Marked by the Four Beast Lords After Transmigration

The communal kitchens stayed crowded long after the evening meal ended.

Storm weather always pushed more work inward once the upper paths became difficult to cross, and the lower chambers carried the steady rhythm of winter preparation around the hearths. Workers moved between counters with stacks of cleaned bowls balanced against their hips while others hauled fresh snowmelt toward the heating stones before the water channels cooled too much overnight. Steam drifted beneath the rafters beside smoke and the heavier smell of broth simmering low across the larger fires.

Nia sat near one of the side counters rubbing another pinch of flour between her fingers.

Still rough compared to anything from Earth, but finally fine enough that it no longer threatened her teeth every time she tested it. She pressed a little against her tongue before nodding once toward the bowl.

“Okay. That’s finally usable.”

Across from her, Shen tied another cloth securely over one of the storage jars before setting it beside the others. “Mm.”

Nia looked up immediately. “You already knew that before I said it.”

“I expected improvement.”

“You spent half the afternoon adjusting the grindstone.”

“And now it no longer needs adjustment.”

“That sounds close to confidence.”

Shen rinsed flour dust from his hands near the basin while steam curled upward around his wrists. “You make the same face whenever something works.”

Nia pushed the bowl a little farther toward him. “You people notice entirely too much.”

“You live beside Kael.”

“That still does not explain why everyone monitors me like grain inventory.”

The kitchen doors opened before Shen answered.

Cold air swept briefly through the room around Kael as he stepped inside carrying another armful of split wood against one shoulder. Snow dusted the darker fur lining of his mantle near the collar, already melting from the kitchen heat.

Nia looked over automatically. “Still bad outside?”

“Worse near the upper ridge.”

Kael lowered the wood beside the hearth wall before pulling off his gloves. Meltwater darkened the ends of his hair near his neck.

Nia watched one drop slide beneath his collar before reaching for the nearest drying cloth and holding it toward him.

“Your hair’s still wet.”

Kael took the cloth and wiped the back of his neck once before tossing it over one shoulder. The colder air lingering around him followed as he crossed toward the kettle warming near the side hearth.

“That tea isn’t ready yet,” Nia warned.

“It’s hot.”

“That is not what tea means.”

Kael poured it anyway.

Shen adjusted one of the storage jars farther from the edge of the counter. “The leaves have not fully opened.”

“I know.”

“Then this becomes a deliberate choice.”

“It’s efficient.”

“It’s terrible,” Nia corrected.

Kael drank the half-steeped tea beside her without concern.

The warmth in the kitchens thickened as more workers rotated inward from the outer passages. Damp gloves hung beside the heating stones beneath drying herb bundles while fresh bread cooled beneath cloth covers along the rear counters. The sharper smell of smoke still lingered through the lower chambers, but now toasted grain and steeping roots carried through the room too, mixing with broth, cedar, wet wool, and warm stone.

Nia sifted another handful of flour through her fingers while two younger workers crossed behind her carrying stacked trays toward the lower pantry before the bread cooled too much. Someone near the far hearth laughed loudly enough to draw complaints from one of the older cooks without slowing the movement around the room.

Kael stepped beside her long enough for mountain cold to brush against her arm before the hearth heat swallowed it again.

Without thinking about it, Nia leaned slightly toward the warmth still trapped in his mantle while separating the finer flour into another bowl.

Kael’s eyes lowered toward the movement.

A few moments later his tail settled behind her stool across the floorboards, heavy warmth resting against the outside of her calf while he continued drinking his unfinished tea.

Nia kept sorting flour.

Across the counter, Shen’s gaze flicked once toward Kael’s tail before returning to the storage jars beside him.

No one mentioned it.

Which only made her more aware of it.

“We should try another bread batch tomorrow,” Nia said after a while. “This grind’s finally soft enough to roll thinner.”

“You said that yesterday,” Kael replied.

“Yesterday it still tasted like edible gravel.”

“You still ate it.”

“That was research.”

“You nearly cracked a tooth.”

“Progress requires sacrifice.”

Shen stacked the last finished jar onto the shelf. “Your methods remain unusually destructive.”

“Thank you. Finally. Someone with standards.”

“I did not say you should stop.”

“That sounds irresponsible coming from the person who helped me adjust the grindstone.”

Kael reached behind her for one of the empty bowls near the back counter. His hand rested briefly against the back of her shoulder as he passed.

Warm pressure spread through the fabric of her sleeve, and Nia nearly tipped the flour scoop into the wrong bowl before correcting the movement quickly enough to reach for the cloth beside her instead.

The kitchens continued moving around them. One of the younger workers crossed toward the water basins carrying another bucket of snowmelt while Elder Bran argued with two exhausted assistants over inventory markings near the rear storage table. Somewhere deeper in the lower corridors, heavy footsteps echoed through stone before fading beneath the ordinary noise of evening work.

Shen rinsed another cloth at the basin. “Do you plan to continue grinding tonight?”

Nia flexed her fingers immediately. “No. My shoulders already filed complaints.”

“That explains the look you gave the grindstone earlier.”

“It knew what it did.”

Kael set his cup aside. “Bath’s ready.”

Nia looked up immediately. “You already heated it?”

“Before evening meal,” Shen said while hanging another rinsed cloth near the drying rack.

She stared at both of them for a second before pushing back from the counter hard enough for the stool legs to scrape stone.

“You could have mentioned that an hour ago.”

“You were arguing with Elder Bran about storage airflow,” Kael replied.

“He was wrong.”

“You climbed onto shelving.”

“I needed visual confirmation.”

“You nearly fell into dried roots.”

“I remained upright.”

“Through luck.”

“That still counts.”

Shen folded another cloth over the drying rack. “The heating stones should still be warm if you go now.”

Nia was already moving toward the corridor.

A younger worker carrying stacked bowls had to sidestep quickly to avoid colliding with her.

“Careful,” Kael said behind her.

“I have priorities.”

“You stop watching where you walk when excited.”

“That happened one time.”

“This morning.”

“There was ice.”

The private bathing chambers connected to Kael’s household sat deeper inside the residential passages where the stone held heat longer through winter. Warm air reached Nia before she even pulled aside the heavy entrance covering.

Steam drifted through the room beneath the sharper mineral smell of heated stone.

The bathing pool had already been filled. Folded drying cloths rested near the stone bench beside fresh clothes warming near the vent channels, and someone had replaced the lantern oil recently enough that the flame still burned cleanly without smoke.

Nia loosened the heavier outer wrap from around her shoulders while heat settled gradually back into her skin after the colder corridors.

“You two keep becoming alarmingly organized,” she muttered.

“Mm.”

Kael’s answer came from the corridor outside while wood shifted against stone.

Farther down the passage, Shen answered, “The left channel was cooling too quickly earlier.”

Of course they had already adjusted it.

Nia crouched beside the bath and dipped her fingers briefly into the water before reaching for the folded cloths near the bench. Heat climbed immediately through her wrist once her skin touched the surface.

Behind her, Kael moved once near the entrance before his footsteps eased farther back into the corridor again.

“You’ve been awake since before dawn,” he said. “Don’t fall asleep in there.”

“That happened one time.”

“You stopped answering.”

“I stopped answering because the water was warm.”

The low sound she got back from the corridor carried enough amusement that she refused to look toward the doorway and encourage him further.

Instead she reached for the ties at her sleeves while wind pressed faintly through the upper passages somewhere above Hearthfang and heat continued gathering steadily through the stone around the bath.

Nia untied the first sleeve and draped the damp outer layers across the warmer stone bench beside the bath before lowering herself carefully into the water.

The heat soaking through her shoulders felt infinitely better than crouching beside a wash basin with numb fingers while trying to rinse fast enough not to freeze afterward.

The first breath left slowly afterward while warmth loosened muscles that had been tight since before dawn. Grinding grain had worked deeper into her back than she realized earlier, especially after spending half the afternoon leaning over the stone table correcting flour texture by hand because apparently nobody inside Hearthfang feared repetitive shoulder injuries.

Steam drifted upward around her face while cooler air lingered near the ceiling vents above. Somewhere farther through the residential passages, footsteps crossed stone before fading again beneath the muted pressure of storm wind against the mountain.

Nia leaned back carefully against the warmed edge of the bath and closed her eyes for a moment while water shifted softly around her.

The scrape of wood against stone sounded like Kael shifting position near the corridor entrance again, and the recognition came naturally enough now that she barely paused on it before reaching for the soapstone resting beside the pool.

She worked it slowly between her hands while heat continued loosening the ache from her shoulders and lower back.

“You reorganized three entire storage shelves today,” Kael said from somewhere outside the entrance.

“They were inefficient.”

“You moved half the dried roots.”

“They were organized badly.”

“You climbed onto barrels.”

“They were stable barrels.”

A quieter stretch of silence followed before he answered, “One of them rolled.”

Nia opened one eye toward the doorway even though she still refused to look directly toward the corridor. “That sounds exaggerated.”

“It made Shen drop a basket.”

“That sounds like his problem.”

From farther down the passage, Shen’s voice answered calmly, “You nearly fell into turnips.”

“I remained upright.”

“You grabbed me.”

“That still counts as remaining upright.”

Water lapped softly against the sides of the bath while steam gathered thicker near the surface.

Outside the chamber, someone farther down the corridor argued briefly about missing blankets before another voice threatened to throw them back outside into the snow if they kept shouting near the sleeping chambers.

The argument ended immediately after that.

Nia rinsed soap slowly from one arm and let her head rest briefly against the warmed stone behind her again.

The mountain never really went quiet during storms. Too many people stayed active through winter nights now. Heating stones needed rotating. Water channels needed monitoring. Someone always moved between kitchens, storage corridors, or sleeping chambers carrying another stack of folded cloths or a fresh kettle from the hearths.

She had started recognizing people by footsteps without consciously trying to learn them, and the thought barely had time to settle before lighter movement approached through the corridor again.

The lighter pace crossing the corridor sounded more like Shen than Kael, and ceramic touched stone near the entrance a moment later.

“I brought tea before the kitchens emptied the kettle,” he said.

Nia looked immediately toward the doorway. “See? One of you understands civilization.”

“You argued with Elder Bran over boiling temperature yesterday,” Kael replied from farther down the corridor.

“No,” Nia said while reaching for the rinse bowl near the edge of the bath. “That was a defense of basic civilization standards.”

Water poured slowly over her shoulder while steam drifted upward around her face. Outside the bathing chamber, someone crossed the corridor carrying enough metal to rattle softly against stone before the sound faded deeper into the residential passages.

Shen settled somewhere near the entrance after that, close enough that she could hear ceramic shift lightly against the floor beside him.

“Elder Bran asked where you learned inventory systems,” Shen said.

Nia groaned immediately. “Do not tell me he wants charts.”

“He asked what an alphabet was.”

Nia lowered the cup slowly. “…I regret teaching him anything.”

“You made labels,” Kael said.

“I made labels because your people organize food like raccoons.”

“What’s a raccoon?”

Nia opened her mouth.

Stopped.

“An animal with deeply questionable priorities.”

Shen’s quieter laugh carried briefly through the doorway.

“Accurate enough,” he said.

Nia finished the last of the tea before setting the cup carefully near the bath edge and sinking slightly deeper into the water again while heat continued gathering steadily through the stone around her.

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