He cursed under his breath, sothing harsh in a language no one had heard him use outside of combat.
He hated this—seeing her like this. Kaya, who was usually so controlled, so composed, now reduced to this vulnerable, hurting ss.
"You’re not allowed to scare like that," he said, his tone half-joking, half-broken as he placed a light kiss on her forehead. "You know I hate witch doctors. This is worse."
He reached into his pouch, rummaging through useless trinkets he carried around for fun—stones, string, stolen berries—and finally stilled. No herbs. No painkillers. Nothing useful.
Veer looked down at her again. He’d never felt more helpless.
And yet, for once, he didn’t speak nonsense. He just stayed by her side, his hand gently cradling hers, waiting.
Protecting.
Just in case the pain got worse before it got better.
if Kaya had still been the sa woman from before, Veer would’ve rushed her straight to the witch doctor without a second thought.
But he wasn’t a fool.
He had been watching her. Not just now—but from the beginning.
He knew.
He knew Kaya had taken those rare, magical dicinal herbs. The kind that were slow, quiet, but powerful. They didn’t give instant relief—but they worked from the inside out. Healing at a pace the body allowed.
And that’s why he didn’t panic. Not yet.
Sowhere deep in his gut, he had this strange feeling.
That she would be okay.
That she would heal.
Still, that didn’t an he liked seeing her like this—curled on the hide, groaning quietly in pain, tears slipping down the sides of her face. His fingers brushed her forehead again, careful, almost reverent.
Suddenly, the hide door flapped open with a gust of air.
Cutie burst in, panting and wide-eyed. His eyes landed on Veer, then on Kaya.
"Are you done?" he snapped, voice sharp, and without waiting, he dropped down beside Kaya.
Veer gave him a side glance.
Cutie’s palm began to glow, a warm yellow light radiating from his hand as he pressed it gently to Kaya’s forehead, muttering sothing under his breath. Trying to relieve her pain. Trying to help.
Veer’s lip curled into a sneer.
"Huh. You think that’s going to do anything?" he scoffed. "She’s already taken magical dicinal herbs. If even that couldn’t dull her pain—do you really think your glowing little hand trick with 2% power will fix her?"
He stood, brushing the dust from his pants, turning toward the exit.
Cutie’s jaw clenched, his fingers trembling as they stayed on Kaya’s skin.
"What, running away now?" he snapped, voice rising. "Not in the mood to flirt anymore?"
Veer paused at the doorway. Just for a second.
Then without looking back, he muttered,
"I’m not soone like you."
A pause.
"I’m going to find a witch doctor. Because I don’t have ti to waste playing healer while she lies there in pain."
And with that, he stepped outside.
A mont later, the sound of wings filled the air—and Veer was in sky.
Suddenly, from inside the hut, a sharp, furious voice erupted.
"Shut the fuck up!"
The shout exploded like thunder.
Mid-flight, Veer flinched—and dropped.
Not gracefully. Not heroically.
He crashed, hard, onto the frozen ground with a dull thud.
Inside the hut, Cutie scrambled back from Kaya, his hand still faintly glowing, panic written across his face.
Before he could say anything, Kaya was already sitting up—eyes bloodshot, hand pressed to her temple like her skull might split open. She looked at them both with the expression of a woman who had just fought death and cramps—and still had no ti for anyone’s nonsense.
"Get lost," she snapped, voice venomous.
"What the hell, can’t anyone rest around here?"
And without ceremony, she kicked them out.
Literally.
One boot each.
Out the door they went, tumbling like tossed potatoes.
Outside, Veer and Cutie landed in a dazed pile.
They sat there on the snow-dusted ground, blinking at each other like they’d just been evicted from a dragon’s cave.
"...What just happened?" Veer muttered.
Cutie looked equally lost—until his nose twitched.
And then ca the sll.
Blood.
Faint. Warm. Earthy.
Cutie blinked. His eyes widened.
"Wait—she’s not injured," he said suddenly. "Just yesterday—she wasn’t hurt. And today she didn’t do anything heavy either..."
He froze.
Sothing clicked.
And then his entire face turned crimson.
"...Oh."
Cutie stood up fast, voice cracking as he stamred, "I—I should go. I—uh, yeah—I need to check sothing—like... not here."
And just like that, he turned and ran.
Veer stared after him, utterly baffled.
"...What the hell is wrong with that idiot?"
But then—he caught the sa scent.
And slowly—realization dawned.
His face turned red so fast, it almost matched his wings.
"Oh."
He gulped.
"...Oh."
And for once in his life...
Veer said nothing.
Hejust turn around and flew off.
In this world, a woman’s period is more than just a physical cycle—it’s an awakening of her entire being. When the ti cos, it’s not just blood that flows. Her essence shifts, as if her body rembers sothing ancient, sothing primal. Along with it, a fragrance is released—delicate, almost invisible to the senses, yet devastatingly potent.
The scent is unlike any other—neither floral nor musky, but a wild, magnetic pull that whispers to the instincts buried deep inside n. It’s not perfu. It’s not sothing she wears. It’s sothing she becos.
And for the n, especially those unprepared, it is chaos wrapped in beauty. Restlessness coils in their chests, foreign thoughts seep into their minds, and their control begins to fray. Eyes linger longer, hearts beat faster. It isn’t lust, not entirely. It’s need. A longing to be close, to protect, to surrender—all at once.
They don’t speak of it, not openly. But when she walks by, even fully clothed, heads turn. Conversations stumble. The air feels heavier, charged, like the mont before a sumr storm.
No one warned them that nature could be this... seductive. That her monthly cycle could turn her into sothing ethereal. Sacred. Dangerous.
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