'She didn't care.'
Not one bit. When she ran, she ran like a storm with zero concern for the precious life jammed into her pocket.
Only he knew the true terror—the moment she stumbled and fell, he was sure that was it. He was about to be turned into sparrow jelly. He could practically hear his bones crack.
Chrip....
This time his sound was much weaker
('It hurt so damn much'.)
As he sat there, wallowing in his own internal pain and listing grievances against her name for future revenge, his eyes suddenly landed on the person standing in front of her.
His gaze froze.
That brown, beast of a figure—muscles like logs, size like a mountain—and for a moment, the sparrow thought it was a bear. A walking, furred bear. But then, he saw them.
The ears.
Rabbit ears.
Oh no.
This... thing was supposed to be a rabbit?
He blinked. His tiny jaw dropped.
If not for those damn ears, he would've bet his last sunflower seed that this was a bear in cosplay.
Chrip?
( What the hell was this creature?!)
But that wasn't the worst part. No, not even close.
The worst came when he saw that guy's expression—when he looked at her.
His whole body shuddered.
"Belghhhh."
He felt his soul try to escape through his beak. That expression—those sparkling eyes—like she was a goddess dipped in morning dew and unicorn tears. Disgusting. Absolutely revolting.
In all his bird life, flying wild and free, even though he was a known little meanie and proud of it, there were still meanie birds who liked him. There were still sassy female sparrows who found his snark attractive. He wasn't unloveable.
But never, never in his life had he seen someone look at a female like that and mean it.
He gagged again, this time louder, flopping deeper into the fabric like he might self-destruct.
'What the hell was that expression? Puppy-eyed adoration? Twinkling gaze of destiny? Please.'
'How can someone fall for this bitch? Instead of doing that, it'd be better to just fall in love with a worm soaking in crap. At least the worm wouldn't drag you headfirst into near-death situations while pretending nothing happened.'
He threw his wings over his head and groaned in misery.
This is it.
This is my hell.
Not the lion. Not the running. But this — watching a muscle-brain rabbit fall for a chaos tornado.
Chripppp chrippp!
(Dear universe, just give me wings strong enough to fly far, far away from this lunatic pocket.)
Little did the poor sparrow know, as he was busy calling Kaya a bug and mocking her, that this very woman would soon have him right where she wanted.
In the near future, she would slip a collar around his neck, yank him up by his legs, and force him down onto his knees—right before her.
No amount of sass or clever comebacks would save him then.
.
.
But unlike those two fools lost in their own tangled thoughts, the snake was far from calm.
Even curled up inside her pocket, he was alert—sensing every danger, every shift in the air. He couldn't see the lion chasing them clearly, but the scent was unmistakable. And that smell... it set off alarms deep inside him.
He'd been watching closely ever since this woman appeared. First came the vulture—never one to attack her before—yet the vulture prince had suddenly turned his sharp gaze on her, ready to strike. Then the hyena. Normally, no wild creature would casually attack a female, but the hyena's leader, who should've hesitated, instead bore pure hatred in his eyes. Not admiration, not curiosity, but burning, spiteful hatred.
And now, the lion.
Even though the snake couldn't see her face clearly, he could feel what the lion's gaze held—a twisted kind of lust, a raw desire directed at this woman alone.
How was he so sure it wasn't for him, the sparrow, or that bulky rabbit? Because the snake was closest to her heart—he could hear every beat.
When she started running, fear engulfed her like a shadow, but what followed was impossible to ignore.
Normally, when someone runs, their heartbeat races—quick, steady, urgent. But hers... her heart beat faster, then suddenly, for a heartbeat that stretched into seconds, it stopped. Paused.
No living being with a beating heart could do that—not without consequences.
Even as they ran, that unnatural stillness lingered beneath her pulse—a frozen moment in time, like the calm before a storm.
The snake's tongue flicked quietly. This woman wasn't ordinary. And whatever was hunting her—be it vulture, hyena, or lion—it wasn't just danger. It was something much deeper.
Something dangerous.
Even though this woman had broken his fangs and never really cared to treat him, he didn't know why—but the wounds were healing. He didn't feel much pain, either. Maybe it was because he stayed close to her, or something else—he wasn't sure.
Still, the healing was real. Not fast or sudden, but steady enough to give him hope.
If things continued like this, in two days, he and that damn sparrow might just be able to return to their original forms.
When Beastmen entered their waking period, no doctor—no matter how skilled—could treat their injuries. It was an undeniable truth.
This was why so many Beastmen died during this time. Their rivals and predators knew it too, and they used this moment of weakness to hunt them relentlessly. No matter how strong a Beastman might be, during the waking period, they were at their most vulnerable. Any wound inflicted wouldn't heal, no matter what.
But then, someone noticed something unusual.
He glanced at the sparrow—not flying or doing much—but he had seen it. The sparrow was healing. His leg, mostly mended. Even his wings showed signs of recovery.
That made him suspicious.
When the sparrow was locked in that cage, he'd seen the healing happen.
And now, with this lion chasing the woman, he couldn't shake the feeling that it all tied back to that strange healing—some connection he couldn't yet understand.