He was amazed.
Astonished at how easily she dragged him out of it.
With one tug, one step, one glare… she broke the chain he hadn't even tried to shake loose.
And now, even as his legs trembled beneath him, even as fear clung to the edges of his thoughts like fog, he followed.
He didn't know where she was taking him. What lay ahead.
One thing he knew for sure—whenever he was with her, he felt... satisfied. Or at least, that's what he thought.
Thirty minutes later, they were standing in front of the same dead, leafless tree. For the fifth time.
Kaya and Cutie stared at each other.
Same look.
Same emotion.
Pure emptiness.
Kaya finally broke the silence. "Wait… you've actually lived here for years?"
Her voice carried the kind of calm that hid a very specific kind of rage.
Cutie blinked at her, totally blank.
"I thought you knew the way…"
And then, like a lightning bolt to the brain, a realization smacked Kaya right in the face.
This fool… is a complete disaster at directions.
In that moment, Kaya remembered something crucial—something she had totally overlooked until now.
She turned to him, doing her best to keep her voice calm, even though her eye was twitching.
"Mister… can you please explain how you got lost last night?"
Cutie looked at her, eyes wide and innocent as a baby duck.
"I went to collect firewood… and then I lost my way."
Kaya stared at him.
Her lips twitched.
Seriously?
This man had managed to get lost from his own tribe, which was barely 3–4 kilometers away. And all he was doing was collecting firewood… from a spot not even 100 meters inside the tribe's border!
Why—just why—didn't she think to ask this earlier?
She groaned internally.
What kind of fool am I… for trusting this kind of fool?
Kaya glanced around at the forest—again. Same trees. Same path. Same everything. For the fifth time.
She looked at him. Then at herself. Then back at him.
"Stay. Right here," she said firmly, pointing a finger at his chest like she was planting a flag.
Then, without another word, she turned and began climbing the nearest tree.
Cutie frowned, visibly frustrated. "Wait—let me... I'll climb too—"
Kaya paused mid-climb and gave him a look that could set bark on fire.
"If you climb, the tree will fall," she said dryly. "And besides, you don't even have a sense of direction."
Surprisingly, Cutie didn't argue.
Because even he knew it was true.
Even if he managed to get up there, he'd probably spin them in circles again. Somehow, he'd make everything worse. Kaya honestly couldn't wrap her head around how someone could live in a place for years and still get hopelessly lost every time they stepped outside.
Thankfully, her body had healed enough that climbing didn't hurt anymore. Much easier than last time.
She reached a good height and scanned the area. The tree wasn't as tall as the last one she'd climbed, so her view wasn't perfect—but it was enough.
And there it was.
Not a pond. Not a puddle.
A river.
Wide, gleaming in the distance like a trail of silver cutting through the forest.
Kaya narrowed her eyes and made a mental note.
Because clearly, if she wanted to get out of here alive, she'd have to do all the thinking—and the navigating—herself.
Mr. Firewood over here was just along for the ride.
Chirp.
(Enough.)
A sharp, creaking voice chirped from Kaya's pocket.
She froze mid-thought.
Oh. Right.
She blinked, then slowly looked down at her pocket.
"…Crap," she muttered.
She had completely forgotten about her so-called emergency food.
She gave the pocket a gentle pat—okay, maybe not that gentle. Just enough to send a message but not enough to knock him out.
From inside, a very offended, very dizzy little sparrow let out another annoyed chirp.
This woman was insane. She didn't let him eat. Didn't let him drink. She dragged him all over the place like he was a useless trinket, stuffed in her pocket, while she swayed and swung around like she was the heroine of a tragic mountain opera.
And now—now—he peeked out, and where the hell was she?
She was in a tree.
A very high-up tree.
Yes, he was a bird. Of course he could fly... if his wings weren't currently injured. But clearly, this woman had forgotten that minor detail. What did she expect him to do? Sprout a new pair?
If he fell now, it was over. Done. Sparrows massed meat on the forest floor.
He let out a long, suffering sigh. Life was cruel.
Meanwhile, down below, in the depths of her bag, the snake was having a full mental breakdown of his own.
He no longer cared. Not about the directionless idiot. Not about the tree. Not even if Kaya turned into a bird and flew to the moon.
He had accepted his fate.
His only remaining goal? Eat. That. Sparrow.
Then crawl out of this cursed pouch, transform into his full, glorious snake form, and devour this entire woman—not to digest her, no, no.
To trap her in his stomach, then roll down the steepest mountain he could find just to let her experience the full meaning of "suffering."
Yes. That would be justice.
But for now? He was stuck. With them.
Gods, help him.
On the other hand, Kaya had no idea that two pocket-sized creatures were already plotting their revenge like seasoned villains in a snack-sized rebellion. Both were silently making plans to eat her—one out of petty rage, the other out of sheer vengeance.
Meanwhile, Kaya was too busy being pissed off at the mosquitoes currently throwing a blood-sucking rave on her arms. She slapped one with a groan and muttered under her breath, "Why do they always go for the face?"
As soon as she jumped down from the tree, Cutie looked at her with glistening eyes—like she'd just performed a sacred ritual and earned a medal for bravery.
Kaya blinked. "What are you looking at?"