Marked by the Four Beast Lords After Transmigration

The lower preparation terraces remained crowded long after the morning deliveries finished because Nia could not walk more than several steps without stopping to examine something else.

A basket of pale green roots became questions about storage life. Several bundles of drying herbs turned into a discussion about temperature exposure near open air. Three different clay containers somehow resulted in Nia crouching beside one of the larger jars with a focused expression while Kael stood nearby watching her inspect the lid for the third time.

"The seal's too tight," she murmured, lifting the lid slightly again before touching the inner wall carefully. "If moisture gets trapped inside, everything softens faster."

Kael looked down at the jar, then at her.

"You figured that out from staring at it?"

"Condensation marks."

She pointed toward the faint damp streaking along the inner stone.

He crouched beside her then, lowering one arm across his knee and examining the inside of the container where she indicated. The streaking was faint but visible once he knew to look for it. He probably would not have noticed it himself.

Nia adjusted the lid before setting it aside.

"The airflow's wrong too."

One of the nearby workers paused while carrying a basket of roots past them.

"What's wrong with it?"

"The container traps too much dampness once it's sealed for long periods," Nia said, straightening. "It ruins the food eventually."

The worker frowned and glanced back toward the storage jars with noticeably more caution before continuing on.

Kael watched the exchange and noted, not for the first time, that Nia still did not seem fully aware of how quickly people had started taking her observations seriously. She offered information the same way she always did—practically, without performance—and left whatever effect it had to find its own level.

The sharp scent of thicker smoke drifted across the terrace a few moments later, threading through the smells of roasting meat, damp stone, and cool mountain air.

Nia's attention shifted at once toward the far end of the lower terrace where a long stone structure sat partially recessed into the cliff wall beneath an overhanging ledge. Thin streams of smoke curled upward through narrow vents carved into the stone ceiling while several hunters worked near hanging racks deeper inside the shaded entrance.

She straightened fully, one hand still resting lightly against the side of the storage jar while she studied the structure from across the terrace.

"What's that?"

"A drying chamber," Kael answered.

He recognized the expression that settled across her face immediately afterward—the particular narrowing of attention that appeared right before she reorganized an entire process inside her head without warning.

He exhaled quietly.

Nia's gaze flicked toward him.

"What."

"You're planning already."

"I haven't even walked over there yet."

"That's never mattered before."

A nearby worker snorted softly into his basket without comment.

Nia turned and made her way toward the chamber anyway, the fur wrap brushing against her legs as she moved between the preparation tables.

Kael followed at an unhurried pace while heads turned as she crossed the terrace—conversations slowing, a few hunters pausing what they were doing to watch her path toward the smoke chamber with open curiosity.

At first the mountain had mostly treated Nia's endless questions as entertaining outsider behavior.

That was changing now.

People had started noticing that her explanations actually solved things.

The hunters near the smoke chamber straightened slightly when she approached, most of them glancing toward Kael first before looking back at her.

Nia stopped near the entrance and took in the chamber properly.

Smoke rolled steadily through the carved vents overhead while dark strips of meat hung from suspended wooden racks deeper inside. The surrounding stone retained lingering warmth from the low-burning fire pit below, though cooler mountain air drifted unevenly through the entrance in slow shifting currents.

Her gaze moved upward toward the vents, then down to the hanging racks, then to the fire pit itself.

"Huh."

Kael folded his arms beside her.

"That sound again."

"You've accidentally figured part of smoking out already," Nia said, not quite to him, still looking at the racks. "But the fire's too hot."

One of the hunters frowned.

"It's fire."

"Yes," Nia said, crouching beside the pit and extending one hand toward the heat carefully. "But direct concentrated heat works against slower preservation. The upper racks are drying faster than the lower ones right now because heat rises, and the sections closest to the fire are probably losing moisture unevenly."

The hunter opened his mouth, paused, and then looked back at the fire pit with the expression of someone confronting a familiar tool from an unexpected angle.

Several nearby workers had drifted closer during the exchange, though nobody interrupted. One woman still held a half-tied bundle of herbs and had simply stopped pretending to work.

When Nia straightened again, her attention caught on the number of people gathered nearby, and Kael watched the subtle shift move through her posture almost immediately—fingers tightening briefly against the edge of her wrap before smoothing the fabric, some careful alertness replacing the focused ease she'd worn while examining the chamber.

The mountain's attention still unsettled her sometimes.

Not because it felt dangerous, but because she hadn't yet fully adjusted to people stopping what they were doing to listen rather than simply overhearing her.

He thought for a moment she might pull back from the conversation entirely.

Then the older preparation woman from the upper terrace barked out a rough laugh from one of the nearby tables.

"Well? You going to explain properly or just stare at the fire all day?"

A few workers snorted.

The tension in the chamber eased almost immediately, and Nia exhaled slowly through her nose before looking back toward the fire pit rather than the crowd.

"Do you actually want the explanation?"

"Yes," came from at least four directions at once.

A hunter farther back added,

"Now I want to know how we've apparently been using fire incorrectly."

Nia hesitated again, though this time it felt less like overwhelm and more like the familiar internal calculation she made before sharing knowledge—measuring how much to give and in what form.

Kael leaned one shoulder against the outer stone wall and watched her think.

She always tested whether speaking was safe before she did it.

The older woman pointed toward the hanging racks.

"Go on then."

Nia glanced briefly toward Kael, and he recognized it for what it was—not asking permission, but steadying herself.

He held her gaze.

"You already started," he said.

She gave him a narrow look before crouching beside the fire pit again and tracing several rough lines into the dust near the stone floor.

Two younger gatherers near the entrance were pretending to organize roots with not enough conviction to fool anyone. A pair of patrol members had slowed along the upper walkway overhead.

Nia glanced around once before she seemed to actually register how many people had gathered.

"Why is everyone standing here?"

"Because you started explaining things," the older woman said.

"That still doesn't answer why nobody went back to work."

"It's more interesting than work."

Nia looked at her with mild horror at how reasonable everyone found that answer, and Kael looked away before his amusement became too visible.

"Preservation works by controlling moisture, airflow, temperature, and rot," she said, more steadily this time. "Salt removes moisture. Smoke protects the food. Airflow matters because trapped dampness slows drying and means the food spoils despite everything else."

The hunter nearest the racks looked upward thoughtfully.

"And the heat?"

"Too uneven here. Upper racks dry faster, lower sections hold more moisture depending on smoke flow."

Nia pointed upward.

"Wider vents would help, but not wider alone—you need controlled circulation. Too much airflow changes drying speed too quickly."

The older woman folded her arms loosely.

"You've thought about this before."

The brief hesitation didn't go completely unnoticed, but the mountain had been slowly learning when not to press Nia on that particular edge, and no one pushed further.

Instead one of the hunters near the back crouched beside the rough sketch she had drawn into the dirt.

"So the meat survives longer."

"Much longer, if the drying stays consistent."

"How much longer?"

The question settled into the chamber differently than the ones before it.

Conversations near the entrance faded first while several workers shifted closer without seeming to realize they were doing it, and even the hunters near the racks went still, their attention settling more completely onto Nia while smoke drifted lazily overhead.

The older woman's voice lost the last of its humor.

"You keep saying preservation improves. Nobody's said numbers yet."

Nia was quiet for a moment, her gaze moving upward toward the hanging racks while she worked through something internally.

"How long does preserved meat usually last here?" she asked.

"Several weeks if conditions stay dry," a hunter said.

"Less if storage gets damp," another added.

"Winter helps. But spoilage still happens eventually."

Nia nodded slowly, and something in her expression shifted enough that the older woman's eyes narrowed.

"What was that."

"Nothing."

"That was not a nothing face."

Kael straightened slightly from the wall.

"Answer the question."

Nia exhaled through her nose and sat back on her heels.

"Properly salted and smoked meat can last months."

The fire crackled in the silence that followed.

Even that small sound seemed louder than it had a moment ago.

"Months," a hunter repeated.

"Yes."

Another frowned.

"No."

"Yes," Nia said, without impatience.

The older preparation woman stepped farther into the chamber, her expression fully serious now.

"How many months."

Nia tilted her head slightly, working through the local climate in her mind.

"With stable airflow, enough salt, and dry storage—potentially most of winter."

No one spoke.

Kael felt the atmosphere inside the chamber shift almost physically as the implications settled through the group one by one. Different people reached different conclusions, but all of them were looking at the hanging meat differently now.

One of the younger gatherers near the entrance spoke carefully.

"You mean enough food to stay inside during heavy storms."

"Yes."

A worker farther back spoke up.

"Long-distance caravans too."

Nia followed the thought for a moment before nodding slowly.

"That too, apparently."

The older woman looked toward Kael.

He had already understood.

The moment Nia started speaking in actual timelines instead of vague improvements, this had stopped being kitchen experimentation, and both of them knew it.

Nia seemed to realize the mood inside the chamber had changed because some uncertainty returned to her posture as she looked at the suddenly serious faces surrounding her.

"Did I say something strange?"

Several people stared at her.

The older woman pressed one hand slowly across her face.

"You just explained a winter supply breakthrough while kneeling in soot beside a fire pit."

Nia blinked.

Then looked down at the dirt sketches briefly before looking back up.

"That sounds considerably larger when someone else says it out loud."

A rough huff escaped Kael before he could entirely stop it.

Nia's eyes moved toward him immediately.

"You're enjoying this."

"A little," he admitted.

"That's unkind."

"You keep alarming people accidentally," he said. "It's become a pattern."

She gave him a flat look, which was still somehow warmer than most people's smiles.

One of the hunters near the racks lifted a hanging strip of meat from the hook nearest him, frowning at it slowly.

"If it dries that long—wouldn't it become too hard to eat?"

Nia's attention shifted back immediately.

"It does get harder, yes."

The hunter looked briefly vindicated.

"You trim it thinner afterward," she continued.

She reached toward the strip in his hand and indicated with two fingers where the cuts would run.

"Once it's properly preserved, you shave smaller pieces instead of biting through the whole strip. You can also soften it while cooking—add it to stews, broths, grain dishes, or simmer it slowly to reintroduce moisture. It behaves differently than fresh meat but it's entirely usable."

The expression on the hunter's face moved through several stages before settling into something that looked like a man quietly revising a significant number of assumptions.

The older woman looked toward the hanging racks with visible calculation now.

"That changes winter kitchens entirely."

Workers murmured around her in overlapping conversations. The discussion spread naturally through the chamber as people compared ideas, questions, and possibilities with one another.

Nia rubbed a little soot absently from her fingertips and looked back up toward the hanging meat with an expression Kael recognized.

She had been so focused on explaining the process itself that the full scale of what she had described had not quite landed until she heard everyone else reaching for it.

He watched the quiet satisfaction settle into her face alongside the mild bewilderment, and felt something warm move through his own chest at the combination.

She understood why it mattered.

That had always been true.

What she was still adjusting to was the fact that everyone around her understood it now too, and that the understanding felt shared rather than solitary.

"All right," she admitted quietly, looking at the racks.

"That is genuinely useful when everyone starts saying it out loud."

Several rough laughs moved through the chamber around her.

The older woman pointed toward Nia without looking away from the racks.

"You are not allowed to mention things like that casually in the middle of a work shift."

Nia looked genuinely uncertain about the complaint.

"When would have been a better time?"

The laughter that followed was full enough that even Kael's expression moved, though he turned toward the upper vents before it became entirely obvious.

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