The hide tent's wooden door groaned under snow weight. Xu Qing studied the darkfire ore map spread on Frosthorn's stone table, fingertips absently tracing charcoal markings labeling "Ironblood Bear Outpost" - mere three miles from Whiteclaw Tribe's mining tunnels.
"Fifty overseers." Frosthorn's paw crushed the tunnel marking. "'Protecting ore from Wolf Clan' they claim, yet skimming thirty percent daily."
Xu Qing huddled by the firepit, grease dripping from half-raw venison chunk. "Elder, why not collapse the tunnels? Darkfire explosions shattered ice walls last wolf raid—"
"Collapse tunnels?" Frosthorn's roar scattered sparks. "Ironblood wears bone plate armor. We'd need thirty warriors per their one."
The youth's slit-pupil gaze swept topographic lines unseen. The Ironblood fort stood behind triple glacial ridges, supplied only through southwestern Meltwater Gulch. He pointed at "Frostmist Marsh." "What about... breeding frost venomspiders in the gully?"
Frosthorn stiffened. "Spiders? You fear mining caves yet know of venomspiders?"
"From caravan tales!" Xu Qing waved grease-smeared hands. "Their webs freeze armor. Ironblood troops would sink in swamps—" His whisper dropped. "Spiders track bear-scent. Reindeer dung masks ours."
The elder noted the southern tremor in Xu Qing's vowels - a merchant caravan accent impossible for Whiteclaw's orphan.
Fifty Ironblood warriors thawed boot-ice by bonfire. Their leader Sunderblade carved wolf meat when mining shrieks erupted: "Darkfire veins flooding!"
Xu Qing cowered in torchlight clutching ore, trembling. "L-lord! Water seeps through cracks, freezing the stones—"
Sunderblade kicked him aside. Blade tapped weeping walls. Ice creaked. A glacier chunk crashed, sealing inner tunnels. "Fools! If this mine—" Distant wolf howls interrupted. Warrior stumbled in: "Two hundred wolves southwest!"
Sunderblade charged out to find only scattered wolf fur. Northwest clangs revealed Whiteclaw warriors hauling ore. Returning, he found Xu Qing scraping ice walls - revealing half-buried human button.
Twenty young warriors circled as Xu Qing drew strange snow symbols: interlocked triangles around fire. "Triangular sentry formation. Three-man teams, fifty paces apart. Bone whistles signal—" His demonstration whistle drew Ironclaw's curse: "Who's fox-whistling?!"
Laughter erupted. Snowclaw pointed. "Whitefang! Your neck fur whitens like Elder's snowfox!"
Xu Qing yanked his scarf up, fingertips finding human-like stubble. Last night, his nails had out-carved bone tools.
"Silence!" His shriek froze laughter. "Tomorrow brings more Ironblood. Choose: lose ore or freeze?" He distributed reindeer hide strips. "Grease these for ice running - stolen from southern hunters!"
Snowclaw studied hide diagrams - pawprints with angle notations. He looked up to find Xu Qing shivering by fire, reduced to trembling mouse.
Frosthorn studied the "mine retrofit plans" - ventilation shafts and buttresses marked "reinforce with reindeer tendons." Most chilling: lower-left symbols matching the alien wreckage script.
"Where'd you learn drafting?" Frosthorn tapped the human glyphs. "These marks?"
Xu Qing fumbled darkfire shards. "C-caravan inventory marks! Just doodles—" He pointed at chimney sketches. "Vent darkfire smoke to prevent icicle collapses—"
Frosthorn seized his wrist. Blue vein patterns glowed like darkfire crystals. Nail beds showed translucent "war-claw" sheaths - impossible for an 18-year-old.
"Whitefang." Frosthorn's voice iced. "Your dying father gave me metal shards with these symbols. 'Sky-strangers' legacy.'" He produced cold-forged fragments. "What do you know?"
Xu Qing's pupils contracted - Siberian helicopter wreckage memories flashing. He knelt, fear-voice razor-clear. "As child... fell into crevasse... glowing metal box... same patterns..." Tears gleamed with resolve. "Feared being called monster..."
Frosthorn remembered thirty winters past - the burning "firebird" streaking through auroras. "Train our scouts tomorrow." His paw crushed Xu Qing's shoulder. "If sky-touched... I'll bind you to light-pillars myself."
Xu Qing lay on snowdrift overlooking Ironblood camp smoke. His reindeer-leather goggles (darkfire lens) tracked movements. Claws etched three lines: "First team: smoke signals behind ridges. Second: venomweb traps. Reindeer dung armor."
Snowclaw tugged his sleeve. "How know these? Surpasses elder hunters..."
Xu Qing cringed, goggles slipping. "Ice God's dream-warning—" Bone whistles interrupted. Ironblood warriors chased phantom wolves.
As venomwebs froze three Ironblood ankles, Xu Qing fingered the salvaged button - twin to his crash-uniform. Sunderblade's curses mingled with spider-hisses.
The youth watched his shadow shift - bear to human to formless void, dissolving into endless white.