At dawn, sun sifted through leaves and coaxed Rafi awake.
She pried open eyelids like locked doors, forcing them with a shaky breath.
She slid from the hammock, saw Nina still curled, and guilt pricked.
Yesterday Nina did the chores; Rafi only knotted a small hammock, a pebble of guilt in her shoe.
She stroked Nina’s sleeping head, palm feather-light, like smoothing a kitten’s fur.
She moved in slow tides, trying to spare her any quake or noise.
After a struggle fit to move mountains, she finally got down.
Rafi doused the campfire that had burned all night, embers sighing out.
She went to a cold stream to wash, breath misting like dawn fog.
By the time she returned, Nina sat on the hammock’s edge, eyes clouded with sleep.
Come here, Nina. I’ll wash your face.
She lifted the damp handkerchief and wiped Nina’s cheeks, gentle as rain.
Mrr… A small, unhappy purr spilled from Nina at the cold cloth.
Rafi winced, apologetic; out here, there was no time to boil water.
If she used fire magic, flames died or the water vanished to steam.
Her mana control wasn’t precise enough to hold a steady warmth, and guilt grew heavy.
Nina saw that droop at once and disliked it; she hated Rafi sad for her sake.
She reached to Rafi’s hair, palm warm, a motherly—maybe—smile blooming.
Don’t be sad, okay? Nina didn’t feel bad.
Anything Sister Rafi touches turns warm.
Nina only made sound because it felt too good.
See, cats purr when happy.
Nina’s Beastfolk, so Nina’s just happy.
Wow—Nina could spin gold from words; Rafi bought it whole.
She followed Nina’s logic, and—hmm—it did make sense; her mood lifted.
Seeing Rafi brighten, Nina’s smile grew softer, her gaze tender like toward a child.
With their height difference, it was hard to tell who was sister and who was little.
ROAR!
A thunderous roar tore their calm, like lightning cracking a slate sky.
Both snapped alert at once, eyes sharpening, caution slipping across their faces.
Nina, should we go take a look?
No, Sister Rafi, absolutely not.
This isn’t the beast you pinned with one arrow yesterday.
It’s likely high-tier—no, calling it epic-tier might still be underestimating it!
Her warning only stoked Rafi’s curiosity, bright like a spark in dry grass.
That doesn’t add up.
We watched for so long yesterday and felt no danger.
How does an epic monster suddenly show up?
Rafi’s doubt didn’t blunt Nina’s caution; it sharpened like a drawn blade.
Before Nina was captured, she lived alone in this forest.
Nina knows its law best: the victor is king, the strongest rules the trees.
It didn’t roar yesterday, but roars today because the beast you killed was its vassal—maybe kin.
That’s why it’s angry.
We ate its meat, so a trace of its scent lingers in us.
Rushing in is suicide; the Forest King’s power is no trifling storm.
Is that all? If we can’t win, we run.
Textbook reckless, that was Rafi’s heart talking.
Impossible!
We won’t get a chance to escape.
Everything in the forest bends to the Forest King’s will—even the plants.
Do you think the two of us can fight nature?
Most of all, all Forest Kings share one creed.
Once they catch an intruder, there’s only one end… that’s being—cough—well, you know.
Rafi let the threat slide past; she seized on one line.
You said everything, even the common plants, obey the Forest King’s will, right?
Nina wasn’t sure why Rafi asked, but she nodded.
Yes.
Rafi pointed at the tall trees circling them, trunks suddenly feeling like silent spears.
Then… do those count?
Yes, those too.
They froze together, then traded a look.
Fear mirrored back in the other’s eyes.
In sync, both spoke.
Then that means—
Boom!
A boulder crashed beside them, earth jumping; a hulking figure strode from the shadowed trees.
Which means… I’m here, mongrel!
