CHAPTER 187: CHAPTER-187

But as Kaya pulled him inside, his wings refused to cooperate. The thick tree entrance had barely enough room for her, let alone the wide span of Veer’s wings. They remained stubbornly stuck outside, fluttering like trapped curtains in a storm.

Kaya rubbed her temple, already feeling the headache crawl up behind her eyes. "Of course," she muttered under her breath, glaring at the feathery limbs like they were mocking her.

She looked at her own bags tucked neatly against the bark, then back at Veer’s face—which was entirely too smug for someone half-stuck in a tree hole. With a deep inhale and a tight-lipped scowl, she gave him one hard kick on his lower back.

Thud.

He landed outside with a loud grunt, hitting the frozen earth with his head slightly bouncing off the ground. "Are you a donkey or what?!" he snapped, blinking up at the sky, utterly betrayed.

Kaya just scoffed, hands on her hips. "You’re the one shaped like a giant chicken, and I’m the donkey?"

Veer gave her a long glare.

Still keeping her bags safely inside, Kaya stepped out and marched up to him with firm steps, brushing the snow off her boots as she came closer. Without warning, she grabbed him from behind—gritting her teeth—and pushed him, wings and all, back inside the tree’s hollow trunk. She shoved with every ounce of strength she had, muttering curses under her breath until, finally, his stubborn wings folded in with a flutter and squish.

"Move your feathers!" she barked.

"I am moving them," he hissed back, twisted in the cramped space like a bird stuffed into a shoe box.

Now, the small room looked even smaller. Kaya sighed, standing outside for a breath of sanity before ducking inside too. As soon as she entered, the space hugged her tightly. No, more like smothered her.

The tips of Veer’s wings grazed her back—soft, yes—but cold, and uninvited. And her bare skin, especially around her neck and cheeks, felt ticklish and weirdly itchy where they brushed.

"Ugh," she muttered, frowning. "Your wings are everywhere."

"I told you they don’t bend like yours."

"They better start learning."

She tried shifting sideways, adjusting her position to avoid the worst of the contact, but it was impossible. She was either going to be frozen or feather-slapped. And considering the temperature outside, she picked the lesser evil.

A few minutes passed.

And then, slowly, her expression shifted.

Kaya blinked and turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing against the outer layer of his wing. Her brows furrowed—not in annoyance this time, but surprise. "...Huh?"

She reached a hand out and poked the feathery part curiously.

"These are... actually nice," she said quietly, as if admitting it out loud made her vulnerable.

Veer turned his head a little. "What?"

So Kaya just looked at him, deadpan, and said... nothing.

Instead, she crossed her arms and closed her eyes, her expression unreadable. Like, there wasn’t even a point in lighting a fire anymore. Not that they could, anyway. The space inside the tree hollow was barely enough for them to sit side by side. Still, thanks to their close proximity—and the thick hide spread beneath them—they weren’t freezing. Not exactly warm, either, but warm enough to survive.

They stayed like that for two days. Two long days inside that tree.

They wanted to leave. Really, they did. But the snow hadn’t stopped. It just kept falling. Thick, heavy, relentless. By the second night, it had blanketed the front of the tree, hiding the entrance completely. Thank the gods Veer had the sense to place that wooden plank over the opening just in time. Otherwise, the snow would’ve poured right in.

When the third morning came, Veer gave the plank one strong kick and it flew off, sending a spray of snow out with it. But even then, the snow was too high. Kaya had to crawl her way out like a burrowing animal, her elbows digging into the packed frost as she pulled herself forward. Veer followed, brushing snow off his hair and shoulders with a sigh.

The snow had piled halfway up the tree’s entrance, and despite Veer’s efforts, it didn’t budge easily. It took some time to dig through, but finally, they made it out into the biting air.

Outside, Kaya looked over at Veer.

His wings looked... odd. Not broken, but the curve was strange—crooked, almost limp. Her brows furrowed, concern rising.

But then, just as he gave them a sharp flutter—once, twice, thrice—they straightened themselves out. Veer gave her a smug grin, like he’d noticed her concern but wasn’t going to let her comment on it.

They were planning to travel farther this time. Somewhere new. Somewhere open.

Kaya had offered—softly, almost without looking at him—that if he wanted to go back to his home, he could. But Veer just scoffed.

"Pfft. Sit in a cave all day? Nah. That’s boring. Let’s go find something to do."

Of course he wouldn’t say he didn’t want to leave her. That’d be too direct for Veer.

This time, Kaya braced herself better for flight. It wasn’t bad, really. She was getting used to the way his arms held her, the silent woosh as his wings beat against the wind. The only real struggle was holding onto her bag. Veer flew fast. Way too fast.

Their next stop was along a frozen riverbank. The river hadn’t frozen entirely—yet—but it looked like it wanted to. Large patches of thick ice had crept in from the shore, clinging to rocks and curling around fallen branches. The water in the center still flowed, slow and shivering.

If not for the current, Kaya was sure the whole river would’ve frozen solid by now.

As Kaya stood by the river, lost in thought, the freezing wind brushing against her cheeks, Veer gently patted her shoulder and spoke with all the sympathy of a misunderstood poet,

"Don’t worry, sweetheart. Even if you smell, I won’t tell you to jump into this cold river. I can handle your scent."