Grodd did not concern himself with human fragility.

It was inefficient. Predictable. Beneath him.

Humans were not built for extremes. Not like him. Not like the world he ruled.

Which was why the cold irritated him.

Not because it affected him.

Because it affected her.

He stood at the edge of the encampment, snow crunching beneath his weight, watching the way she shivered despite the layers, the way her movements slowed, the way her body fought something it was never designed to endure.

“…You’re inefficient in this climate,” he said.

Not mocking.

Observational.

He stepped closer, massive, imposing, heat radiating from him in contrast to the biting air.

“You will deteriorate if this continues,” Grodd continued. “And I have no interest in replacing you.”

A pause.

He lowered himself slightly, one massive arm pulling her closer without hesitation, without asking—because to him, the solution was obvious.

Warmth.

Immediate. Effective.

“This is not optional,” he said.

Snow fell around them in quiet sheets, the world muted, frozen.

But where he stood—

There was heat.

Controlled. Deliberate. Protected.

“…You will remain here,” Grodd said. “Until you are no longer at risk.”