That warmth—the soothing, comforting sensation. Even now, I occasionally recall the fine hairs brushing against my trembling fingertips.

“Botchan , you’re awake!” Dusk, who had been lying on my chest, sat up upon noticing my movement. I gently stroked the soft fur on his belly. It was so delicate, though slightly different from Nighteye’s, yet it still evoked the calming effect of a same-species touch.

“How long?” I needed to understand the situation to decide my next course of action.

“You were unconscious for two days, botchan. It seems you’ve suffered a concussion, and you’ll need at least a week of bed rest for observation.”

I hadn’t expected a Kamchatka brown bear’s punch to be so powerful. Maybe I should avoid such reckless and pointless acts in the future—they seem detrimental to my health.

Dusk used a small flashlight to examine my pupils and had me follow his finger to check my field of vision. “Also, Alpha called yesterday, but...”

Damn it.

“You didn’t answer, did you?” I tried to keep my tone neutral, but Dusk still looked a bit anxious.

“I didn’t reveal anything. If Alpha couldn’t reach us, the situation might...” I didn’t listen to what he said next. The warmth of his fur beneath my fingers was distracting.

“When I recover, I’ll be sure to skin you.” I continued stroking the fur on his belly as I spoke. Dusk seemed at a loss for words, probably unsure how to respond.

“Y-yes, Botchan.” While he stammered, I caught the scent of Dawn approaching. He was heading in our direction.

“Why were you lying on me?”

Understanding my question, Dusk looked even more nervous, fumbling awkwardly as he tried to stand up.

“During your unconsciousness, your body struggled to regulate its temperature and kept losing heat. But since we’re in the Siberian tundra without proper equipment and can’t risk moving you with a potential brain injury, we had to resort to using fur and body heat to keep you warm.” As Dusk scrambled to explain, Dawn entered the tent with a motion sensor beacon strapped to his back. He silently set about organizing equipment, and Dusk moved to help him.

“Come here.”

Dusk hesitated for a moment, unsure of what I meant. I had to clarify.

“I’m cold.”

Dawn nodded at Dusk, who then returned, climbed into the sleeping bag, and resumed his original position. I had to admit, it was very warm.

“You’d make an excellent blanket,” I murmured, running my fingers through the fur on his back. I could feel him gradually relaxing under my touch.

“Yes, Botchan,” Dusk replied. Meanwhile, Dawn, now operating the motion sensor beacon from a black case, remained focused on his task.

“You know I hate wasting words, don’t you? Didn’t I tell you to come here?” As I finished speaking, Dawn’s ears and tail immediately perked up, his heterochromatic eyes—one brown, one blue—full of surprise. “I’m very cold.”

After a brief hesitation, Dawn set aside his equipment, removed his waterproof camouflage coat, and climbed into the sleeping bag, lying on my right side. I wrapped my right arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Dusk shifted slightly to adjust his position. Their fur felt identical to the touch—coarse on the outer layer, but soft and fine underneath. A few snowflakes clung to Dawn’s coat, quickly melting into the warmth of his fur.

“The warmth and softness of wolf fur always makes me feel safe and relaxed,” I said, perhaps prompted by memories of the past and a need to vent the emotions stirring within me. “Is it the effect of intraspecies contact? I’m not sure.” Soon, their body heat warmed me up, and Dusk and Dawn listened quietly as I rambled on.

Outside the tent, snow began to fall softly.