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Another winter had arrived and it was especially hard in this land they were currently passing through, littered with high mountain ranges. The peaks covered in white, snowstorms ravaged the already perilous mountain paths.
And that's not even mentioning the demons.
Wukong was out on scouting-duty while the rest of their small band of pilgrims struggled their way up the steep terrain. The snowstorm raging on made it nigh impossible to see more than a few feet ahead, but fortunately his fiery eyes managed to see through the all-encompassing whiteness just enough to find there weren't any demons lurking around this particular mountain.
As soon as he was done, he hopped back to his fellow pilgrims, reporting to Tripitaka about the apparent demon-freeness of the mountain.
The human monk sighed, his shoulders visibly slumping in relief.
"What a welcome change of pace," he said quietly.
"At least we don't have to worry about you getting kidnapped again. It's really been boring lately, rescuing you," Wukong teased and flashed his master a grin.
Tripitaka made an offended face at that, which he quickly schooled into a glare. And his glare sure was something. It also happened to be the expression Wukong saw most often on the monk's face.
There was another expression he saw often, when he somehow managed not to piss of his master. A small smile, very Tripitaka-like in its simplicity and earnestness. It was suspiciously absent from the monk's face today though, but it might have been just Wukong himself unintenionally being more annoying than usual.
They went on their way and as their path kept zigzagging upwards through the mountain's terrain, the pilgrims had no choice but following it right into the worst of the snowstorm.
The wind now blew in Wukong's fur with all its might and the monkey found all his fellow disciples slowing their pace more and more as they stumbled in the whiteness around them.
They'd never reach India at this rate, he thought sourly.
"This wretched storm!" Bajie cursed after toppling over for the third time. "I can't see a thing! How do we know this isn't some demon's work?"
"Eldest brother scouted ahead," Wujing supplied him with the answer.
"Ha! And how do we know he told the truth? Maybe he was slacking!"
"Slacking is your thing, second brother," Wukong growled. "I'd tell you to scout ahead yourself next time but we all know you can't be trusted with it."
He flicked the pig's ear for emphasis. Given how most of Bajie's face was covered with his scarf to protect him from the wind and snow, it was just about the only part of him Wukong could reach.
"Master! He's bullying me!"
"I'll show you bulllying!"
"Wukong!" There was that glare again. "Bajie! Both of you-"
Tripitaka pressed his lips into a thin line. Now that he'd turned back on the horse to scold them, Wukong feelt like something wasn't quite right with him. He seemed paler, somehow. Then again, it could have just been the light.
"Please, just let's keep going," the monk finished. "Night is falling, and the storm could get even worse. We should find shelter for the night."
Night really was falling, so it was probably just the light. Wukong shrugged and he surged forward, flicking Bajie's ear again as he passed him. It was more playful than malicious this time, and if the pig failed to recognize that and started yelling for their master again... well, that totally wasn't his fault.
They found shelter, a cave, eventually. Well, it couldn't even truthfully be called a cave. More of a crevice in the side of the mountain, just barely big enough to protect them from the worst of the wind and snow. On the bright side however, it was also way too small to be home to any demons the monkey's scouting might have missed, so the pilgrims seemed to be safe for the night.
This might have been the only bright thing that could be said about their situation, because the storm wasn't about to stop anytime soon, and no matter how hard they tried, Bajie and Wujing - and then Wukong too, because he got tired of his brothers' vain attempts and the pig's muffled strings of expletives, and decided to just do it himself - couldn't get the fire going. Which was just ridiculous, because he was the Great Sage Equal To Heaven and okay, the other two weren't so bad either. The point is, they are three demons of great magical power and they should have been able to figure this out.
And maybe they would have, if Bajie hadn't been such an ass and it wouldn't have escalated into a fight - again. Because of course the pig had to start on about how it was all Wukong's fault and how he must have brought the wrong kind of firewood, instead of, you know, thanking him properly for cloud-sommersaulting for it in the first place.
They still didn't quite have this whole team-thing figured out, Wukong had to admit. He wasn't really sure they would, even when they reached the West.
He was just about to retort when Tripitaka cut them off, his voice this time tired and low as he asked them not to fight and reassured them they could do without a fire for one night. He definitely looked paler now, and smaller too, like he had shrunk somehow, and Wukong was so taken aback by this that he completely forgot to sass the monk, or even Bajie, back, as Tripitaka softly bid goodnight to his disciples and went to sleep.
The monkey fidgeted with his tiger-skin kilt for a short while, puffing up his fur even more to keep himself warm, but he couldn't quite shake the thought from the back of his mind.
"Don't you think there's something off about him?" He asked the others eventually, nudging Wujing's side with his elbow and jerking his head towards the sleeping form of the monk.
"What do you mean?" His younger brother pulled up his eyebrow.
"He's pale. Almost blue."
At this, Bajie burst out laughing. "Monkey's right!" he said between two snorting laughs. "His lips are nearly the same colour as yours, third brother!"
"Yeah and as far as I know, humans don't change colours, so they really shouldn't be." Wukong scratched his chin.
"Oh please, because you are such an expert on humans, eldest brother," Bajie rolled his eyes. "Who out of the three of us lived with a human family for years and had a human wife?"
"And did she change colour, second brother?" Wujing countered, his face the textbook image of helpful innocence, to mask the smugness in his voice.
Bajie took a breath to answer him, then visibly deflated.
"No," he admitted.
Wukong chuckled, exchanging a look with the now openly smug Wujing.
"So, what's wrong with him?" Bajie asked, to change the topic of the conversation as quickly as possible, and the three disciples fell into toughtful silence.
"He's just cold, dimwits," said a sudden voice behind their backs and Wujing jumped, startled, stumbling into Wukong.
"Hey, get off me, big guy!" the monkey complained. Not like he was even a bit affected by the river-demon's weight, just as a principle.
"Sorry," his brother mumbled, still staring with wide eyes at the horse, who, of course, Wujing also knew could talk, but had never heard him do so.
And, Wukong thought, the horse was right. Their master must have been cold, colder than them - Wukong had his fur, for starters, but he was also an immortal demon and also also technically made of stone. But Tripitaka was human and that must have meant he was more affected by the cold than them, more affected than he probably let on. Now he saw it, the shaking of the monk's shoulders and the way he curled in on himself, trying to expose as little of his skin to the cold as he could.
They really should find a way to light that fire. What use was all this if the scripture pilgrim froze to death halfway to India?
Wait, could they do that? Could humans just freeze to death? That certainly sounded unpleasant.
Just when the monkey was about to voice this rather uncomfortable question, the horse shook his head and with that, changed back into his true form. The slender white dragon slithered through between his fellow disciples to the pieces of wood scattered accross their sorry excuse for a fireplace and with one soft breath, lit the fire.
Another shake of his head, and this time the dragon took a human form, a young man in elaborately embroidered princely robes, warming his hands by the now merrily crackling fire.
"What?" Bailong asked, seeing his brothers still staring at him with dumbfounded looks. He shrugged, and a little defensively said, "I'm cold too."
Wukong cracked a smile.
"How nice of you to chat with us sometime, youngest brother!" He laughed, and Bailong shyly returned his grin.
The disciples followed him, gathering around the fire. The flames danced, lighting up the cave, and their long shadows cast on the walls of the cave flickered and danced along with them.
"Aaah, that's more like it," Bajie sighed, stretching his limbs in the warmth, and a big smile grew on his face.
And Wukong found himself silently agreeing with his brother. He didn't mind the cold all that much, in fact, he wasn't particularly fond of fire, hadn't been for the past five hundred years, but this fire was gentle, benevolent, and he had to admit, its warmth was... quite nice, all things considered.
And it must have been that for Tripitaka too, because the monk already looked better, less pale and more like his usual self, as the red-orange light smoothened out the lines of his face.
Bailong followed the monkey's gaze and he seemed to understand, as he soon reached a hand out to their master's shoulder, shaking him carefully.
"Master," he spoke softly. "We have a fire now, come closer."
Tripitaka woke up from his fitful rest, sleep-hazy eyes confused only for a moment before he recognized his youngest disciple in his current form.
"Ah," he said then, like he understood everything, the beginning of a smile playing on his lips. "Thank you Bailong."
He sat up, scooting closer to the fire, and gently wrapped an arm around the dragon-turned-horse-turned-human prince without Bailong ever having to ask. The disciple snuggled himself close to the monk's side with a content sigh. And then there it was, Tripitaka's smile, as he held out his free hand to warm it by the fire, while he adjusted the other to hold Bailong tighter.
There was silence following, only broken by the crackling of the flames and their own breathing inside the crevice and the relentless howling of the wind outside, and Wukong thought Tripitaka was going to go back to sleep, leaning on each other with Bailong, but the monk suddenly spoke up.
"Aren't you three cold as well?" He asked, voice soft and only a little raspy, like when he just recited a whole bunch of sutras in a row.
He opened his free arm, careful not to jostle the now sleeping Bailong and extended a hand towards them, with a look in his warm eyes that was somehow both encouraging and pleading. And there was that smile again, too.
Wukong hesitated. He wasn't sure why exactly, monkeys slept piled together more often than not. And he missed it terribly. It was one of those things he missed most about Flower Fruit Mountain. Still, he found himself hesitating.
Wujing passed him and offered a pat on his shoulder, before setting himself down next to Bailong, enveloping the young prince in a warm hug from the other side too. Bailong woke briefly and mumbled something Wukong didn't hear, as just then Bajie bumped his shoulder into his and grinned at him as he trotted his way to Tripitaka and settled by the monk's side, leaving a small - in fact, suspiciously monkey-sized - gap between the two of them.
Wukong didn't move.
"Oh come on, you stubborn monkey!" Tripitaka chuckled softly then and the monkey had no choice but to sigh fondly - though this he wouldn't admit later - and move to wedge himself between his master and his disciple-brother, resting his head on Tripitaka as the monk wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
"Comfy?" teased him Bajie, half-asleep and voice still filled with sarcasm.
"Would be comfier if you didn't stink so much," Wukong struck back.
This earned him a scolding "Wukong!" from Tripitaka and a huffed laugh from both Wujing and Bajie.
"Love you too, eldest brother," the pig snorted.
Wukong smacked him. But Bajie didn't care, he was fast asleep already. Falling asleep in record time whenever and wherever he wanted was one of his specialties.
"Are you feeling better, Master?" a sleepy Wujing asked softly from Tripitaka’s other side, and that finally diverted the monkey's attention away from Bajie's teasing words.
"Yes, Wujing, thank you. It's perfect," the monk said and Wukong couldn't see his face from here but he just knew Tripitaka was smiling, as he tightened his hold around him a little, rubbing the monkey's arm. "Just perfect."
Wukong wanted to roll his eyes and maybe even groan out loud at this declaration.
He did neither.
Maybe Tripitaka was right.
Maybe this wasn't home, on Flower-Fruit Mountain, with his family of monkeys, but times like this, it almost came close. In any case, Tripitaka held him close and the snoring Bajie was warm next to him and the soft breathing of Wujing and the crackling of Bailong's fire was soothing enough that he found himself not really caring about the howling wind and violent storm outside, or the hordes of demons still awaiting them on their journey to the West.
Maybe they were figuring it out, after all.