"Crazy, huh?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl. "Who the hell did you just call crazy, you feathered rat?"
The sparrow yelped, stumbling backward, wings half-flaring as though he could take flight at any second. "W-Wait, I didn’t an—!"
Veer lunged forward, fury etched into every line of his face.
And then—
"Enough."
Kaya’s single word cut through the clearing like a blade, sharp and absolute.
Veer froze mid-stride. Even the sparrow, panting and wide-eyed, stopped trembling for a heartbeat.
When Kaya spoke again, her voice was calm, asured—but the weight in it made both n still as stone.
"Not one more step, Veer."
Her hand lifted slightly, her gaze never leaving the sparrow. "He talks first. Then you can break him."
The sparrow nearly collapsed on the spot.
Kaya slowly bent down to look at him. "So... you an you asked the birds around here for my information, right?"
The sparrow nodded nervously. "Not only birds, but small animals too."
Kaya frowned, crossing her arms. "Okay... so answer this—can other beastn do the sa? Talk to animals and find out where soone is?"
The sparrow blinked, thinking for a mont before nodding. "Well... mostly. You see, we beastn are connected to animals and other beings—but it doesn’t an everyone listens. There are far more beastn than animals, so not all of us can communicate with them. I’m from the bird tribe, so I can speak to birds and understand their language. Other beastn exist, of course, but not all of them can understand other beings."
He hesitated, glancing at Veer. "For example, Veer is also from the bird tribe, but he can’t understand bird languages. So it depends on the individual’s skill."
Kaya tilted her head, thinking for a second. "Like... sign language, right?"
The sparrow looked at Veer, then nodded slowly. "Sign..."
Kaya shook her head. "No, it’s nothing like that." And then she understood. Talking to birds and other creatures was like speaking a foreign language. These beastn were bilingual—one language for their own kind, and another for the creatures they could communicate with.
"So... if soone belongs to a different tribe," Kaya continued, "like a predator tribe... can they understand the languages of other predators?"
The sparrow paused, thinking carefully, then nodded. "Yes. For example, a wolf tribe mber can understand the words of Bhediya, Lomari, and other predator tribes."
Kaya’s eyes narrowed. "Do you guys normally use this ability?"
The sparrow shook his head. "No. It’s been a long ti since people used these languages, and most have forgotten them. Usually, predators just sense the vibe of another predator and understand. I... learned from my mother that I should know other languages. I mostly speak to birds, so that’s how I know theirs."
Even though his explanation was incomplete, the way he looked downward, almost ashad, spoke volus. Kaya paused, studying him closely.
Kaya stood up and rubbed her forehead, a frown forming. She had always scored the highest in alertness, priding herself on noticing the smallest detail—but now... now she realized just how vulnerable she truly was.
Even a simple bird could track her, and she hadn’t known. No gadgets, no trackers, no modern devices—just creatures of the forest, watching, listening, and reporting. The thought made her stomach tighten.
What if soone with ill intent wanted to find ? Could they do it?
The sparrow had told her that not every beastman could speak to other creatures—but even so, imagining that there were many like him, beings capable of gathering information in ways she could never anticipate, sent a shiver down her spine.
She could deactivate a tracker. She could break one. Jam its signals. Even eliminate soone tailing her. But how could she escape the watchful eyes of countless small and large animals, silently observing from every branch, every tree, every shadow of the forest?
And worse... they could pass on what they saw. Any one of them could alert others.
It was impossible to kill or silence every creature she might encounter. The idea was not only illogical—it was inconceivable.
Kaya’s mind raced, the usually calm strategist now confronting a chilling truth: the forest itself could see her, and she had never realized just how many eyes were watching.
Kaya and Veer resud their walk, but Kaya was unusually quiet. Not just quiet—she wasn’t speaking at all. Her steps were brisk, almost impatient, and her eyes darted across the forest as if trying to morize every detail.
When they finally reached the open area, Veer grabbed her waist and lifted them into the air. Kaya still didn’t speak. Her gaze swept the horizon, sharp and calculating. Veer glanced at her, worry flickering across his face.
The sparrow flitted beside them in bird form, wings beating rapidly. Suddenly, Kaya’s voice cut through the wind.
"Why are you always flying like that? Bird form? Can’t you fly like Veer?"
The sparrow chirped furiously—chirp, chirp, chirp!
Kaya slamd a hand to her forehead. "Damn it! Can’t you speak human language even in that form?" She shook her head, exasperated.
Veer, hovering beside her, smiled faintly. "Actually... in our beast forms, we conserve energy. It’s less tiring."
Kaya turned to him sharply. "Then why do you always fly in human form?"
Veer paused, eting her eyes with a small, almost mischievous smile—and said nothing.
Kaya’s annoyance deepened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she turned to scan the forest below. Veer watched her, shaking his head subtly. How could he explain to this small, fierce woman that the last ti she had seen him in his bird form, the fear in her eyes had nearly shattered him? That mont had left such a mark on her psyche that he’d vowed never to show it again unless absolutely necessary.
Not out of laziness. Not out of arrogance. But out of care.
And so, even as they soared together, Veer stayed in his human form, but its made him too tired and last ti he transford into his bird form was because he did not want kaya to see his face.
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