I didn’t mean to sleep so long.

  The den was warm—warmer than I had any right to expect. The air smelled like soil and fur, and the soft-packed earth curved snugly around me. I hadn’t meant to dig so deep, or to stay. I’d just… followed something. A pull.

  Movement stirred behind me.

  I twisted slightly, hearing the soft shuffle of claws against dirt. Kit was there, curled into the opposite wall of the den. His tail twitched as he blinked awake, his eyes already watching me in the dim light.

  “You too?” I murmured.

  He nodded once. “Didn’t know why. Just… needed to dig.”

  I hadn’t either. No warning. No thought. Just that growing itch under my skin—an urgency, a pressure to get underground like the shelter we built together wasn't safe.

  We surfaced slowly, pushing through the tunnel and into the shelter. The cold hit like a slap.

  Snow coated everything—the ground, the tarp above us, the brittle trees outside. The river nearby was half-frozen, chunks of ice cracking in the current. Wind whistled faintly through the seams of the structure.

  Inside, the others were huddled tightly near the fire.

  Sam sat with her feathers puffed up into a soft halo of white, her wings stretched around both herself and Nova. There was something mesmerizing about it—how delicate they looked, how her feathers fluffed out to trap heat. She looked like something out of a winter dream, glowing against the firelight.

  Cal crouched behind them, his thick otter tail draped protectively over both girls. He looked exhausted, blinking blearily as he poked at the fire with a charred stick.

  I stepped closer, my voice low. “Hey…”

  Sam’s head snapped up. Her eyes locked on mine, wide and relieved. “Leo? Kit?”

  “We’re okay,” I said. “We were underground. Dug a den.”

  Kit emerged behind me, brushing dirt from his arms. “Didn’t even think about it. Just… felt like we had to.”

  That’s when I really looked at Nova.

  Her skin was blotched with faint white patches and swelling around her neck and fingers. Her lips had a bluish tint. She was awake, but clearly dazed.

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  I frowned, kneeling beside her. “Nova… what’s wrong?”

  She blinked at me slowly, her voice thin but calm. “Cold shock. Minor. Would’ve been lethal if I were fully axolotl. With human DNA in the mix, it’s just incredibly uncomfortable.” She managed a small, breathless smile. “And kind of painful.”

  Nova stirred weakly, and Cal gave a hoarse laugh, breath misting in the cold air. “Lucky. Built-in winter alarms. Meanwhile, we almost turned into popsicles.”

  Sam let out a soft breath, leaning into Nova as she tucked her wings more snugly around them both. “We’re just glad you’re okay. Next time, leave a note before disappearing.”

  I gave her a sheepish look. “Didn’t really know I was going anywhere.”

  “We can dig it out wider,” Kit offered. “It’s warm. Safer than up here.”

  Sam nodded, her feathers shifting again as she looked toward the tunnel. “Then we’re moving in.”

  Outside, the storm was still whispering through the trees, more snow drifting down like ash. But inside the shelter, under wing and tail, with dirt beneath our feet and firelight dancing across the walls, the cold felt just a little farther away as we began heading down the tunnel.

  “How is this tunnel so long?” Cal groaned. “Feels like we’ve been walking for miles.”

  “I’m sure it’s not miles,” I said.

  “No, it is,” Nova replied, her voice calm but faintly strained. “Echo confirmed it. We’ve been moving at a downward angle for four and a half miles.”

  Kit paused, glancing back at me. “Huh.”

  I blinked. “That’s… deeper than I thought.”

  Kit brushed his claws along the tunnel wall, almost impressed. “Didn’t feel like digging that far. It just sort of… happened.”

  “It’s kind of wild,” I said, running my hand along the curved wall. “We really dug all this without even thinking about it. Just felt… right.”

  Behind us, Sam was quiet. When I turned, I saw her wings held tight against her body, shoulders tense.

  “You okay?” I asked gently.

  She nodded, but her voice came out thin. “Just… not used to closed spaces.”

  Cal glanced at her, then the narrow walls. “Yeah, this isn’t exactly luxury. I keep expecting the ceiling to tap me on the head.”

  Nova didn’t say anything, but she stayed close to the center of the group, her arms wrapped lightly around herself.

  Kit kept moving forward. “It opens up soon,” he said, more to Sam than anyone. “Promise.”

  I followed him, the tunnel beginning to widen, the air warming as we moved deeper underground—into something made not with panic, but with purpose.

  We entered the main chamber with a collective sigh. It was big enough for all of us to sit comfortably, but the ceiling was too low for standing. I crouched and started widening the space, carving back the walls and raising the ceiling a little more—mostly for Sam, who still looked tense in the tight quarters.

  Next, I hollowed out small rooms branching off from the main chamber, one for each of us. I added little nooks into the walls where we could lay our bedding just above the dirt floor—raised enough to feel a little more like home.

  By the time I finished, the others were deep in conversation.

  “—I mean it’s way too dark!! We can’t see anything down here, Kit!” Sam’s voice echoed with a hint of frustration.

  “I can see just fine! It’s not that dark,” Kit shot back.

  “That’s because you have ground squirrel DNA, idiot,” Nova replied, deadpan. “You’re made for burrows. But the rest of us? We’re not night predators or diggers—except for you and Leo. We need some kind of light down here.”

  “Maybe we could build a fire here in the main chamber,” I offered. “I’ll dig a vent tunnel to let the smoke out.”

  Without waiting, I started tunneling. It took time, but eventually I broke through to the surface. I weaved together a cage of branches to cover the exit—something that would let smoke out but keep animals from crawling in.

  By the time I climbed back down, the others had already gathered twigs and bark for kindling. I knelt beside the pile, flexing my fingers until faint embers flickered at the tips of my claws. A quick spark, a practiced flick—and the fire caught.

  Flames crackled softly, casting a golden glow across the dirt walls and warming the tight air.

  Sam slowly exhaled, wings tucked tight to her back as she edged closer to the fire. The tension in her shoulders began to ease, her eyes flickering in the light.

  “This is better,” she admitted, almost sheepish. “I don’t like feeling trapped, but… this helps.”

  “You’re not trapped,” I said gently, settling beside her. “We built this. We can change it however we want.”

  Her gaze met mine for a moment, and she nodded. “Still don’t love it… but I’ll survive.”

  Nova was already curled into her nook, her skin a little less pale now in the heat. Cal stretched out near the fire with a groan, arms behind his head and his tail curled loosely around him.

  “This place is weirdly cozy,” he mumbled. “Like a dirt blanket for the soul.”

  “You’re delirious from cold,” Nova muttered, but didn’t sound like she disagreed.