Klev

  The cabin breathes around me, its old bones groaning in the cold. I sit hunched over my work, my fingers gliding over the carved figure in my p. The Great Sister—half-finished, her face still rough, her body waiting for life. I carve slower now, like stalling will make time pause.

  But time doesn’t care. It keeps moving. And soon, he’ll be gone.

  A shadow falls over the window. Heavy footsteps. The door swings open.

  I don’t look up. I already know who it is.

  “Klev.”

  His voice is firm, steady. No trace of the carefree tone I used to mock. I grit my teeth. “Don’t just stand there. If you're gonna come in, at least make yourself useful.”

  Vortex steps inside. He doesn’t say anything, just looks around—like he’s trying to memorize the pce.

  Like he’s already gone.

  I keep carving, ignoring him. “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?”

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  He stops talking. I don’t like it.

  “Guess I should be honored," I say, my voice light but forced. "The great hero Vortex decides to grace me with his presence before running off to be some military dog.”

  His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t rise to it.

  I set my carving knife down. “You really think you’re ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  A simple, unwavering answer.

  My stomach knots. I shake my head, scoffing. “You don’t belong there.”

  He exhales through his nose. “I don’t belong here.”

  I hate that he says it like a fact. Like I’m just supposed to accept it. I grip the Great Sister tighter, pressing my thumb against the ridges I carved into her spine.

  A sound breaks through our thoughts—a deep, low rustling from outside.

  I gnce at the window. “What was that?”

  Vortex turns, stepping closer to the door. I peek too, a shadow shifts between the trees. A slow, hulking form—thick fur matted with dirt, steam curling from its nostrils. The air suddenly smells like old hides.

  He touches my face pushing me back, “A bear,” he says, “Klev, why's there a goddamn Bear comin’ at your cabin?”

  I remove his hand from my face. “Oi! The hell do I know! Maybe it's after you.”

  A snort, closer this time. My pulse spikes.

  Vortex steps toward the door. I grab his wrist. “Hey—what are you doing?”

  He doesn’t answer. He just reaches for the handle, but before he can react, the door sms forward with a heavy THUD. Wood splinters. Then a growl.

  The bear is trying to get in.

  Vortex shoves his weight against the door, holding it shut. “Klev, move that crate over!”

  I freeze.

  “Klev!”

  “I—” My thoughts scatter. “What if it breaks through?”

  “Then I’ll deal with it,” he snaps. “Move the damn crate!”

  I don’t. My body locks up, my breath shallow. I hate this. I hate how sure he sounds. How he takes control without hesitation. Like he’s already better than me.

  The bear sms into the door again. Vortex grits his teeth. “Klev, I swear—”

  “Why do you even think you can do this?!” I spit out. “You can’t join the army. You’re not—”

  I don’t finish. But he knows.

  His breath stills. His grip tightens.

  Then, without a word, he lets go of the door.

  And opens it.

  The bear lurches forward—but Vortex doesn’t step back. Instead, he roars.

  Not a yell. Not a scream. A full, deep, roar.

  The bear doesn’t flinch. But it stops. Ears flick forward. A slow, testing exhale clouds the air between them. Then, just as it starts to lunge again—

  Vortex moves first. He pnts his feet, his breath steady. Not tense—controlled. I see it now, the way his muscles coil beneath his shirt, the way his stance shifts slightly. Like a fighter. Like he’s done this before.

  A blur of motion. His fist sms into the bear’s nose.

  A solid, bone-shaking crack. The bear recoils, dazed.

  I did not just see him do that.

  Vortex can't do that. He—

  The bear shakes its head, snorting, confused. Blood dribbles from its nose where Vortex struck. It shifts, its breath heavy, a low growl bubbling in its throat—but it doesn’t charge again.

  It watches him. The way he stands. The way he doesn’t back down.

  And then, as if deciding it’s not worth the fight, it huffs and turns and trudges away.

  Vortex watches until it disappears into the trees. Then he exhales, rolling his shoulder.

  I stand there, still frozen, my pulse hammering in my ears.

  He finally looks at me. “You done standin’ around?”

  My fists clench. My throat burns. I hate him. I hate how he makes me feel small.

  He steps past me, rubbing his knuckles. “I’m leavin’,” he says, like I didn’t already know.

  I swallow hard. “...Fine.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to say more. He just walks away, disappearing into the trees like the bear.

  I grip the Great Sister in my hands. The wood is solid. Unmoving. Unlike everything else.

  I press my thumb against the carved ridges and whisper, “You won’t leave me.”

  Not like him. Not like everyone else.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and for the first time in years, I wish she were real.

  Because then maybe I wouldn’t be alone.