Veer tried to turn his head just enough to give Cutie a vicious side‑eye.
In vulture form his neck moved in that slow, snakelike way—beak angling back, one dark eye narrowing, feathers around it ruffling like he was about to demand, ’What the hell was that, rabbit’.
Kaya felt his body start to twist under her and slapped the back of his neck with her bandaged hand.
"Shut up and fly straight," she said, voice flat.
He let out an offended croak and faced forward again, wings giving one irritated snap that made her bounce in the saddle of his back. Behind her, Cutie’s fingers tightened a little on her waist, then loosened when the movent smoothed out.
Kaya threw a glare back over her shoulder.
Cutie, who a second ago had that tiny spark in his eyes, dropped his gaze at once. His head dipped, shoulders rounding in, mouth going back to its usual soft, harmless line. Like a kid caught writing on the wall and pretending he’d just been standing nearby.
She didn’t fully buy it.
What the hell was today, anyway? This Cutie who mostly stayed quiet, who usually only talked to patch people up or calm them down, suddenly poking at Veer with sugar‑coated words and "accidental" kicks. Her world was already sideways; now her rabbit was developing teeth on top of it.
She sucked in a breath to snap at both of them again, then felt Veer’s chest shift under her and her brain... tripped.
Wait.
Veer was in full vulture form.
The first ti she’d co here, when he’d flown her to wolf territory, his sounds had been nothing but harsh croaks and clicks to her. Weird bird noise. She’d had to read his body, not his words. She rembered that clearly—her clinging to his back, him flapping like an idiot, both of them yelling in languages the other couldn’t understand.
But just now—just minutes ago—when he’d snapped about them cuddling, she’d heard it clear in her head. Words. Complaints. Insults. No translation spell. No helpful subtitles.
Her brows pulled together.
She shifted her grip on his feathers, leaned forward a little.
"Hey," she called over the wind. "Veer."
He answered with a grumpy rumble from his throat, which she... understood as ’What now’.
That made it worse.
"Are you speaking in human words right now?" she asked.
For half a heartbeat, his whole body went still under her. The air dragged at his wings; he flapped once, hard, fixing his line.
He didn’t look back. Didn’t answer. Didn’t make any more of those half‑ford syllables that had sounded a lot like actual language a mont before. Just the basic vulture rasp now, nothing else.
Behind her, Cutie’s fingers twitched on her waist, like he’d heard the shift too.
Kaya pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand.
"Right," she muttered. "Who the hell am I even asking."
From what she knew—what she’d watched herself—when Veer was in this full bird form, he couldn’t speak like a human. If he could have, he would’ve done it earlier. On that first awful flight. On any of the runs where she’d been half‑hanging off him and yelling questions.
It ant he hadn’t changed.
She had.
Sowhere between then and now, she’d started hearing the sense inside the noise. The croaks had turned into words in her head without anyone telling her when it happened. That didn’t make sense. You didn’t just "pick up" vulture language mid‑air.
A cold, crawling thought ran down her spine.
’Could it be because I’ve been here longer?’
Her body already felt wrong. Stronger in so places. Wilder in others. Eyes that saw too well in the dark. Blood that lted stone if she dread too deep. Burnt handprints where skin should’ve just bruised. Maybe this was one more line on the list—her brain quietly rewiring itself to fit the beasts around her.
Yeah. That could be it. Stay long enough in a place, you adapt. Even if the "adapting" ca with burning sensations and gods in your veins.
But then...
That didn’t explain the dreams.
Her jaw clenched. The nightmare in the corridor, the elders on the balcony, the light trying to tear its way out of her chest—it hadn’t felt like regular brain trash. It had felt like soone else pressing against the inside of her skull, testing.
Kaya scowled at the horizon.
"What the hell is going on," she muttered under her breath.
The wind didn’t answer. Veer just grumbled in vulture, and now her head supplied aning whether she wanted it or not: sothing rude about "backseat drivers."
Her irritation flared hotter. Her thoughts scattered.
And then a different mory slamd into her, hot enough that her cheeks went warm even with the cold air against them.
When she’d been away from Cutie. When she’d gone to the wolf tribe.
She... hadn’t dread there.
Not once.
Her nights had been full, but not with sleep. There hadn’t been space for nightmares when her body had been busy with other things. Heat flushed all the way to her ears at the images that flickered—hands, teeth, the press of a different kind of wild against her. No balcony elders. No god‑voice. Just sweat and a different kind of losing control.
"Great," she hissed. "Perfect ti to rember that."
Veer shifted under her, thrown off by the weird scrape in her tone.
Annoyance spiked. Bla had to land sowhere.
She leaned forward and, without thinking twice, bent down and dragged the flat of her tongue along one of the thick neck feathers in front of her.
It tasted like dust and wind and bird.
SCREECH.
Veer let out a noise that could have shattered glass if there’d been any nearby. His whole body jerked. His wings flared wide in pure outrage, nearly unseating both of them. Kaya dug her knees in hard and caught extra feathers with her hand. Behind her, Cutie’s arms clamped around her waist, pulling her back so she wouldn’t fly off.
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