The night wind howled like a starving direwolf through the Frostmoss Tundra, gnawing at the wooden frames of hide tents. Xu Qing huddled in a corner littered with reindeer bones, his nails digging into calloused palms - not from cold, but to suppress the stinging in his fingertips. Three days earlier in the darkfire stone mines, he'd discovered his nails could slice through frozen oxhide, now glowing faint blue in the shadows.
"Whitefang! West watchtower needs eyes!" Ironclaw's roar tore through the tent flap, snowflakes glinting on his wolfbone amulet like spectral teeth.
Xu Qing tucked his fingers into fur-lined sleeves, pupils shrinking to crescent slits. "Brother Ironclaw, tonight's my logistics shift-" A boot slammed into his kidney before he finished. "Logistics? You can't even carry darkfire ore! Go count stars in the watchtower!"
His boots crunched through knee-deep snow like scattered bones. Xu Qing exaggerated each step's "crunch" - a Siberian snow-walking technique from his past life, meant to announce position while masking true footsteps. Tonight, it would reinforce his image as a clumsy coward.
The watchtower's five frost-blackened pines creaked under Elder Frosthorn's weight. The old chieftain peered through an ice-lens telescope as Xu Qing clambered up, deliberately banging knees against wood. "E-Elder... the wolf-howls draw near..."
"Third howl marks their crossing of Icecleft Chasm." Frosthorn's voice crackled like frozen sinew. "Twenty flint arrows. No more."
Xu Qing's breath fogged the ice lens. Modern tactics surfaced: Wolf Clan wargalops moved at two paces per second. Eight-meter chasm. Seventeen seconds for vanguard to reach edge. His fingers brushed darkfire shards hidden in his belt - twelve thumb-sized pieces sifted from three months' mine waste.
A leaden howl crashed from the northwest. Xu Qing suddenly shrieked, pointing downward: "Bone-splinter javelins!" Frosthorn scowled. "What javelins? You've never seen-"
The second howl erupted. Xu Qing "slipped," stuffing three darkfire shards into a hide pouch lashed with reindeer tendon. As Frosthorn grabbed his collar, the youth trembled, "Elder! I dropped darkfire ore!"
The third howl split moonlight. Thirty wargalops surged up the chasm's icy slope, their leader's bone spear glinting. Xu Qing gasped: "Fire! The darkfire burns!"
Frosthorn's eyes widened - ghostly blue flames snaked beneath the snow. Xu Qing had calculated the southeast wind and Wolf Clan's fish-oil treated armor. "Shoot the shoulder guards!" His terrified wail held poisoned precision. Twenty arrows flew. Three struck the wolf-leader's pauldrons. Fish oil ignited with a *whump*, blue flames licking the warrior's throat.
Chaos erupted. Wargalops shattered thin ice, plunging into dark rivers. Xu Qing palmed his hidden weapon - bear-tendon slingshots loaded with darkfire powder. "Aim ice walls!" His "panic throw" struck glacial stone. Blue sparks ignited humidity in snow. *BOOM.* Twenty tons of ice and snow buried the remaining wargalops.
Frosthorn's bone staff trembled. Not from cold, but the blue phosphorescence on Xu Qing's fingertips - the mark of pure darkfire exposure. This "third-rank coward" now knelt surveying the battlefield with glacial calm, like an ice bear disguised as fieldmouse.
"E-Elder, forgive me..." Xu Qing clutched Frosthorn's leggings, tears freezing on cheeks. His whisper cut through the act: "Wolfleader's spear carries frost adder venom. Cool wounds with snowmelt before midnight."
The chieftain stiffened. Only Bear Clan shamans knew that antidote. As Xu Qing trembled, Frosthorn noted the white fur thickening on his ears - a frost adaptation requiring decades of survival.
Retreating Wolf warriors froze when Xu Qing held his last darkfire shard to moonlight. Refractions formed the Frostwolf Totem's eye. The invaders kowtowed, fleeing into blizzards.
"Why did they retreat?" Frosthorn demanded.
Xu Qing cowered. "Perhaps... the Ice God's wrath? See how the ore mimics Wolf God's eye..." His blood dripped on darkfire stone, revealing fingerprint-like patterns. Frosthorn remembered identical marks on the metal wreckage he'd found thirty winters past.
At the victory feast, Xu Qing gnawed bones in shadows. Drunken Ironclaw kicked him: "Little mouse plays bear today!"
The youth curled tighter, grease staining his jerkin. "Brother jests, I nearly pissed-" He froze. Firelight cast his shadow - human hands with bear claws.
In Frosthorn's tent, the elder studied a metal fragment with human fingerprints. Outside, Xu Qing fingered darkfire crystals in his bracer, recalling Old Knife's smile before the crash. When Wolf Clan returned with sharper spears, the human soul in this bear-body would bare its fangs.