close, inspecting the marshmallow coated with fine melanoidin, checking its expansion carefully before taking a sniff.
That Snow shrugged, as usual offering no constructive input. He glanced at his own stick, its marshmallow charred black, and then promptly devoured it whole—flames still dancing atop the surface.
"Perfect." Satisfied, I gave my roasted creation a mental score, skewered another marshmallow with Grey Snow, and began roasting it over the fire.
That Snow seemed equally pleased with his handiwork. After finishing his, he dug through his pack, tossed me an aluminum can, and cracked open one for himself.
"What’s this?" I cautiously sipped the drink, the bitter tang immediately raising alarms. "Rationalism above, is this beer?" Judging from the smug look that Snow shot me, I guessed correctly. "What are you thinking? This is too dangerous!"
The white wolf rolled his eyes dramatically, faked a yawn, and patted the longsword resting beside him.
"Whatever you said." I grumbled, setting Grey Snow down and crossing my arms in defiance.
That Snow let out a low nasal sound that I assumed was laughter, then, with lightning speed, lobbed a marshmallow at me, hitting my nose.
"Very mature." Before it hit the ground, I caught it mid-air using my will and, after a moment's hesitation, added it to Grey Snow for roasting.
Seeing my refusal to touch the beer, that Snow reclaimed the can and drained it himself, mocking me with a playful tongue flick. After setting the empty can aside with a loud belch, his marshmallow was perfectly roasted.
The white wolf stared at the fluffy cylinder floating before him, cocked his head, and folded one ear down.
"I promise, this won’t suppress our psychic link or increase our chances of dying in this tower," I grinned, taking a bite of my own marshmallow. That Snow responded with a toothy, menacing grin before swallowing his whole. "Not bad, right?" I asked while cleaning Grey Snow.
He simply shrugged and gave an indifferent "mm-hmm."
"I’ll take the first watch," I said, sheathing Grey Snow.
Even in this peculiar safe zone, the lack of cover made it hard to fully relax, so we kept a watch schedule.
That Snow voiced no objection. With an exaggerated yawn, he shifted position, resting his head on his pack and closing his eyes. His hand, however, stayed on the hilt of his sword, like a pup clutching a security blanket.
I rested my chin on my knees, watching him silently through the flickering flames.
After learning the general circumstances surrounding my parents, I hadn’t spent much time reflecting on it. Whether as a defense mechanism or something more complicated, I didn’t care to figure out.
But it did make me reconsider the meaning of "truth."
Was knowing "the truth" really that important? Nothing seemed to have changed because of it. If it didn’t matter to me, would it to others? If our lives were woven from countless lies into an absurd play, would the faint slivers of truth—fragile as threads in the wind—be the anchor keeping reality intact, or merely a fool’s mirage beckoning us toward an endless abyss?
I sighed involuntarily, pulling out my terminal and activating the camera function.
Whether or not I decided to reveal my identity, knowing who that Snow truly was couldn’t hurt, right? If anything, it might help me make up my mind.
It wasn’t a matter of trust, just...
I glanced at my shadow, cast and swaying by the campfire, then shifted my gaze to that Snow.
I simply didn’t want to lose even this.
Without a sound, I snapped a photo of him.
After putting the terminal away, I rested my chin on my knees again, extending my hands toward the fire to drive away the inexplicable coldness lingering in my palms.
The perpetually burning wood crackled and popped, sending sparks flying—defying explanation as always.
Perhaps, in many cases, things really were just that simple.