Chapter 7 --.
She took a deep breath, arms stretched wide as if trying to let the air calm her nerves. Her gaze wandered across the quiet surroundings. The river nearby wasn’t much—narrow, slow, and definitely not a main water source—but even so, she wasn’t dumb enough to sleep out in the open. Not here.
From everything she’d seen so far, this was the only water around. And where there’s water, there are animals—big ones, wild ones, desperate ones. The kind that don’t care who or what gets in their way.
She wasn’t some survival expert. This wasn’t her world. She didn’t know the rules of the jungle—hell, she didn’t even know if this place was a jungle. All she knew was after seeing that oversized, terrifying vulture earlier, she’d be a fool to stay put. If that thing came back—or worse, if something bigger showed up—she doubted she’d be lucky enough to escape again. And she wasn’t about to gamble with her life.
"Uck..." she groaned as another step sent a sharp pulse of pain shooting up her leg. She stopped, looking down at her foot—and cursed under her breath. The swelling was worse now, puffed up and red.
With a sigh, she bent down, carefully unwrapping the cloth around her ankle. The skin underneath was tender, the sprained spot throbbing from the long trek. She pressed gently, only to flinch at the sting.
"Perfect," she muttered, sarcasm thick. "As if today wasn’t already fantastic."
There wasn’t even any oil around—not a single drop. The best she could do now was use water. She remembered what her grandmother used to say: soaking a sprained foot in warm water helped ease the pain, made it easier to walk again. Yeah, yeah, she knew cold compresses were the usual go-to, but her body never responded well to cold. It made her muscles stiff, her joints ache. She needed warm water.
Well, water wasn’t the problem. That, at least, she had plenty of.
But—
"Damn it," Kaya groaned, rubbing her temples in frustration. Of course, now that she had water in abundance, there was nothing to boil it in. No pot. No container. Not even a dented old bowl.
As she stood there, stewing in irritation, a shrill sound pierced the silence.
"Chrrrip chrio chrio chirrp!"
(Let me out, you ridiculous female! Do you even know who I am? Release me this instant!)
Kaya’s eye twitched. This little feathered menace had been chirping nonstop for what felt like hours, and now—now—he had the nerve to act like he was the victim?
"This bastard..." she muttered through clenched teeth, rising to her feet. In one swift motion, she yanked the sparrow from her coat pocket.
"Chrrip chirrip chriii—"
(Good, now that you’ve come to your se—)
The sparrow froze mid-sentence.
Kaya’s expression was cold—dead cold. Her eyes locked on him like he was the root of all her problems, and in this moment, he very well might’ve been.
"Alright then," she said darkly, her voice sweet with mock cheer, "Forget the water. Let’s cook you first."
She clenched her fingers slightly around him.
The sparrow gasped, wings stiffening.
(M-Mom... Dad... save me...)
His beady eyes widened in terror. He’d met a lot of fierce females in his life—but none quite like this one. And right now, trapped in her grip, he was starting to regret every chirp.
But regret? That wasn’t Kaya’s problem.
She didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. She wasn’t taking anything back.
With calm precision, she grabbed a bundle of dry grass and, using swift fingers and no ounce of pity, wove it into a makeshift rope. Before the little pest could squawk another insult, she tied him—upside down—to a nearby tree. Tight. Secure. No wiggle room.
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Then, without a second glance, she turned and began gathering dry wood scattered around the area.
"Chrrp! Chrio! Chripppp!"
(Let me go, please! PLEASE!)
The sparrow wriggled and flailed, feathers rustling in panic, but Kaya didn’t even blink. Her expression was focused—calm in a terrifying, ’I’ve done this before’ kind of way.
The truth was, the little sparrow beastman was in complete shock. His tiny bird brain couldn’t process what was happening. What kind of female ties up a male to roast him alive?! Wasn’t he supposed to be charming? Adorable? Worth saving?
Apparently not.
And as he hung there—upside down, the blood rushing to his tiny head while his captor stacked wood like she was prepping for a barbecue—he knew.
This day... this cursed, feather-ruffling day...
Would haunt him forever.
A traumatic Chapter in the life of one unfortunate little beastman sparrow.
While Kaya busied herself collecting wood a few steps away, completely unbothered, someone—or rather, something—had its eyes fixed on the little upside-down prisoner.
Crimson, blood-hued eyes blinked from the underbrush. Unblinking. Unforgiving.
Hissssss...
The low, chilling sound slithered through the air.
The sparrow froze mid-squirm. Not paused—froze. Like his tiny bird soul had momentarily left his body. He recognized that sound. No, it couldn’t be... Not here. Not like this.
"Chripppp! Chrippppppp!"
(Female! Save me! SAVE ME!)
He cried, flapping like a possessed feather duster. But Kaya? She didn’t even turn around. She was already fed up with his constant squawking and had tuned him out like background noise.
But this wasn’t the usual chirping. This was panic. Desperation. Pure, flailing terror.
From the grass ahead, a sleek, pitch-black snake slid forward, its long body weaving effortlessly across the dirt. It flicked its red tongue with eerie curiosity, eyes locked onto the trembling snack—no, sparrow—tied up like a pre-seasoned offering.
Hissss...
("Ah... dinner’s just hanging around waiting for me, how polite...")
The sparrow’s beady eyes widened, his little chest puffing in horror.
"Chrip! Chripppppp!"
(Stay away! Don’t come near me!)
He thrashed with everything he had, but all it did was make him swing gently like a plump, feathered fruit. The snake tilted its head in amusement.
Hissss-hiss...
(Struggle more. You’ll taste better scared.)
And just like that, the sparrow realized—being roasted by Kaya suddenly didn’t seem like the worst fate anymore.
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