Kaya’s eyes widened a little as she felt him lead her steps toward the cows. Her feet paused just near them, uncertain. She glanced at the calm animals, then at Vayu’s hand holding hers.
With a tiny flustered huff, she gently pulled her hand back and mumbled,
"Um... no, it’s okay. They... they already look healthy enough."
Hearing Kaya’s hesitant response, Vayu clicked his tongue softly and shook his head with an exaggerated sigh.
"Aiya... how can you say that?" he said, still holding her wrist.
"Let’s look at them closely. Only then can we really tell if these animals are good enough."
His voice was casual, teasing even, but there was a certain coaxing gentleness hidden behind the words.
Kaya blinked, her body subtly tense. Her eyes shifted—slowly, carefully—towards the cows. And there, she saw it. The thick, curved horns. Big. Too big. Her breath hitched slightly as her steps faltered again.
She wasn’t moving.
From a short distance, Abaya watched the scene unfold, head tilted with mild confusion. Kaya’s stiff posture, her darting eyes, and frozen feet made her pause.
In her eyes, Kaya wasn’t scared—no, she must’ve been suspicious. Maybe she had doubts about the cows’ quality. That must be it.
So, with a helpful nod, Abaya chid in,
"Yes, Kaya. He’s right. Only by touching and looking closely can you tell if they’re truly healthy or not."
Kaya turned her head toward Abaya, lips parting in disbelief for a second, but no words ca out.
Vayu looked at Kaya and nodded with an easy smile, "Yeah, really, let’s go." His hand gently tugged at her wrist as he stepped forward.
But Kaya didn’t budge.
Instead, she turned her head slowly toward him, her gaze sharp as a blade. Then, in a voice so low and cold it could’ve frozen sunlight, she murmured just for his ears,
"If you don’t want to be killed by , you damn snake... let go."
The words weren’t loud. But they coiled around his spine like frost.
Vayu froze.
His smile faltered—then disappeared completely.
Without a word, he let go of her wrist. His movents turned deliberate, almost graceful in retreat, as he walked back and quietly stood beside Cutie like nothing had happened. His expression was unreadable, but sothing in his eyes—just for a flicker—spoke of startled respect.
Abaya blinked, utterly dumbfounded.
She looked between the two, trying to read the sudden drop in tension. Her brows furrowed.
What the hell just happened?
Why did he back away like that? Why does Kaya’s voice seem to echo even though it wasn’t loud?
Kaya, sensing the confusion, turned to her with an effortless smile—gentle, almost sweet.
"Oh, it’s okay," she said, brushing her skirt down lightly and stepping closer to the cows. "We believe you. After all..." her smile deepened, laced with sothing unspoken, "we know you wouldn’t betray or cheat us."
Not like soone else.
Abaya blinked again, but this ti, a small, pleased smile tugged at her lips. "Of course," she replied, her voice holding a thread of pride. She genuinely didn’t know Kaya held her in such regard.
But what she didn’t know—what she couldn’t know—was that it wasn’t trust that made Kaya say those words.
It was fear.
A quiet, coiled fear that outweighed even her distrust.
Kaya slowly turned her head sideways, her gaze locking on Vayu. There was no need for words—her eyes alone, sharp as icy daggers, carried enough weight to make a grown man flinch. It was the kind of look that said, "One more word, and I’ll skin you alive."
Vayu, who just a mont ago had been confidently speaking, felt a chill crawl down his spine. He dared a glance at her and instantly regretted it. Her glare was so fierce, so nacing, it was as if she were actually contemplating roasting him over a fire for dinner. His throat bobbed. He stiffly turned his head away like a child caught red-handed, suddenly finding the trees in the distance extrely fascinating.
Cutie and the others exchanged helpless looks, nearly groaning aloud.
’Why... why does he always do this? Why must he throw himself into the tiger’s jaws like this?’ their expressions silently scread.
Abaya, who had missed the full build-up of the tension, blinked in confusion. She couldn’t make heads or tails of what just happened. But sensing the sudden silence, she tactfully didn’t ask.
Once the animals were delivered and the brief inspection concluded, Abaya offered cheerfully, "We can help cut and prepare everything—"
But Kaya, without so much as glancing back, raised her hand gently, halting the offer mid-air. "That won’t be necessary."
Her voice was calm but distant, carrying a layer of quiet finality that left no room for discussion.
Abaya and the others nodded politely, though their gazes lingered curiously on Kaya, who had now crouched beside one of the animals, gently brushing her fingers along its fur.
After checking the animals—counting hooves, checking hides, and making sure no one tried to sneak in a sick or wounded one—Kaya gave a firm nod. "Fifteen kilos of salt," she declared, her voice calm but final.
Abaya’s eyes lit up, a genuine relief washing over her features. She smiled and nodded quickly, gratitude flickering across her face. "That’ll help us through," she said, almost like a whisper more to herself than Kaya.
Kaya didn’t respond with words. She simply gave a small glance—enough to show acknowledgnt but not enough to invite chatter. Abaya understood the cue. She didn’t linger for formality’s sake. Winter was sharpening its claws, and they needed to prepare on their end too. So, with a few quick words to her companions, she turned and left—just as swiftly as they had arrived.
The mont their silhouettes disappeared over the hill’s curve, Kaya’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly. She looked at the massive haul of animals standing or tied in formation. A daunting sight, even for soone like her.
"Thank god Nikala’s beastn were faster," she muttered under her breath.
While she had spoken with Abaya, the others—quick-handed and tireless—had already built a makeshift pen using long, sturdy wooden sticks.
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