They were annoying, sharp little things, so rather than throw them away, she’d decided to put them to good use. Casual, careless, perfectly placed.
The bones were the key, though. They splinter easily, crack loudly when stepped on. If anyone was trying to sneak around, they’d either get pricked, cut, or make a noise. Maybe even all three. It wasn’t about catching them—it was about making sure she knew they were there.
And it seemed like someone had been there.
The signs were faint, but clear enough for someone like her: a broken thorn, a smeared heel print, and a streak of red on a fish bone. A wince-inducing gift from her makeshift welcome mat.
Kaya crouched down and brushed her fingers over the track. The thorns weren’t scattered randomly—only around the hidden spots where someone could spy without being seen. So if someone was standing there, it wasn’t just for fun.
It was to watch her.
"Gotcha," she whispered under her breath, eyes glinting.
.
.
.
Kaya walked toward Cutie, who was crouched beside a low bush, gently picking wild berries with careful fingers. The early sun filtered through the leaves, casting warm dapples on his hair. His movements were quiet and oddly gentle for someone so strong.
As she approached, the soft rustle of her steps on the grass made his ears twitch. He turned swiftly, alert for a moment—until he saw her. His shoulders relaxed, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Oh, you’re up already," he said, straightening and walking toward her. Kaya noticed how steady his steps were. No limp, no hint of pain.
Her gaze tightened for the briefest of moments—not with malice, but with curiosity. If his foot had been injured or inflamed last night, then how could he be moving about so casually?
’Hmm, something seems off here.’
She offered him a nod in return, her blazer draped over her shoulders against the morning chill. As he neared, she tilted her head slightly and smiled, but there was something behind her eyes—a glint, a quiet calculation.
"Hey," she began, her tone light but probing. "You’re quite something, huh?"
Cutie blinked. "Huh?"
"You know..." Kaya said casually, falling in step beside him as they began to walk, "You’re strong, weirdly quiet, kind... and you heal fast, too. Like, no matter how messed up you get—swish!—you’re fine in the next blink."
She flicked her fingers for emphasis, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
Cutie slowed just a little, then looked at her with a smile that held something soft... and maybe a little tired. He shook his head.
"No," he said, voice low. "I can’t heal like that. Not myself, at least."
Kaya’s brows lifted slightly, the smile never leaving her face, though her tone shifted.
"What do you mean?" she asked, this time more genuinely curious—but still watching him. Observing the small details. The flicker in his eyes, the way he phrased things.
Cutie looked ahead, not quite meeting her gaze. "I can’t heal my own wounds. That’s not how it works."
Kaya’s smile turned into a thoughtful smirk. "Huh."
Suddenly, Cutie stopped in his tracks. His back was to her, and for a beat, he didn’t move or speak. Kaya slowed, blinking at the sudden stillness in the air between them.
Then, in a calm but slightly heavier tone, he said,
"If you want to ask something next time..."
He took a step forward, hands loose at his sides, gaze still not meeting hers.
"...don’t go the roundabout way. Just ask clearly."
His voice wasn’t harsh, but it held a weight—something that suggested he wasn’t as oblivious as he sometimes looked. That he noticed her prodding. Her half-smiles and sidelong glances. Her curiosity cloaked in casualness.
Kaya blinked, caught off guard for a moment. She stared at his back, the wind teasing a few strands of his hair, rustling the leaves around them.
Then he turned slightly, just enough for her to catch the smile on his face. Not mocking. Not cold. Just... knowing.
And with that, he walked on, leaving her standing in the path, the faintest hum of surprise curling at the edge of her lips.
She exhaled softly through her nose and muttered under her breath,
"Huh. Bunny’s got a bite."
With that, Kaya finally understood—Cutie wasn’t the one she was looking for.
"Hmm... there’s no sign... aha, it must be those two."
Earlier, she might’ve felt silly for even suspecting them. But now... it all made sense.
Kaya turned on her heel.
No time to waste.
She hurried back toward the riverside where she had last seen him heading off with that bundle of wide-eyed, clueless fools. Her pace quickened. Her fingers twitched against the edge of her blazer, sharp focus returning to her eyes. She didn’t run—but there was urgency in the way her feet hit the path.
Down by the river, Cutie knelt beside the water. His back was slightly hunched, fingers dipped into the stream as he gently washed the wild berries. The movement was slow, repetitive, as if his hands knew what to do but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
His head stayed low, the messy strands of his hair falling into his face. His eyes, though open, looked a little distant—unfocused.
There was a softness in his posture, a kind of quiet that clung to him. Not the kind that brought peace—but the kind that came after overthinking.
Maybe it was the way he looked—too sincere, too gullible—that made it so easy. Kaya hadn’t even needed to play her cards properly. A few vague words, a little curiosity in her tone, and he had already opened up to her like an unguarded child.
He looked foolish now. So foolish that Kaya didn’t even have to act. She barely tried—and he believed her.
"Haa..."
He let out a breath—half sigh, half scoff. Not at her. At himself.
She hadn’t hurt him. She hadn’t accused him. She hadn’t even lied directly.