Veer tilted his head, lips twitching. "Too bad. I’ve decided to stay. Soone has to keep you entertained, and clearly, you’re bored."
Kaya rolled her eyes hard. "Entertained? Please. Talking to you feels like losing brain cells one sentence at a ti."
Veer let out a dramatic sigh. "Then I must be doing a great job. You seem dumber every ti we talk."
Kaya paused, blinked, then slowly picked up a small stick beside her on the branch.
"Try ," she said flatly, gripping it.
Veer floated backward, hands up in surrender, laughing. "Okay, okay! Don’t poke the tiger-cat, got it."
Kaya muttered under her breath, "Idiot."
He bead. "Love you too."
As the quarrel went on, full of sarcasm and sharp jabs, a sudden sound cut through the air.
Tch...
Veer stopped mid-sentence. His smile faltered as he turned his head slightly, his expression shifting.
Kaya caught the change and followed his gaze down to the ground.
Vayu.
He was walking toward them quietly, face unreadable as always. But the air around him—calm, steady—suddenly felt colder.
Kaya looked between the two. Veer, the winged storm with fire in his voice, and Vayu, the quiet shadow with a stare that cut deeper than words. She had heard it before—vultures and snakes were said to be mortal enemies.
Now she believed it.
Vayu stopped near the base of the tree and looked up, voice soft but firm. "Co down."
Kaya hesitated only for a second before nodding. She climbed down without a word, landing lightly in front of him.
As she brushed off her hands, Vayu stepped forward, handing her a bundle wrapped in big, folded tree leaves.
He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
"Here."
Kaya glanced at the bundle, frowning slightly. "What is it?"
Vayu’s voice remained even. Detached, but not cold. There was a quiet softness in the way he said it, almost reluctant.
"That rabbit made sothing for everyone to eat. You weren’t there... so I was the one in charge of bringing it to you."
Kaya’s mouth tugged into a small, flat line.
She really didn’t want to eat berries.
She didn’t even have to open the packet to guess—Cutie probably packed wild berries again. For so reason, that little thing was obsessed with them. At first, Kaya assud it was just out of necessity—berries being the only thing he could find. But no... she’d seen it too many tis now.
He just loved them. Like, genuinely.
Still, food was food.
Kaya let out a quiet breath and opened the bundle. And yep—wild berries. Right there, bright and smug-looking, like they knew she hated them.
But then, just beside them, was a surprise—thin strips of dried fish. The ones she had made earlier.
Her expression eased slightly. At least she wouldn’t go to bed hungry tonight.
But just as she reached in, ready to take a bite—
Snatch.
The packet was suddenly gone.
Kaya stared at her now-empty hands, blinking slowly.
She turned her head.
Veer stood there, casually holding the bundle like he owned it. He looked down at it, unimpressed, then up at Vayu.
"Oh, don’t tell ," he said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes, "you couldn’t even pack proper at, you damn snake?"
Vayu didn’t react right away.
He simply stood there, his gaze fixed on Veer—not angry, not flinching, just steady. Like a snake watching its prey... waiting for it to move wrong.
"I wasn’t aware," Vayu said in a calm, low voice, "that sharing food ant permission to act like a starving crow."
The insult landed quiet and clean.
Veer’s grin twitched. He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Snake’s got a tongue after all."
"I speak when necessary," Vayu replied, his tone still even, "which is why I don’t waste breath on flies buzzing around garbage."
Kaya blinked slowly.
Okay... wow.
The tension between them felt thick enough to cut. And yet, neither raised their voice, nor moved. It was all in their eyes, their words—quiet, sharp, deliberate.
Veer clicked his tongue, then looked down at the packet in his hand. He waved it lightly.
"Well, maybe the ’garbage’ slls better than whatever you’re serving."
Vayu stepped forward, only slightly, but it felt like a shift in pressure. "Then return it. If your pride needs feeding more than your stomach, you’re welco to chew on that."
Kaya, caught in the middle, stared at both of them.
"...Are you two seriously fighting over my food?" she finally asked, deadpan.
Neither answered.
She reached forward, grabbed the packet out of Veer’s hand, and muttered, "Idiots."
Then turned around and started walking.
Kaya quietly walked back to the tree she had climbed earlier. She sat down beneath it, leaning against the rough bark with a tired breath.
Finally, so peace.
She unwrapped the food and picked out a piece of dried fish. It was salty—maybe a bit too much—but warm in her hands and oddly comforting. She chewed slowly, eyes half-lidded, letting the silence settle around her.
But it didn’t last.
Soft footsteps crunched the grass beside her, and a shadow fell across her side.
She didn’t even have to look.
Veer.
Without saying a word, he plopped down beside her like he’d been invited. His wings folded neatly behind him as he leaned a little too close.
"Hey," he said, voice dipping into a pitiful tone, "give so too."
Kaya turned her head and stared at him, unamused.
"Didn’t you just insult this food?" she said flatly. "Called it garbage, rember? So why are you asking for a bite?"
Veer looked at her, totally unbothered, and shrugged. "Well, yeah. It is garbage."
Then he gave her that stupid grin again.
"But what can I do if my sweetheart eats it? If you’re eating garbage, then I guess... I should too."
He leaned in dramatically, whispering, "True love ans sharing everything. Even bad food."
Kaya stared at him for a long second, then slowly held out a tiny, dry piece—just the smallest strip—and dropped it on his lap without a word.
Veer blinked, looked down, and then looked at her again. "This? Seriously?"
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