.
.
.
Morning had barely stretched across the sky when Kaya and the others got ready to leave. The air was cool, calm—almost too calm—and the kind of quiet that made even the softest sounds stand out. Kaya was crouched near her things, tying her pack closed, her movents quick but distracted. Sothing about this goodbye felt heavier than it should’ve.
Just a few feet away, a little sparrow sat on a flat stone, blinking slowly as if half-asleep.
Then, out of nowhere, a low male voice, quiet but clear, whispered right into the sparrow’s ear.
"Hah... still acting?"
The sparrow flinched hard, its small head whipping around. Its wings twitched, almost ready to take flight. But there was no one. No footsteps. No shadow. Nothing behind it or around.
....
A while later.
After leaving the cave, they walked deeper into the forest. It wasn’t exactly a peaceful stroll—everything they carried felt heavier than it should, and the uneven ground didn’t help.
Kaya had picked up a sturdy stick to help keep her balance, especially with the bandage-like white cloth tied around her eyes. It didn’t make her blind, not exactly, but it blurred the details—especially the small things on the forest floor. And those small things had a habit of tripping her up, which was getting annoying fast.
The sparrow, who usually got a free ride from Cutie, was now flying on his own. No one had the energy to carry him, not even cutie, who had quietly decided that everyone was on their own today.
Truthfully, Kaya didn’t mind the weight. She was used to hauling military-grade gear and sprinting under pressure. This wasn’t exactly new. But it was a forest, and forests were unpredictable. Twisted roots, hidden dips in the path, bugs that flew too close—everything just made the journey that much more tiring.
By the ti the sun started to dip toward the horizon and the light turned golden, they knew it was ti to stop. There were no caves in sight, no ruins or shelters—nothing but trees and more trees.
So Kaya, with her usual dry tone, decided, "Guess I’ll sleep standing up."
Of course, vayu could handle the rest. He was a massive snake after all—what’s the point of having that much body if he couldn’t put it to use? Cutie, anwhile, casually shifted into his rabbit form, snuggled into a soft patch of grass, and acted like the day’s work had taken every ounce of his energy.
Vayu transford next, this ti into his larger snake form—so big he looked like an anaconda straight out of a jungle tale. He coiled himself around the baskets and supplies, effectively becoming both guard and blanket. That was his version of pitching a tent.
Dinner was simple: so wild fruits, dried at—well, actually dried fish—and silence. Even the sparrow seed too tired to chirp. Cutie munched, the sparrow pecked, and everyone eventually drifted off to sleep.
Except Kaya.
She wasn’t too keen on curling up on a snake’s body. Instead, she climbed a nearby tree and found a thick branch to settle on. It wasn’t comfortable, but it gave her a sense of peace—distance from everything below.
Sleep didn’t co easily tonight.
She sat with her back against the trunk, one hand resting on her knee, and watched the full moon rise. It hung low in the sky, round and glowing, casting silver light across the forest floor. Leaves glimred faintly, shadows danced, and for a while, the world felt still. Quiet.
Beautiful, but strangely distant.
Kaya just watched, her eyes half-lidded behind that white cloth.
Rustle rustle
A faint rustling broke the silence.
Kaya’s eyes snapped open.
For a mont, she didn’t move—just listened. The sound was subtle, like leaves brushing against one another, almost gentle... but not quite natural.
Slowly, without rushing, she reached behind her head and untied the white cloth. Her fingers moved carefully, unwrapping it like she had done a thousand tis before. As the fabric slipped down, catching briefly on her cheek before falling into her lap, she blinked against the night.
Then she looked up—and saw it.
About five or six trees away, high up in the branches of a thick-leafed tree, partially hidden in the dense foliage, was a figure.
A vulture.
Perched silently, staring down at them with that eerie, unmoving gaze. Its feathers blended into the darkness, but the glint in its eyes cut straight through the night.
Kaya’s face shifted instantly—calm fading into quiet seriousness. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her shoulders stiffened.
She had been noticing them for days now.
Everywhere she went, they were there.
When she left the village.
When she reached the ocean.
Even then, they hovered—just beyond reach, lingering along the seashore, never daring to dip into the waves but always watching.
And now, once again, one of them had found her.
Her jaw tightened.
She couldn’t forget that man—the one who had turned from a vulture into a human. The one who said his na was veer, or sothing like that. The mory of his smirk, of the way he looked at her like he knew sothing she didn’t, crawled under her skin.
Why was he following her? What did he want?
She didn’t have answers. Only that wherever she went, these birds followed.
And then... she noticed sothing else.
Sothing she had brushed off all this ti.
Ever since she ca out of the sea... and ever since she started tying that cloth around her eyes... sothing had changed.
Her night vision.
It had beco sharper. Not just better—but unnaturally so.
In the daylight, the cloth made it hard for her to see the finer details—pebbles on the ground, the edge of a root, the soft flicker of a crawling insect. It dulled her vision, blurred the world, made her squint at small things and sotis miss them entirely.
But at night?
It was different.
Even with just a sliver of moonlight peeking through the branches, if she removed the cloth for even a mont, the world opened up.
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