Kaya’s eyelid twitched. Just slightly. Her head tilted toward him, her expression caught sowhere between disbelief and a smile that was too polite to be real.
"Yes?" she asked, her voice sugar-laced with warning.
Veer nodded, proud like a man who had just uttered the most romantic sentence in human history.
"I know you haven’t bathed for two days," he said solemnly, like he was confessing a grand truth to the stars. "But it’s okay. There’s no need to feel embarrassed."
The man looked so damn pleased with himself. Chest slightly puffed, chin raised, like he had just won a lifelong battle against every woman’s pride across the universe.
And believe it—Kaya had never, ever felt such a strong urge to push soone into an icy river as she did now.
Had Veer not been her only ans of travel through this godforsaken snow-covered land, she would’ve tossed him into the water without a second thought. Headfirst. With a smile.
And also—yes, hygiene was important. But she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to dive into freezing water just to prove a point. Nor was she idiotic enough to try lighting a fire in this damp hell. Even if she did try, she had a feeling it would take her approximately a thousand years and the blood of ten dragons to get even a spark.
So instead, Kaya exhaled slowly through her nose, clutched her cloak tighter, and reminded herself that murder, even of the well-aning kind, had consequences.
Cough. Cough. Cough.
The sound echoed softly against the snow-covered silence.
The cold had returned—again—and Kaya’s body, despite all her stubborn endurance, was losing the battle. Her cough rattled deep in her chest, dry and raw. No, it wasn’t her fault. She was human—just human. It didn’t matter how many herbs she took, how many concoctions she brewed. She wasn’t so indestructible warrior or beast. Her bones ached like anyone else’s, her lungs burned when the chill got too deep, and her skin turned pale when the fever teased her.
If not for that magical herb she had found earlier, she knew—she wouldn’t even be standing right now. That bitter little miracle was the only thread keeping her upright.
Veer, who had silently watched her wince through another coughing fit, glanced around and spotted a cave nearby. He quickly guided her towards it, one hand behind her back, the other tightly gripping the sack of supplies.
At first glance, it seed decent. Shelter. But the mont Kaya stepped inside, her face twisted.
"...Oh, great," she muttered under her breath.
This was, hands down, the coldest damn cave she’d ever stepped into.
The wind rushed through the broken walls like it owned the place—howling and dancing as it curled inside with no rcy. One side of the cave had a gaping crack, almost like it had been clawed open. Through it, snowflakes drifted in lazily, carried by a breeze sharp enough to slice through skin.
And to make it worse—the cave was small. Tight. Cramped. The mouth of it was so wide that no matter where she sat, the cold air would find her, crawling under her skin like invisible snakes. Kaya wrapped her arms around herself tighter.
She hated this place already.
Still, she said nothing. She didn’t want Veer worrying more than he already was.
Veer returned a mont later, arms full of firewood. His face was tight, unreadable. Clearly, he had hoped to find sothing better. But in this snow-covered wilderness, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He tried to light a fire, but the wood was soaked. Of course it was. The snow had kissed everything damp and dead. They tried again and again, huddled near the small pile, but instead of flas, smoke curled up like a ghost, dancing around their faces and stinging their eyes.
Kaya coughed again, eyes watering.
Finally, after what felt like a lifeti of smoky failure, a weak fla caught. It flickered pathetically, struggling to stay alive—but it was fire.
It was hope.
Kaya exhaled, slumping slightly.
Veer added the driest wood pieces carefully, blowing gently until the fire grew just enough to boil water.
They didn’t have much—so dried fish Kaya had made herself, carefully preserved and wrapped with cloth. She offered it to Veer, but he shook his head, pulling out so leftover animal at he had hunted.
They sat in silence, knees close to the fire, steam rising slowly from the boiling pot.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, soft but relentless.
Inside, the cave whispered of cold and weakness, but the flickering fire cast soft shadows on the walls, wrapping them both in a fragile, fading warmth.
Kaya coughed again, but this ti she leaned on Veer’s shoulder.
"...I miss my old place," she muttered with a tired chuckle, her voice hoarse. "So much firewood... and no damn holes in the walls."
Hearing that, Veer glanced down at his shoulder with a playful smirk and said in a cheeky tone, "Oh, is that so? But isn’t it you who wants to leave?"
Kaya gave a soft, raspy cough, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper as she muttered, "Shut up..." She didn’t even open her eyes, just leaned fully into his arm—her weight warm, fragile, and sohow comforting.
Veer blinked, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. Without a word, he slowly unfurled his wings and then bent them gently, curling them around Kaya’s body like a protective cocoon. The leathery stretch of his wing draped over her like a shield against the cold night air. With a careful hand, he brushed her ssy hair off her forehead, his fingers tender despite the callouses.
His gaze dropped to the woman resting in his arms—small, feverish, clearly in pain. So delicate. So unlike the storm she usually was. A woman who barked orders, marched ahead like a queen, and argued like a general in battle. And yet here she was, trembling, hiding her weakness in the crook of his arm, trusting him to be her wall.
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