Winter had arrived in the blink of an eye. The kids were bundled in torn, dirt-stained rags, makeshift armor against a season that never came gently.
The wind had teeth now, sharper than any knife the gangs carried and far more consistent in its cruelty.
It slipped through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, whistled down alleys like it was humming a mournful tune, and bit at exposed skin with gleeful malice.
No one prepared for winter in Vel'Tharn. You just endured it. Or you didn't.
Thorn stood by the smoldering remains of a fire that had been generous enough to last through the night.
He held his hands over the embers, pretending the fading warmth still counted for something. It didn't. But illusions, as he'd come to understand, were sometimes more valuable than truths. Truths got you killed. Illusions got you through the week.
Elias sat cross-legged on the warehouse floor, his breath visible in the frigid air, the locket clutched tightly in his gloved hand. His golden hair was tucked under a ragged scarf, and his blue eyes, usually bright with that infuriating hope, were dulled by the cold.
He glanced at Thorn, who was still hovering over the embers like a moth too stubborn to admit the flame was gone.
"You're gonna burn your hands if you keep that up," Elias said, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his face.
Thorn didn't look up. "Already numb. Might as well try to feel something."
Mira, curled up nearby with a threadbare blanket draped over her shoulders, snorted without opening her eyes. "Poetic. You should write that down, Thorn. Might earn us a copper from some passing bard."
"Only if they're deaf," Jace muttered from his spot against the wall, where he was carving a stick with a dull knife, the shavings falling like snow onto the cracked floor.
Lutz, bundled in every spare rag they could find, was asleep, his small form tucked against Mira's side.
His soft snores were the only sound competing with the wind's relentless howl outside.
Thorn finally stepped back from the embers, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them.
"We need more wood. And food. Again."
Elias tucked the locket back into his pocket. "There's a merchant caravan passing through tomorrow. Heard it from one of the dock rats. They're carrying grain, maybe some dried meat."
Thorn raised an eyebrow, his red eyes glinting in the dim light. "Dock rats? You're trusting those liars now?"
"They're not all liars," Elias said, though his tone lacked conviction. "Besides, it's a lead. Better than sitting here freezing our asses off."
Mira opened one eye, her sharp gaze cutting through the gloom. "A caravan means guards. Guards mean weapons. Weapons mean we're not just stealing bread this time, we're risking our necks."
"Necks are already at risk," Thorn said flatly. "We're down to one fish and a crust so stale Lutz nearly chipped a tooth on it. We don't pull something off soon, we're not making it to spring."
Jace's knife paused mid-carve. "He's right. Starvation's a slower death than a guard's blade. I'll take the blade."
Elias frowned, his fingers twitching like he wanted to argue but couldn't find the words. Instead, he looked at Lutz, still sleeping, blissfully unaware of the conversation.
"We can't keep doing this forever," he said quietly. "Stealing, running, hiding. There's got to be something else."
Thorn's laugh was sharp, cutting through the cold like a whip. "There it is. The hero speech again. Tell me, Elias, you planning to awaken as a knight in shining armor by morning? March us all to a castle with a full larder and a roaring fire?"
Elias's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying we need a plan. A real one. Not just… surviving day to day."
Mira sat up now, her blanket slipping to the floor. "He's not wrong," she said, surprising everyone. Her voice was steady, calculated. "We're good at surviving. Better than most. But winter's here, and it's only going to get worse. We need something bigger than a loaf of bread."
Jace set his knife down, his eyes narrowing. "Like what? You got a map to a treasure hoard I don't know about?"
Mira smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Not yet. But Elias is right about the caravan. It's a risk, but it's also an opportunity. Merchants don't just carry food—they carry coin. Supplies. Maybe even information."
Thorn crossed his arms, his expression skeptical but intrigued. "Information? You're starting to sound like him," he said, jerking his head toward Elias.
Mira shrugged. "Call it what you want. But if there's a chance to get something more than a meal—something that could get us out of this shithole for good—I say we take it."
The warehouse fell quiet, the weight of her words settling over them. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if listening. Lutz stirred in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, and Mira gently adjusted the rags covering him.
Elias leaned forward, his voice low but firm. "If we do this, we do it smart. No rushing in like last time. We scout the caravan first. Figure out how many guards, what they're carrying, where they're weakest."
Thorn tilted his head, studying Elias like he was seeing him for the first time. "Look at you, making plans. Careful, I might start thinking you're useful."
Elias rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a faint grin. "Don't get used to it."
Jace picked up his knife again, resuming his carving. "Scouting's fine, but we'll need a distraction. Something better than Elias begging for scraps."
"I wasn't begging," Elias snapped, then caught himself, lowering his voice. "But yeah. A distraction. Something big enough to pull the guards away."
Mira's eyes gleamed with a dangerous spark. "I might have an idea for that. But it'll take all of us. And it's not going to be clean."
Thorn smirked, his red eyes catching the last flickers of the dying fire. "Clean's overrated. Let's hear it."