CHAPTER 382: CHAPTER-382.

"...Kaya," he breathed, soft. "You’re... okay. Good."

"Yeah, I’m fine," she said. "Don’t worry about me. Talk to me. Head spinning? Nausea? Anything weird?"

He blinked, thinking. "It... hurts," he admitted, quiet and honest. "Feels heavy. But... it’s not... turning. And I can hear you. That’s... enough, right?"

The way he said it—gently, like he was trying to reassure ’her’—made her chest pinch, but it didn’t scare her. It was just so very him.

"Let me check," Kaya said.

She brushed his wet hair away from the wound. The cut along his scalp was messy but not gaping open anymore. Fresh water was streaking the blood thin, not washing it out in sheets. She pressed lightly near it with careful fingers, watching his face.

"That?" she asked.

He winced. "Mm. Hurts. But... just there." His tone stayed calm, almost apologetic, like he was sorry to make her work.

She shifted, lifting his chin a little so she could look into his eyes properly. "Follow my finger," she said, moving her hand slowly. His gaze tracked without drifting. Pupils even. No glassy stare.

Kaya let out a slow breath. "It’s bad," she said, not lying. "But not the worst kind of bad."

Cutie gave a tiny, relieved sigh. "I’m... glad," he said. "You were frowning. I don’t like... when you look like that."

"Didn’t know you were judging my face," she muttered, but there was no bite in it.

On the other side, Veer finally spoke. "He’s not about to drop on us?" he asked, eyes never leaving Cutie’s face.

"If he was, he wouldn’t be answering that clearly," Kaya said. "He’s staying with us. As long as he doesn’t hit his head again."

Cutie swallowed. "Sorry," he whispered, eyes lowering for a moment. "I... made things troublesome."

That pulled a short, sharp breath out of her. "You didn’t ’make’ anything," Kaya said. "They came for that Sparrow. You just happened to be in the way."

He nodded slowly, accepting her words without arguing, trusting her more than his own guilt.

The waterfall hammered the pool below, throwing mist over them. It should have felt like a shield, all that noise hiding them. Instead, it made the cave feel like a bubble—quiet inside their small circle, deaf to everything else. Caves behind falls often twist sound and light, turning them into strange, echoing spaces that keep nerves on edge.

"We can’t stay long," Kaya said, eyes flicking toward the narrow path that hugged the cave wall. "Your tribe will hit that inn fast. Then they’ll follow every scent that doesn’t belong. Eventually someone remembers tunnels like this used to exist."

"Yeah," Veer agreed. "But right now, they’re still above, roaring at what you left on their floor. That buys us a little time."

Kaya’s gaze went back to Cutie. He was watching her quietly now, eyes softer, a small crease between his brows.

"You’re... shaking," he said, voice barely louder than the water. "It’s okay, Kaya. I’m still here."

She glanced down at her own hand and saw the faint tremor in her fingers where they rested near his shoulder. "It’s from the tunnel," she lied. "And from carrying your skinny ass through that corridor."

A tiny smile touched his lips. "Thank you... for not leaving me," he said. It was simple, no drama in it, just pure, soft gratitude that landed heavier than any shout.

Veer’s jaw worked once. "No one’s leaving anyone," he said. "Not after this much trouble."

"Exactly," Kaya said. "So here’s what happens next." She leaned back a little, giving herself just enough space to think. "We give him a few more breaths here. Let the clean air do its job. Then we move. You lead us along whatever goat‑path gets us to your side of the dens. Once we’re under your roof, your pack can chew on their anger there."

Veer nodded. "Path from this cave to the lower dens is short but steep. You stick close to the wall. I’ll keep hold of him. If anyone slips, you grab me, not him."

Kaya rolled her eyes. "I know how gravity works."

Cutie blinked between them, something quietly amused in his eyes. "You two... sound normal again," he said softly. "That’s... nice."

Kaya snorted. "You call this normal?"

"For us, yeah," Veer said.

For a few heartbeats more, they just sat there—water thundering beside them, mist clinging to their skin, air cold and clean in their throats. Kaya counted five slow breaths, watching the color in Cutie’s face settle from shock‑pale to something closer to usual. His eyes stayed clear. His voice, when he spoke, was still gentle, still steady enough.

"Ready?" she asked him.

He nodded once. "If you... are."

"Good answer," she said. Then to Veer: "All right. Let’s get out of this echo hole before someone decides to share it with us."

Veer shifted, gathering Cutie back into his arms. This time, when he stood, he didn’t say a word about the weight. Kaya rose beside them, one hand already reaching to steady Cutie’s head as they turned away from the tunnel mouth and toward whatever waited beyond the curtain of falling water.

.

.

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The first wolves smelled it before the horns sounded.

High on the eastern watchtower, a young gray lifted his head mid‑yawn. Night wind slid over the capital’s stone rings, carrying the usual mix—cooked meat, smoke, wet stone, fur. Then something else hit him like a slap: blood. Fresh, thick, too much. His spine snapped straight.

"Do you smell that?" he called, already stepping onto the outer ledge.

His partner, older, black‑furred, joined him, nostrils flaring. The scent tore past them again, stronger this time, pouring up from the hotel quarter like a red river. Not training blood. Not ring fights. This was panic and ripped flesh, layered over with unfamiliar fur and something sharp he couldn’t name. Her hand went to the horn without waiting for command. One long, deep note rolled out over the capital.

Down in the sleeping rings, heads snapped up. Warriors in half‑shift dropped dice, food, conversations.