Day was just beginning to break, and a thin layer of frost had formed on the window frames like frosted glass, making the light from outside appear hazy.
Gwof had already opened his eyes. The powerful physique of a gray wolf and the magic flowing within him allowed him to sleep lightly yet with incredible efficiency; now, his eyes were clear, and his whole body felt stretched and limber, as if every pore were breathing freely after a good night's rest.
The fire in the fireplace was still flickering on its last legs, the firewood burned down to half-charred charcoal. The flames weakly licked at the embers, making faint crackling sounds that were much quieter than the roaring blaze of the night.
Most of the warmth in the room had dissipated, replaced by the characteristic chill of early morning. As it slipped under his collar, it made Gwof's wolf ears twitch slightly.
Outside the window, the snowfall had grown heavier again at some point.
Large flakes of goose-feather snow spiraled down slowly, like countless white butterflies dancing in the air.
The distant rooftops had long been covered in an increasingly thick layer, looking like a heavy spread of cream. The world was a vast expanse of white, and even the wind had lost its temper, turning gentle as it swept shallow tracks across the snow.
In the little cotton nest by the fireplace, Ugly Duckling was curled into a dusty gray ball. Its bald skin was a bit stiff from the morning chill, yet it was sleeping soundly with its head tucked under its wing, revealing only the back of its head which was stuck with a few bits of grass.
Occasionally, its claws would twitch, and a soft "guji" sound would escape its beak.
Gwof turned his head toward the bed. Leah was lying on her side, her small face buried in a coarse pillow, with several strands of golden hair spread across the pillowcase.
Her long eyelashes cast a faint shadow over her eyelids, trembling slightly with her breath. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a tiny smile, her face wearing a completely relaxed and adorable expression; she was likely dreaming of something sweet.
However, the quilt had been kicked off the bed at some point—half of it dragged on the floor, gathering dust, while the other half dangled precariously off the edge of the bed like a discarded tail.
Gwof watched helplessly. He had snatched the quilt back last night, but in the middle of the night, she had simply tossed it aside... "Honestly..."
He raised a hand to rub his forehead, his hat brim sliding down slightly with the movement, revealing a smile he couldn't hide in his eyes, tinged with indulgence.
He rose with movements as light as a feather, fearing he might disturb the deep sleep of the person on the bed. He bent down to pick up the quilt from the floor, shook off the dust, and covered Leah with it once more.
Just as he reached the outer hall, he heard the sound of Little Bottle yawning outside the door. The yawn was long enough to lift the roof. Then came the "creak-thud" of the woodshed's wooden door opening and closing; that fellow was likely awake too, rubbing his eyes as he crawled out.
In the hall, Farmers Wife had already risen and was busy by the stove, wearing a blue cloth apron.
The milk in the clay pot was steaming, giving off a sweet fragrance; rye bread was toasting on the iron plate, the scent of char mixing with the aroma of grain as it spread through the room, making one's stomach rumble with hunger.
When she saw Gwof enter, she quickly paused with the wooden spatula in her hand and greeted him with a smile: "Sir is awake? That's good. The porridge and bread will be ready in a moment to warm you up."
Gwof nodded and walked to the window, pushing it open just a crack.
The biting air rushed in with a "whoosh," carrying the unique crispness of snow. It scraped against his face like a handful of crushed ice, yet it made his mind feel even clearer.
The ridges of the distant fields were buried by snow, leaving only faint, flickering traces like wrinkles on the earth.
A few Sparrows landed on the bare branches, their little heads tilted as they chirped and pecked at the snow crystals on the twigs, occasionally fluttering their wings to change positions and sending a flurry of snow dust falling.
He exhaled a breath of white mist toward the window, watching the cloud dissipate rapidly in the cold air without leaving a trace.
The milk on the stove began to bubble. Farmers Wife quickly lifted the lid and stirred it with a wooden spoon, the milky fragrance growing even stronger.
Gwof turned around to look at this scene full of the warmth of daily life when he suddenly heard a soft hum from the inner room. It seemed Leah was about to wake up... Leah slowly roused from her light slumber, her long eyelashes still carrying a touch of post-sleep confusion, like a thin mist.
She instinctively reached out to her side, but her fingertips touched only coldness—the bed was empty; Gwof was not there.
"Gwof?"
She called out tentatively, her voice soft and sweet from just waking up, drifting through the quiet room.
The only response was the occasional "crackling" of the dying fire in the fireplace, as faint as someone whispering in her ear.
A sudden surge of panic gripped her heart, as if something had squeezed it tight.
Tears welled up without warning and flowed down the corners of her eyes, dripping onto the pillow and creating a small wet patch.
Not even stopping to put on shoes, she suddenly kicked off the quilt and stepped onto the cold floor with bare feet. A chill instantly rose from the soles of her feet, but it couldn't match the panic in her heart.
"Gwof! Where are you? Don't leave me..."
She stumbled outward, her skirt rustling against the hay on the floor.
Her crying carried a heavy nasal tone and a sense of being abandoned, like a kitten that couldn't find its owner.
Just as she rushed to the hall entrance, her tearful cry came to an abrupt halt.
There sat Gwof by the wooden table near the window, holding a coarse ceramic bowl with steam rising from the rim.
He had his head slightly lowered, slowly drinking the hot milk. Sunlight filtered through the window frame onto his profile, casting a long shadow from his hat brim, and he was completely unaware of the bit of milk staining the corner of his mouth.
Farmers Wife, who was adding wood to the stove nearby, heard the commotion and turned to see Leah in such a state—barefoot, hair messy, face streaked with tears, and eyes as red as a rabbit's. She quickly put down the firewood, wiped her hands on her apron, and hurried over to gently support her shoulders, comforting her softly: "Oh dear, don't cry, don't cry. Sir is right here; he hasn't left."
Leah's sob got stuck in her throat.
The panic that had filled her heart just moments ago suddenly collided with the leisurely scene before her. The paleness on her face instantly flushed into a deep red, and even her ears grew hot; one could almost see a bit of steam rising from her, as if she had been toasted by the hearth.
She pursed her lips, swallowing the remaining sobs. Her toes curled as she shrank back slightly behind Farmers Wife in embarrassment, her eyes stealing glances at Gwof with a mix of resentment and relief.
Only then did Gwof look up. Seeing her bare feet, he frowned slightly and set the milk bowl on the table. "What's wrong?"
Leah didn't speak, only twisting the hem of her clothes, the blush on her face deepening like a layer of rouge.
Farmers Wife smiled and patted Leah's back, her rough palms carrying the warmth of the stove fire, as she turned to Gwof to smooth things over.
"She's a girl, after all—thoughtful and sensitive."
"Look at this girl; she's likely grown close to you, which is why she was afraid you'd leave in a hurry."
"Come to think of it, you two look to be about the same age—it's the age for being clingy."
As she spoke, the smile lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled. She added a piece of wood to the hearth, the flames jumping with a "crack" and casting her flickering shadow against the wall.
"That's how children are. One moment they're crying, and the next, once they've seen their person, their face turns as red as a ripe cherry from shyness."
Behind Farmers Wife, Leah secretly tugged at her apron, the tips of her ears so red they looked ready to bleed.