The wire had twisted around the cub's hind leg, sunk deep enough that dried blood had hardened into a dark crust around it. Kyva's memories weren't sharp, but she had an inkling that she had dealt with traps while isolated a couple of times.
Her brows knit together in pure concentration.
Careful not to jostle the injured limb, she slid her dagger beneath the taut line.
The cub stiffened reflexively as though it did not trust her abilities, its ears flattening so hard they nearly disappeared into its fur. But that did not stop her.
Kyva noticed the cub's distress and immediately tried to calm the trembling creature. "I know. It's going to hurt. But you'll feel better afterwards. You are going to have to stay in one place for me, okay?"
It felt a little foolish, speaking to a fox cub like it could understand her. But there was no other way to comfort it, and staying quiet didn't seem like a better option either.
With one steady breath, she drew the blade sideways. The wire snapped successfully with a sharp metallic twang, and the sudden release sent the cub scrambling backward. It nearly toppled over itself, only to collapse back into the dirt with a graceless thud.
Kyva gasped. "Oh no–!"
The cub, clearly mortified after that shameful fall, tried to push itself upright, but its injured leg buckled beneath it.
It collapsed. Again
And stayed there this time.
There was a brief, heavy silence.
Kyva hesitated, then scooted a little closer to check if the cub was alright.
Now that the cub was free, she finally got a good look at it.
To her surprise, the little fox was impossibly small. Its body was no larger than a bundle of fur that could fit within both her hands, making it painfully clear that the cub was still just a baby. Its luminous white coat, though marred by streaks of blood and dust, still looked unbearably soft, like freshly fallen snow. The comparison came to her unbidden, and somehow, nothing else seemed to fit.
It looked… fragile.
When its head lifted and its wide eyes met hers, they shone like liquid amber, shimmering with a softness that made her chest tighten inexplicably. There was something helpless in that gaze, something achingly innocent, like a lost creature struggling to make sense of a world that had already been cruel to it.
It was… absurdly cute.
This kind of creature did not belong in a hunter's trap. Rather, it should be tucked somewhere warm, pampered and protected from the world.
It was just a fox baby!
There was no way she could leave the poor thing behind.
"Come here," she said softly, gathering the fox cub into her arms.
Cradling it carefully, she examined the injured hind leg before lifting her gaze to the surrounding forest. Liam had once mentioned that these woods held a variety of useful herbs. If she searched long enough, she might find something to treat the wound. Once the cub was stable enough to wander on its own, she could release it back into the wild, and hopefully, reunite it with its fox family.
That seemed about right.
Though, she admitted, it wouldn't hurt to have a little company for a while.
Right?
Already second-guessing herself after realizing she barely had enough supplies to keep even herself alive, Kyva glanced down at the cub, only to find it already snuggled against her chest, as though it had decided its place was officially there.
It let out a small, adorable yelp before relaxing completely in her embrace.
Kyva blinked.
She didn't know much about animals, but she had heard that they tend to sense when someone has good intentions for them. Perhaps that was why the fox had already grown comfortable with her.
The thought made her smile.
That was a good sign.
She adjusted her hold on the furball, gentler this time and murmured,
"Looks like we're both in no condition to run. But let's get your wound treated first."
As she limped forward with her new companion, she failed to notice the subtle shift in the cub's expression– how those soft, amber eyes briefly narrowed into something far sharper. Almost predatory as it set its eyes on her face.
She set the fox down gently on a fallen log, but it didn't seem eager to let her go. Its small body lingered close, as though wary she might disappear.
"Be a good fox and stay here," she said softly. "I need to treat your wound, so wait here while I gather some herbs."
For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something dark flicker behind those innocent, puppy-like eyes.
But then it was gone.
The cub hesitated, almost reluctantly, before it finally obeyed. Kyva gave it a gentle, reassuring pat on the head before turning away, scanning the forest floor for any useful roots or herbs.
By now, the huntsmen were likely awake.
She had slipped without a word… and taken some of their supplies with her. Hopefully, they had already given up the search and gone about their day.
As she looked around, Kyva did not find what she needed immediately.
The forest floor was thick with undergrowth, like tangles of creeping vines, broad-leafed weed, and clusters of unfamiliar growth that brushed against her knee as she limped forward. Most of it was useless. Some of it… dangerous.
She crouched once more and hissed at the dull throb in her own leg. Ignoring the fact that she was straining her injury, she reached out and brushed her fingers over a patch of low-growing leaves. She crushed one lightly between her fingers and brought it to her nose.
Her nose scrunched at the bitter scent.
No.
She wiped her hands against her clothes and moved on.
A few steps later, she paused again. A thin-stemmed plant with small, serrated leaves caught her eye. She snapped a piece, rubbed it between her fingers, then let out a quiet breath of disappointment.
She clicked her tongue under her breath.
"These plants aren't it."
Thinking of the injured fox still waiting for her, Kyva decided not to give up yet. She pushed a bit further into the woods, forcing her tired body to move. Time seemed to stretch as the forest grew thicker around her, making her wonder if it was deliberately trying to conceal what she sought.
At last, she stopped.
Nestled at the base of a fallen tree, half-hidden beneath damp leaves, was a cluster of broad, matte-green foliage veined faintly with pale lines.
Her blue eyes sparkled with hope.
When she crushed the leaf in her palm, a cool, earthy scent rose immediately, clean, with a faint sweetness beneath it.
"Moonleaf…" she murmured.
She gasped and inhaled once more. Moonleaf wasn't exactly rare, but it wasn't something one would stumble into carelessly either. Moonleaf was used to draw out infection, and it was gentle enough for open wounds.
It was exactly what she needed.
And perhaps… something she could use for herself as well.
Nearby, she spotted a thin root curling through the soil, pale and fibrous. She tugged it free with a bit more effort than she liked, and the root gave suddenly, sending her falling on her bottom. But she didn't react. She simply brushed off the dirt and examined the root.
Bitterroot.
It could dull pain and reduce swelling, if used sparingly.
"That'll do."
Since her escape, this was the first time Kyva truly let herself breathe.
After carefully pushing herself up, she gathered a small handful of the leaves and broke off a manageable piece of root before making her way back.
By the time she returned, her limp was more pronounced.
To her relief, the cub was still there, waiting on the log.
"Impressive," she murmured softly. "You stayed."
It seemed the fox truly understood human language.
She lowered herself beside it and reached into the pack she had taken from the campsite, pulling out a small flask. Pouring a bit of water over the leaves, she rubbed the dirt before setting them on a flat stone nearby.
The root came next, and she scraped away the outer layer with her dagger, exposing the soft inner fibers. Then, working slowly, she began to grind the ingredients together.
A faint note of satisfaction flickered across her face as she examined the results, and the mixture came out usable.
Turning to the fox cub that watched her curiously, her expression softened just a fraction. She rinsed off the blood and the dirt still clinging to the wound before warning gently.
"This might sting."
And then carefully, with steady hands, she reached for its injured leg and applied the paste.
When the fox didn't react, Kyva immediately assumed that the fox was also super brave. She was sure it stung, but its lack of reaction was admirable. Earlier, the poor thing had been crying in a trap.
When she was done, she took her dagger and sliced off a clean strip from her inner lining. She folded it twice before wrapping it gently around the cub's leg.
A final knot secured it.
"There," she exhaled softly, her shoulders easing just a little. "That should hold for now."
Her gaze lingered on the small, bandaged limb, then flicked briefly to her own injured leg. The fox also followed her gaze.
"...We'll both just have to manage," she added quietly.