Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 386 - Stories We’ll Tell, And Those Going To Our Grave

The carcass was still warm when I reached it another minute later, a haze of steam rising and shrouding it. A small stream of frothy pink blood where it leaked from its mouth bubbled and sizzled on the snow.

Dull, flat marbles for eyes proved it had lost the spark that animated it. Though its internals were still making gurgling sounds. I checked the bear’s vitals anyway... physically feeling the lack of heartbeat, the absence of breath.

"Definitely dead."

Reaching for my Stash ability, I pull out the bow and my hand glowed blue just before touching the sack of meat, fat, and bones. It’s clearly a ’container’. Yes. It is.

Nothing happened. The interface still had an empty slot. My hand didn’t even stop glowing blue, it just... didn’t seem to work.

I tried again, frowning. But the bear wouldn’t... I changed thought patterns and looked at the stockpile grid. It showed the bow, an arrow count, and nothing else.

"Back then, didn’t the deer I hunted... well actually, I didn’t notice until well after I started feeding on it. When I was sated and lazy feeling."

So the question is - was it time? Does the soul need the room to leave before counting as mine or something? Or is it just as simple as taking a bite so that the world and system knows I consider it mine.

Vrika whines in my mindscape, sending an impression of lingering at kill sites leading to danger. Frankly, I feel like I - or werewolves in general - are one of the common dangers! So I pushed its worry away and decided to experiment.

"If I wait around and it was imposing a sense of ownership all this time... I’ll just have wasted energy and extend the travel back."

The system had always been particular about things. Pedantic at times, seemingly lazy or uncaring about the exact terminology at others. Honestly, it made me wonder what genius designed it.

After trying one more time, I circled and looked it in the eyes. Hundreds of pounds of grizzly bear was a massive haul that I had no intention of leaving. First, I poke it in the eye with the end of the bow.

Nothing. Its heart had been pumping all its blood into the ’thoracic cavity’ for minutes now. All the circulation should be done and over with. It certainly is sitting here in the melting frost quite slack.

"Like a bear skin rug that hasn’t been skinned yet."

I look at the tongue hanging from open mouth and decide it will work. But the moment I step in, Vrika warns with a sharp bark. I had only an instant to recognize the long clawed paw firing out.

Pressing one of my palms over its pads, with the other hand holding the bow secured on top, my feet slide and drag against the bone cracking momentum until they actually come off the ground. I’m launched back.

But the arm holding the bow tugs, for its swinging claws have gotten into the string. And there was no time to let go before its arc completes.. Like a pistol shot cracking in my ear, the line snaps from the two directional weights.

All the tension sent little lashing whips slinging around the pulleys. Tangling together, yet not before it slices my arm... the same location I’d hurt myself when going out to practice alone as a teenager.

> No. No we are not leaving that to scar there, thank you. No one will *ever* know about this. <

Standing with my chin raised, I forced myself to wait it out a while longer. It became clear to me that while it may be very much dead by most viewpoints, it is not quite entirely yet ’brain-dead’.

The nervous system is still firing, leading to reflexive bites and swipes. The beast also bit off a chunk of its own tongue just now, but I certainly have no desire to pick it up and try a taste after the senseless injury.

Licking the blood from my wound as it seals, I look at the ruined bow and feel the loss. Like a companion had just been injured. Something like how I felt when the Lunar Goddess cowed my wolf spirit.

Vrika gets a whiff of that feeling and grows offended by the comparison, so I spend the next few minutes coddling and cuddling in different forms. However, it only forgives me after forcing me to play with its silly plush doll.

The urge to rip its head off was strong, but I held back... and only shook it a little in my teeth before exiting from this frivolous distraction as the wolf howled - with laughter.

I started thinking as I knelt beside the carcass. Not directly in front of its strike zone, now. One hand on the fur, trying to store it every so often. Like a metronome.

The meat would be perfect this way. Placed away shortly after death, with almost all of its body heat trapped, it would remain fresh and warm. Even months from now if I wanted to dedicate a storage slot of ours to it.

Most important to me though is the rich organs.

"I can think of nothing better to wean my son on than a powerful beast that it’s mother took down. It will be a story to tell it someday."

Instead of chewing and regurgitating it like might be normal for wolven-kind, I’ll be using the food processor to mush them up and mix with my milk. I’m allowed some human refinement here, no?

That’s also why I bought one of their breast pumps. Well, one of Lunarizon’s... and have been a bit too weirded out and intimidated to use it yet. But who am I kidding?

Getting nursed on by sharp teeth has to be harsher than a glorified vacuum. Even if it very specifically stated that the setup was NOT to be used by humans and used a very different fluid movement process.

Rollers that actually pressed on the flexible tubing to move the higher viscosity milk which werewolf females produce. That *I* produce. With three times as much fat content, the dribble looks more like heavy cream than-

The bear disappeared.

I blinked at the empty snow as my hand dropped down right where five hundred pounds of grizzly had been. According to the stockpile interface anyway... which I’m pretty sure is only counting the *consumable* material.

Brushing melted snow from my knees, I start thinking about the fastest route back to the LTER station. Which is when a howl cut through the frigid, still air.

Then another. And another. Multiple voices... and not the yips of coyote.

Werewolves. Not yet close, but if I can hear them they are already *too close* for my liking.

And it sounds like they are hunting too. Perhaps for the large noise this bow made when it broke?

> It doesn’t matter. Time to go. Are you with me? <

My wolf spirit barks strongly once. But the change this time was also strong. Nothing had felt different as a hybrid, but my chest burns as I begin the transformation into a wolf.

Burns like magic, the kind I know. Like divine energy.

Like I’ve been set up!