Until the elder stepped forward.
He looked at Kaya silently, then raised a hand—
And gently touched her head.
The next mont—
He spat.
Right there, onto the ground near her feet.
Kaya didn’t flinch.
Because she understood what it ant.
It wasn’t disgust.
It was a test.
A tribal tradition perhaps, to taste sincerity from submission. Or maybe just his own strange ritual.
But he had seen her.
Really seen her.
And now, she had passed.
Kaya said nothing.
She didn’t rise or defend her pride.
Because this wasn’t about pride.
It was about survival.
And as she stood there, the cool breeze ruffled her hair.
Hearing her previous words, all three—Sparrow, Cutie, and Vayu—stood completely still.
For a mont, just a brief mont, they were stunned.
Not because they believed her.
But because the way she spoke—the crack in her voice, the way her eyes shimred—it almost looked real. For a heartbeat, they saw vulnerability.
And then it disappeared.
Just like that, their expressions hardened.
The sa thought passed through their minds at the sa ti, as if spoken aloud—
"This woman... is a damn liar."
They had lived with Kaya long enough to know better. Not years—just days—but even that was enough to understand one thing:
Kaya was not the type to suffer in silence.
She was not soone who broke easily.
And definitely not soone who’d be left behind without setting sothing on fire first.
Her stories? They kept changing.
First, she said her husband and sister betrayed her.
Then, her husband was dead.
Now suddenly, her sister attacked her and abandoned her in the forest?
Every ti, she made herself sound like the victim. The poor, broken woman who just wanted peace.
But nothing about Kaya said "victim."
If she ca out and said she killed them both with her own hands—cold, calculated—they might believe that. At least it would make sense. At least it would sound like her.
But this sob story?
This trembling, wide-eyed version of Kaya?
No.
Not even close.
Vayu scoffed under his breath. Sparrow looked away, disgusted
Even though none of them believed a single word she said, the mont their eyes shifted to the old man—his gaze soft, tear-filled, and utterly moved—they knew it.
This dumb, sweet-hearted sheep had fallen for the devil’s words.
And just like that, it happened.
The old man gave a slow, solemn nod, his voice thick with emotion.
"You’ve suffered so much, child."
A mont of silence followed.
Then—
Kaya’s head remained bowed, her shoulders trembling just slightly. But not from grief.
It was the smirk.
A cold, satisfied curl of her lips that blood like poison in shadow.
Hidden from the old man’s view—safe beneath her lowered face.
But not from those standing beside her.
Sparrow saw it first. The corner of her mouth twitching.
Snake caught it next, narrowing his eyes.
Even Cutie—sweet, quiet Cutie—stiffened just slightly.
Because they weren’t standing in front of a broken woman.
They were standing next to sothing far more dangerous.
A wolf in soft-spoken sheep’s clothing.
And Sparrow didn’t even bother hiding his thoughts anymore.
....
’She’s a devil,’ he muttered under his breath. ’A damn smiling devil.’
And yet, the old man stood there still, nodding slowly, as if he’d found a soul worth saving.
They didn’t say a word.
Not yet
But instead, the old man turned his gaze toward the snake.
"And what about this one, child?" he asked, a thread of warmth weaving unexpectedly through his voice.
Kaya’s smile twitched. A small, imperceptible falter.
She followed his gaze, and for a fleeting second, seriously considered reaching over and choking the snake.
Why the hell did he have to follow her here?
Of all the places, of all the tis—now? With him watching?
She couldn’t exactly say the snake used to be her ergency al. Or that one day he’d just decided to grow legs, shift into human form, and tag along like a lost dog with trust issues. And she definitely couldn’t admit that Mr. Rabbit had requested—no, insisted—that the damn creature stay close.
So she forced down the sigh itching in her chest, smoothed the edge of her tone, and shaped her lips into a controlled, almost careless smile.
Sharp. Subtle. asured.
"These are the ones who saved ," Kaya said, voice steady, almost soft. "The ones who stayed when no one else did. And now..."—a breath, barely a pause—"they’re my closest partners."
---
At that mont, Kaya had no idea that a single word—partner—would bind these three beings to her for life. Thanks to the elder’s quiet approval, Kaya and the others were allowed to stay the night. They would talk through everything else tomorrow.
Hearing this, Kaya felt a flicker of relief.
Now, sitting inside the small hut, exhaustion settled deep in her bones. She leaned against the thin wall, while the others gathered in a corner. Her eyes didn’t waver—they were fixed on them, sharp and unyielding.
Like the one saying you are done for.
She first turned toward Cutie and spoke, voice edged with challenge.
"So, you don’t know the way, yet you still insist we follow you?"
Cutie lowered his head, quiet.
"I’m not used to leaving the tribe much," he admitted softly.
Kaya’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile.
"Ah, is that so?"
Then her gaze shifted to Vayu.
"And you... what on earth made you follow into a tribe full of herbivores? You’re a carnivore, aren’t you? Couldn’t you have at least given so kind of warning signal—so they’d know you’re a snake?"
Hearing that, Vayu simply looked at her and answered flatly, "Well, they’re sheep. And there were three of them. Of course they sensed the predator. Isn’t that common sense?"
The already simring anger inside Kaya flared—burning, uncontainable, rising to its peak.
She stared at him for a long beat, then smiled—slow, sharp.
"Ah... is that so?"
She stood, steps deliberate as she moved toward him, and raised her hand.
User Comments
0 comments from readers