Touch a tear and hold — the needle sews it closed. +1 per seam mended. ←/→ choose a tear, hold Space to sew. A seam shivers pale before it opens — nothing tears without warning. Open seams let the cold in; watch the frost climb the bar. Closed seams let it fade. When the cold fills the tent, the night ends. M mutes.
THE STORY
Whoever crosses the pass sleeps in the old tent, and whoever sleeps there sleeps warm — that is the promise that came with the needle, and the needle came to you. The gale knows every seam by name, and opens them the way it has opened everything it was ever given. You cannot argue with the wind. You can only sew — and the night is long, and the thread, for now, holds.