His fingers lifted slowly, brushing it back. But it fell again, like it was mocking him. That wasn't the face he wanted to see.
And then—he looked down.
To the hair in his hand.
Black.
Soft.
Still carrying the forest's scent.
Kaya's hair.
His lips twitched—just a hint of a smile at first, like something secret bloomed quietly behind his eyes.
Then it grew.
Without a word, he reached for a nearby blade—a jagged stone knife left from older days. Rough. Sharp. Primitive.
Snap.
A lock of his brown hair fell to the ground.
Snap.
Another.
And another.
And another.
Over and over, the sound echoed in the cave like a pulse. Until strands of brown hair covered the floor like scattered feathers.
When he looked back into the water again—his hair was shorter now. Not cleanly cut. But shorter. Messy. Uneven.
Not brown anymore, either.
Black.
