Juna ran until the roots blurred under her feet and every breath scraped raw down her throat.
The coat snagged a branch and yanked her shoulder back, nearly tearing the stolen meat from her arm.
"Let go, stupid human thing..." she rasped, voice cracking.
She ripped the canvas free, but its smell followed her and failed to cover the other one.
'Snow at the doorway, smoke inside, and my mother reaching for me before the blade came down.'
The village was asleep when the human hunters walked into its lanes, carrying nets and steel past every closed door. Her mother fell before anyone understood the shouting, and fire drove the runners toward the arrows waiting beyond the huts.
The last thing under her face was snow, warmed by blood for a moment before she stopped feeling either one.
After that came the waiting place, where someone beside an opening offered something better than a season that never ended.
She took the offer, never expecting a human face waiting on the other side of her first breath.
'He brings a sword and a name, and I don't know what he'll want for either.'
Strength answered in fingers that should not exist anymore, and she stared at them while the coat slid lower.
"Why do these still work... why do I?"
She climbed until the slope bent beneath a tree with its roots above the earth.
The bond in her chest stayed warm, but never once pulled her back toward him.
'Juna, a name to keep breathing with, though I can't explain why it belongs to me now.'
Her knees folded at the roots, and she landed on one hip, catching the venison before it hit dirt.
Tears came with nobody watching, so she stopped fighting them and curled between the roots instead of pretending at strength. She couldn't see the huts from here, yet whenever her eyes closed, their burning doors felt closer than this forest.
She remembered others running past the flames, but not who reached the mountains or survived.
'Another forest, and no voice I know answers me, only hunters laughing at our doors.'
Sleep pried the food from her cramped fingers but left the bond, which kept her lungs moving.
---
Hajin found her curled between the roots, his coat bunched under her knee.
"Okay, she's breathing, nobody bit anybody, this is going great so far."
'Wake her up and she claws my face off, so we're doing this the quiet way.'
He laid his blanket over her legs, then built a fire opposite her and left the trail open.
"Look at me, cooking, tucking people in, the Flint elders would choke on their tea," he muttered to the fire.
Hours later she stirred, grabbing the blanket first, and then her nose found his skewer.
"You're awake, take this end if you want it, the middle still burns."
Juna bared her fangs with a low growl, yanking both feet under the coat.
"Stay there," she said, clutching the blanket higher, "don't come closer."
"Staying, staying, look, I'm a rock, I'm basically scenery."
He set the skewer on a flat stone between them and tapped it once, "Dinner won't walk over to you, though, it's not that kind of deer."
Hunger beat pride, and she darted in, snatched the stick, then scrambled back with her tail bristling.
"Plenty more, the deer argued about donating it yesterday, but I won the argument." He hung a fresh strip over the flames, grinning at the way she tore into hers.
She dug a claw into the root until the bark split, then pointed the skewer at his chest, "What did you do to my soul? I remember dying in the north, that wasn't a dream."
"I opened a door and something answered, then I held on while you came through, honestly, I didn't know who'd show up." He scratched his neck, leaving his sheathed sword exactly where she could see it.
"And the name... it kept you from coming apart, that's the only thing I knew for sure."
"Do you think naming me makes you my master?" She lifted her chin above the coat's collar.
"Pfft, master? Me?" He snorted and turned the skewer without reaching toward her or the blade.
"The name kept your fingers solid, it didn't put them in my pocket."
'Don't celebrate, idiot, she's still deciding which part of you to bite first.'
He checked the status beside his wrist while the next skewer cooked.
[ Active summon | Juna, Wolf Beastkin ]
[ Restored stage | One Wing ]
[ Personal EXP | 0 / 300000 ]
[ Multiplier | 1.5 ]
[ Skill | Hunter's Nose ]
[ Bond | Vessel stabilized, trust independent ]
'Her own meter, separate from my Ring, and I've got no clue what one Wing means.'
He squinted at the floating panel above his wrist, "One Wing, apparently, does that mean anything to you?"
"What window? You're reading air, or you want me looking away while you move." She glanced past his raised wrist, then checked the shadows behind his pack.
"Only I can see it, which, yeah, sounds exactly like something a liar would say."
Her mouth twitched before she buried it in the collar, and he wisely kept his victory dance to himself.
[ Wings | Personal evolution, restored abilities and future growth ]
[ Retrieval | Mortal vessel formed before restoration ]
[ Higher stages | Greater development, no fixed species rank ]
He pushed the skewer closer to her side, "Says your senses came back, something called Hunter's Nose, plus your own path to grow, not a rank on a collar."
"Water below us, blood on your sleeve, and sap where you snapped a branch chasing me." Juna sniffed the wind toward the downhill trail, looking insufferably smug about it.
"Shit, okay," he laughed under his breath, looking at his torn sleeve, "that's creepy, and also really useful."
She finished the second skewer first, then pointed the emptied stick at his pack.
"Where's your whip, or the scroll? Humans don't bring my kind back just to feed us."
He flipped the pack open to show the bedroll, the crystal pouch still at his belt, "No whip, no binding scroll, a blanket and a crappy sword cost me plenty already."
"A fighter who picks her spot beats one waiting to bolt, but you don't owe me a fight for a meal." He laid a twig across the embers without shifting an inch toward her roots.
She snatched the next skewer, cheeks bulging around a mouthful, and lifted her chin, "I'm not a pet, I hunted at the front of the lunar wolves, don't mistake eating for obedience."
"Wouldn't dream of it, and dinner isn't me buying your ears either, nice as they are."
"Shut up and cook," she snapped, ears flicking as her face went red.
[ CringeSlayer91: tracked her just to cook dinner, absolute cinema ]
[ CringeSlayer91: still looks ready to bite, feed her more ]
'No idea what a cinema is, but if I laugh now, she'll think the voices mean her.'
Afternoon slid into evening while she ate, and his pack and sword never moved from their places.
"When morning comes, I'm leaving, don't think a fire makes me yours." She stood with the blanket under her coat and looked up the trail.
He set the knife beside his sword, dropped his bedroll, and lay back with eyes shut, "Leave when you're ready, the forest has no gates, though it wastes less meat if somebody shares the fire first."
She stood a while, then circled the warmth and settled at a root nearer the coals instead.
"Three meals, I stay for three full meals, after that we'll see," she muttered into her collar, glaring at the fire.
"Then don't burn the next one while I nap," he said, cracking one eye open toward the skewer between them, "I'm not fighting over whether charcoal counts as dinner."
She rolled her eyes but moved the skewer clear of the flame, and evening closed around their camp.
'Clothes for her tomorrow, a buyer for the core, and maybe I survive three meals.'
Tonight, he could rest beside a fire somebody else chose to tend, with no command making her stay.