The ground beneath her bare feet was cold, just as always—but this hide? It was warm. Not hot. Just... naturally warm. The kind of warmth that feels like soone turned on underfloor heating. Comfortable. Calming.
She stood still for a mont, processing the strange sensation. It wasn’t normal. This wasn’t just hide. Sothing about it felt off.
And then, as she spread it more across the room, her mouth parted slightly in shock.
It fit her room perfectly. Exactly to the corners. Not a thread too long or short. Like soone had asured her floorboards, counted every inch and then cut this thing precisely to match.
Her heart skipped.
Who was he?
This man—or... creature. This mystery of a being.
His clothes didn’t match this world. The way he talked—smooth and strange, like the words weren’t ant for the air of this place. "Sweetheart." "Darling." Every ti she heard them from his lips, it stirred sothing oddly familiar in her, echoing from a mory that didn’t belong to this world.
No one here talked like that.
No one here called anyone sweetheart.
Could it be...?
Was he also from another world?
A world traveler? Like her?
But then—how could he be a bird? A vulture? She was a human, even if she transford, she was still human at the core. But him? He wasn’t pretending. That wasn’t a mask. He was a bird.
So how could a human beco a vulture?
None of it made sense.
And yet, sohow, it made her even more curious—about him.
.
.
In evening....
As the evening fell and the sky dimd into deeper shades of violet and rust, the soft hum of warmth and laughter settled over the camp. Everyone had already eaten—als had been distributed long before dusk—but no one was in a hurry to part ways. They lingered under the faint twilight, a quiet understanding binding them. In just a few days, most of them would go into hibernation.
They were not fully human, after all—half-beast, half-sothing-else—and winter didn’t wait for anyone. Kaya had started to notice how sleep clung to their eyes longer these days, how their shoulders slumped just a little more. Their gazes drifted off mid-conversation, pulled by dreams only they could see.
Even Cutie, whose energy could rival the sun itself, was nodding off with his chin tucked to his chest, startling awake every few minutes only to give an indignant sniff. Kaya sat with her legs folded beside a low-burning fire, watching them all with the sa amused suspicion she always wore when things were just a little too peaceful. But even she had to admit—they were smart. Surprisingly so.
In each house, they had quietly ford little teams of four: one who stayed awake—the one whose beast form resisted hibernation—and the other three, selected carefully, would sleep through the cold weeks. Logical. Efficient. Beastly, but brilliant.
Vayu, for instance, had been eating with impressive focus for the past hour. His bowl was clutched tightly in one hand, half-empty but still hugged to his chest like a precious relic. He was still seated near the fire, but Kaya’s gaze narrowed as she noticed the unmistakable shimr of scales. His legs had fused into a long, coiled tail that lazily thudded against the floor every so often, in rhythm with his slow breathing. He didn’t even seem to notice. His upper body swayed slightly, head tipping from side to side in a drowsy rhythm. Kaya raised a brow.
She had heard sowhere—maybe from an old book, or perhaps from her teacher’s endless mumbling—that snakes, once fed, preferred to sleep through the cold. And now, she was watching it unfold right in front of her.
It was mildly disturbing.
Especially when the person falling asleep mid-bite had half a snake’s body and didn’t seem to find anything wrong with it.
Still, she didn’t say anything. She just wrapped her own arms around her knees and leaned her chin forward, quietly watching them.
The fire crackled softly. The air slled of dry grass, leftover stew, and winter’s quiet promise.
And sowhere to the side, Cutie stirred again with a jolt, glanced over at kaya.
After eating, Kaya went on a walk—and of course, the sparrow followed her.
"Chirp. Chirp. Chirpchirpchirp."
Hah, so tiring...
His endless chirping echoed around her, sounding more like a toddler throwing a tantrum than a bird stretching its wings. Kaya gritted her teeth, her temples twitching with every high-pitched note.
She rubbed her forehead, sighing sharply, "Transform into your human form. Now."
Obediently—or perhaps out of habit—the sparrow flitted down, landing clumsily near her boots. A light shimr crossed his feathers before his form elongated into a human. Sa ssy hair, sa loose shirt hanging off his shoulders, sa carefree grin.
Sa idiot.
Kaya folded her arms and looked him up and down before speaking flatly, "So... how’s it going?"
He gave a long, lazy stretch, arms above his head like he’d just woken from a nap. "Mmm... Everything’s going nice. Just a little too cold lately, don’t you think?"
Her eyelids twitched.
"I didn’t ask about the weather," she muttered with a snap of irritation. "I asked if you gathered anything useful. Anything strange happening these days? Sothing worth reporting?"
The sparrow blinked, then tilted his head like he was genuinely thinking—deeply, even. After a pause, he finally nodded and said, "Well... the sll from you has lessened. Like, a lot less. Today, you sll... really nice. Like, really nice."
Kaya blinked, confused. "What?"
He stepped a bit closer, brows furrowing as if trying to solve a puzzle. "Did you... get the antidote for that herb? The poisonous one? You know, the scent’s not bitter today. It’s actually kinda... pleasant."
Kaya blinked, the words hanging in the air awkwardly.
"What?" she asked, not quite irritated—more baffled than anything.
He leaned slightly forward, pointing vaguely.
"The bitter scent that was always clinging to you—it’s gone. Today, there’s none. Instead, you sll... well, like flowers. Soft. Not herbal, just... nice."
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