"Ugh."
Kaya’s eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was—
"Damn it."
Again.
She grabbed her forehead, letting out a groan of frustration. "This is seriously happening again?"
Dry grass.
Brown, brittle dry grass.
She blinked up at the roof, which was barely seven ters above where she lay. A roof made entirely out of dried grass and thin wooden beams.
"First a forest, and now... a hut?"
Kaya sat up slowly, dumbfounded. It was becoming a pattern—one she never signed up for. Every ti she lost consciousness, she woke up sowhere strange. Sowhere new. Always with a different scene above her head. And every ti, the confusion grew.
"Hah," she exhaled softly, brushing her ssy hair out of her face.
She tried to recall the last thing she saw before everything went dark. Images ca in flashes—shaky and dim. Then suddenly, it hit her.
"That man..." she whispered.
She rembered him—kneeling beside her, checking her feet. And then... nothing.
Her eyes darted down in alarm.
Her feet.
The swelling that had been there—painful and hot—was gone. Completely. She twisted her ankle experintally, and to her shock, there was no pain. Not even a sting.
What in the world?
And then her hands shot to her temples.
Another shock—her migraine. The one she had lived with since childhood. The one that clawed at her every ti she woke from deep sleep or blackouts. It was... gone.
No pounding. No pressure behind her eyes. Just peace.
Even her body felt different. Lighter. Her back wasn’t aching. Her shoulders weren’t stiff. She stretched out a little, testing the feeling, and blinked in disbelief.
How could this be...?
Kaya had spent years chasing relief. Hospitals, specialists, Ayurvedic treatnts, acupuncture—she’d tried them all. But nothing had ever truly worked.
And now?
Now, lying on a bed of dry grass inside a hut made entirely of wood and woven stalks, her body felt as if it had been rewound. Restored. Renewed.
She glanced around.
The hut wasn’t large—small, almost like it was built just for shelter, not living. If she rolled across the floor three tis, she’d hit the opposite wall. A few stone pots and bowls sat in one corner. No stove, no fire pit. Nothing extravagant. But enough to suggest soone had been here.
Kaya slowly got up from the bed of dry grass, her body still feeling too light, too rested, like she had just woken from a long, healing sleep. She walked toward the small door—it looked like soone had fixed it just yesterday. The wood was cut into thin strips and tied together with vines, rough but strangely fresh compared to the rest of the old, worn-down hut.
She touched it and paused. The door felt warm under her fingers, as if it hadn’t fully cooled from being worked on. That was odd.
She pulled it open, expecting to see more trees or maybe emptiness—but instead, her eyes widened.
In front of her was a whole village.
Dozens of n were moving around in the open space, so laughing loudly as they worked. They were chopping wood, building sothing with sticks, carrying baskets on their backs, or sharpening tools. The air was filled with smoke and strange slls—earth, ash, maybe cooked at.
And they all had rabbit ears.
Real ones. Furred, twitching, and moving on their heads like it was the most normal thing in the world. So were long and black, others brown or white, and a few even had stripes.
The n wore nothing on their upper bodies. Just a strip of animal hide tied around their waists—barely enough to cover half their thighs. Their legs were strong and lean, muscles shifting as they moved quickly from place to place. But they didn’t walk the way humans do. They bounced lightly on their toes, almost hopping like rabbits.
Their laughter echoed through the space, but there was sothing off about it. It was too loud, too perfect, almost like it wasn’t ant just for fun. It made her chest feel tight.
There were a few won too, but not many. They stood under trees or walked quietly, watching the n with calm expressions. Even they had rabbit ears.
Kaya stood in the doorway, frozen. A few of the n looked her way.
And then...
Silence.
A sharp, unnatural kind of silence.
The kind that creeps up your spine and makes the air feel heavier. The earlier chatter, the warmth in their voices—all gone like it never existed.
Kaya’s instincts kicked in.
Her body tensed as her eyes darted around.
She reached for her waist, fingers moving out of habit.
Gone.
Her stomach dropped.
She looked down—her blazer was missing. So was her gun. Her knife. Even the small pouch of dried at she’d hidden deep in her inner pocket.
[Here, ’at’ refers to the chirpy little feathered fool known as a sparrow, alongside the tooth-deficient snake that doubles as her backup snack!]
"Damn it," she muttered, eyes narrowing.
She took a slow step back, lifting her fists. If it ca to a fight, she’d take as many down as she could. Ten? Maybe more—if she hit fast and didn’t get surrounded.
But these... n?
They didn’t move like regular people.
Sothing in their posture, their breathing, the way they stood so still—it wasn’t normal.
Kaya’s gut twisted.
Mutants?
Beasts in human skin?
She couldn’t tell. Their faces didn’t show anger. No rage. Just... unreadable calm.
Too calm.
That made it worse.
She took another step back.
She had no weapons.
No food.
No backup.
And yet—her eyes stayed steady.
"Co on then," she whispered under her breath.
But then, their next move shocked Kaya.
Instead of the chaos or fight she had been bracing for, what happened was completely different.
"You..."
Suddenly, a man spoke up, stepping forward in a swift, smooth motion. Before Kaya could react, he grabbed her hand firmly.
"Wow... you’re awake," he said, his smile bright and almost dazzling.
Kaya tensed, ready to fight—but his speed and that confident smile caught her off guard.
User Comments
0 comments from readers