--
And then—
When she finally stirred, her eyes blinked open into complete darkness.
For a split second, panic fluttered in her chest.
It wasn’t just dim—it was pitch black. No torchlight, no faint flicker of moonlight bleeding through the seams of the tent. Nothing.
She lifted her head slightly.
Her breath caught.
She tried to look around—but her vision grasped at shadows and found nothing. Like she was blind again.
And then...
Just like always.
She blinked twice.
And suddenly, her world sharpened. The darkness peeled back—not into light, but into clarity. As if her eyes had adjusted unnaturally fast. Like someone had turned on invisible water taps, rinsing her vision crystal-clear.
Shapes formed.
She could see the outline of the clay pot in the corner, the slope of the dried cloths hanging from the beam, the small basket of berries now slightly shriveled beside her pillow.
Water glistened faintly in a bowl. Her own reflection blinked back at her—dim but there.
Strange.
So strange.
Kaya sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair. Her body felt lighter, yes—but also a little foreign, like someone had oiled her joints and replaced her weight with air.
The darkness around her no longer scared her. Not really. But it still unsettled her.
"Maybe I just... have good night vision now," she whispered to herself.
She didn’t want to think too hard about it.
After drinking some water and sitting quietly for a while, Kaya finally lay back down. There wasn’t much else she could do—darkness had swallowed everything, making even her thoughts feel heavy.
She closed her eyes, trying to settle herself to sleep.
And that’s when she heard it.
Footsteps.
But something about it made her blood chill—she hadn’t heard anyone enter. The sound of footsteps had only started after they were already inside. Like someone had simply appeared and only then decided to walk.
Kaya didn’t move.
Very slowly, she slid one hand under the thin hide draped over her body, fingers searching for the familiar weight of her gun tucked at her waist, just like always. Hidden under the cover, she hoped her movement was invisible.
But her fingers found nothing.
No gun. No holster.
That’s when she remembered—she wasn’t in her usual gear. She was wearing the plain white clothes they’d stitched together just a few days ago. There were no pockets. No straps.
No place to carry a weapon.
Her heart sank, then simmered into frustration. She had placed the gun beside her when she laid down—but now she was facing the wrong direction. To grab it, she’d have to turn. Fast. Risky.
And the way this person had entered—silent, precise, too calm—it was terrifying. One wrong move, and she wasn’t sure she’d get a second chance.
She held her breath, letting her eyes stay closed, though her ears were sharply tuned.
The footsteps came closer.
From the weight of each step, she could tell—it wasn’t QT. Not YU either. Too light. Too careful.
Someone around her own size. Maybe a bit shorter.
Her mind started running. Who was this? One of her people? Someone from the fox tribe? There were a few who matched that description—four, maybe five.
But just as she was piecing possibilities together, she felt it.
The shift of air.
Someone had crouched down right beside her.
Kaya didn’t move, didn’t flinch—but she could feel his gaze settling on her like a hand brushing over her skin.
And now her heartbeat was no longer steady—it was war-drum loud inside her ears.
On the other hand, Sparrow—who had just stepped into Kaya’s space in his human form—looked as pale as moonlight on snow. His breath hitched in his throat the moment his gaze fell on her, lying still under the darkness. He hadn’t wanted to take on his human form; in fact, he resisted it till the last second. But the fear of leaving behind even a single feather in his bird form—and facing Kaya’s wrath the next day—was enough to make him switch.
Still, he felt stuffed and uncomfortable, almost like his own skin didn’t quite fit right.
Now, sitting beside her, he knew—deep in his gut—this was probably the worst decision of his life.
He hesitated for a long second before finally whispering, just above a breath,
"Kaya..."
The soft call fluttered into the air like a secret not meant to be spoken.
Kaya’s body didn’t move, but her fingers curled slightly, forming a fist beneath the cloth. Her breathing stayed even, calm, almost too perfect. But in her mind, everything had stopped.
That voice—she had never heard it before.
And she knew one thing for sure: none of the beastmen she had met so far had that kind of voice.
Low. Calm. Gentle—but unknown.
So she didn’t answer. She didn’t flinch.
She just lay still, letting silence grow around her like a second skin.
And waited.
Sparrow cupped his mouth with both hands and called out—just a little louder than usual, only a tiny bit louder.
"You fat woman, what happened? Fatty, fatty, fatty! Idiot?"
There it was—one insult after another, slipping off his tongue like a habit. And there Kaya was—her fists clenching hard under her thin cover, trying to calm herself before she gave in to the urge to beat this foolish creature to a pulp. Her knuckles were tight, hidden under the cloth, but her silence was deafening.
The sparrow, trembling now, his pale face betraying his nerves, waited for the blow... but Kaya didn’t move.
Instead, his eyes flicked around the room.
He’d seen her asleep before—deeply asleep—but always with that same uneasy doubt hanging in the back of his mind. What if she woke up? What if she reacted to his voice? His presence?
Now, as he stood there awkwardly, his gaze drifted around her space. Cramped yet oddly organized. They were sharing the room with thirteen, maybe fourteen others. And now, even that quiet fox beastman had taken up a corner. Still, here she was—Kaya—sleeping like she owned the place. Comfortable. Undisturbed. That annoyed him for reasons he couldn’t quite put into words.