Suddenly, Kaya felt all the hair on her body stand up. A cold shiver crept down her spine. It was the same feeling she had when she'd come face-to-face with death during her service—unmistakable, bone-deep fear.
Her body moved on its own.
Slowly, cautiously, she turned her head, scanning the area. Nothing. No clear threat. But her instincts screamed otherwise. Something was out there.
And then—her eyes met Cutie's.
He was frozen.
His usually soft, innocent eyes were now wide with terror, locked on something behind her. That alone told Kaya enough.
He felt it too.
And then—she saw it.
In the dense darkness, hidden just beyond the bushes… a pair of golden eyes gleamed, unblinking, staring straight at her.
Predator.
Without a second thought, Kaya grabbed Cutie's hand and bolted, sprinting at full speed toward the direction she remembered—the only place she saw might offer some cover.
And just as her feet pounded the forest floor, the sound followed.
Heavy. Thunderous. Like the earth itself trembled.
A low growl rolled through the air, and then it emerged—through the trees, a massive tiger, five times the size of any normal one, with golden fur that seemed to shimmer with each stride.
Its eyes never left them. And it charged.
Branches whipped against Kaya's arms as she ran, her grip tight around Cutie's wrist. The only sound louder than their frantic footsteps was the monstrous roar behind them. The ground quaked beneath them—thud, thud, thud—as the massive beast thundered through the forest, tearing through trees like paper.
"Don't look back!" Kaya shouted, breath ragged, but she could hear Cutie panting behind her, struggling to keep pace.
The golden-eyed tiger let out another deep growl, closer this time. Too close.
A tree to their left splintered and crashed as the beast's massive form lunged past it. Dirt and leaves exploded around them. Kaya didn't dare stop. Her legs burned. Her heart pounded like a drum in her ears.
Just when she spotted a slope ahead—a dip in the forest that led toward a stream—they jumped.
They rolled. Mud clung to their skin. Stones scraped her elbows. But Kaya didn't let go of his hand.
The tiger roared again, enraged, crashing through the upper ridge.
Kaya yanked Cutie upright. "Move!"
The beast followed, leaping down with terrifying ease, landing with a bone-rattling crash that sent waves through the ground.
She could feel its breath now—hot and sharp—on her back.
Ahead, she saw it: a tight path through two thick, jagged rocks. Just wide enough for them, but not for something five times bigger.
"This way!" she cried out, pulling Cutie toward the gap.
The tiger lunged—massive claws striking the ground just a breath behind them—but the pair slipped through the rock gap, tumbling onto the other side.
The beast snarled and slammed into the stone wall, shaking it, but it couldn't follow. Its golden eyes glared at them through the crack, glowing with fury.
Both Kaya and Cutie collapsed, panting, mud-covered, and shaken. The forest around them was quiet again, but the echo of that roar lingered in Kaya's chest like a threat that hadn't ended—only paused.
Kaya's chest heaved as she pressed her back against the rough stone, the cold surface grounding her in the moment. She could still feel the tiger's growl vibrating through the stone, like a warning echoing through her bones. Cutie was hunched over beside her, gasping for breath, his ears twitching erratically—clearly still in shock.
She glanced at him, noticing a scrape on his arm. "You're bleeding," she said in a low voice, more out of habit than concern—her soldier instincts still active, still alert.
Cutie looked at her with wide eyes, his lips trembling. "That… that wasn't just any beast," he whispered.
Kaya's eyes narrowed. "No. It wasn't." Her gaze turned toward the crack where the golden eye had glared. "That thing… it was hunting us. Not by accident. It waited."
And then a terrifying realization dawned on her.
"It was intelligent," she murmured. "It was watching. Waiting. Not chasing like an animal—it was testing us."
Cutie nodded slowly, rubbing his arms. "It was like it knew we'd run this way…"
Kaya's mind raced. She didn't know this world. Didn't understand its rules. But she knew one thing for sure—instinct. And her instincts screamed that this wasn't just a beastly world. No… it was a place where predators weren't ruled by hunger alone.
Suddenly, from the other side of the stone wall, there was a scraping sound. Claws—long, sharp—dragged slowly down the surface. Not trying to break in.
Just letting them know it was still there.
Still watching.
Cutie whimpered. Kaya gritted her teeth.
"No more running blindly," she muttered, standing up despite the ache in her legs. "If this place wants to test me, fine. But I'm not prey. Not anymore."
She offered Cutie a hand, and as he took it, a flicker of trust passed between them.
The beast was gone—for now.
But Kaya knew deep down... that wasn't the last time they'd see those golden eyes.
Cutie couldn't stop staring at her. His big eyes followed every step she took, filled with quiet wonder and something that felt dangerously close to admiration. He glanced down at his paw—still red where she'd grabbed him, her grip firm and fearless.
He had never known someone like her. She was bold. Strong. She didn't wait to be saved—she ran first and expected you to catch up.
And in that whirlwind of motion, a strange thought slipped into his mind:
Even if death comes now... I wouldn't mind.
But not everyone was caught up in the moment.
Inside Kaya's side pocket, a tiny head popped up, feathers ruffled and eyes wide with horror. The sparrow looked like he had seen the afterlife—and hadn't been impressed.
His face was pale. His beak trembled. And his whole body swayed slightly like he was seasick.
"Chriipppp."
(This bitch… ugh, just kill me already.)
Smashed deep inside her pocket, the sparrow looked like a survivor of a mid-air disaster. Pale as a ghost, feathers sticking out at all angles, his face scrunched in horror. If birds could develop trauma, he was halfway through his own therapy session already.