The wooden door creaked softly as it was pushed open.

  Evening air slipped inside, carrying the fading echoes of the market beyond the old timber walls.

  Once home, Ariani wasted no time. She set down the woven bags, hung her cloak, rolled up the sleeves of her tunic, and began arranging the ingredients on the kitchen table—a table that had witnessed years of togetherness… and scarcity.

  Mika crouched before the hearth. Her small hands skillfully stacked firewood. She struck the flint.

  Click. Click. A spark was born. The flame caught.

  She rotated the iron spit where the rodent hung, letting the meat slowly change color over the embers. Fat dripped onto the coals—

  Sssst… A savory aroma filled the room.

  Time passed.

  The rodent browned to a crisp surface while broth simmered gently in a large iron pot, steam curling into a thin haze beneath the kitchen ceiling.

  “Mika…” Ariani called over the crackle of firewood and baking bread. “Add the roasted meat to the stew. And warm some milk for your brother, dear.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Mika rose, took a small knife, and carefully sliced the meat. Piece by piece, she dropped it into the pot.

  Plop. The broth welcomed it.

  She stirred with a wooden spoon. The pieces sank, resurfaced, and sank again—absorbing spice and time.

  The aroma was warm.

  Deep.

  Touching something beyond hunger.

  “Hmmm…”

  A faint smile curved her lips. She couldn’t resist. Lifting the spoon, she watched the brown broth drip back into the pot before bringing it to her mouth.

  Sluuurp…

  Rich. Smoky. Laced with the wild herbs she had gathered that morning.

  Her eyes widened slightly.

  Brother will love tonight’s dinner.

  The thought warmed her.

  Out there, in the unforgiving forest, Raian was likely still striking the old oak.

  But here—In this small wooden house—Something waited for him.

  Steam still danced above the pot when Mika turned toward the woven bag from the market. She reached inside, searching for the milk bottle that should have been there.

  Cloth.

  Spices.

  Tea leaves.

  But—

  No glass.

  Her hand moved deeper.

  Empty.

  “Mother… we bought milk, didn’t we?” she called.

  “Hm? Check the milk container—see if there’s any left.”

  Mika hurried to the metal storage tin in the corner and opened it.

  Empty.

  “There’s none.”

  Ariani fell silent for a moment before emerging from the hearth, wiping her hands on a coarse cloth.

  “Oh dear…” she murmured. “Your brother loves warm milk after a long day of training…”

  The words lingered.

  Mika’s gaze shifted—from the bag, to her mother’s face, to the door.

  A small decision began to grow inside her chest.

  “Alright. Stay here,” Ariani said, reaching for her cloak. “I’ll go—”

  “Let me go, Mother.”

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  Mika’s voice cut through gently—but firmly.

  She stood straighter now. The dimness from earlier had been replaced by a quiet flame of determination.

  “It’s a small thing. But I want to help my brother. Even if it’s just this.”

  Ariani looked at her daughter.

  For a moment, she did not see a child who once nuzzled her shoulder.

  She saw Sein’ei blood.

  Gentle.

  But unyielding.

  “But—”

  Before Ariani could finish, Mika was already moving. A scarf wrapped swiftly around her neck. Her cloak fastened with a decisive pull.

  “Don’t worry. I’m dressed warmly.”

  She offered a brief smile—not playful, but reassuring.

  “Please wait at home.”

  The wooden door opened.

  Golden twilight flooded in, framing her small figure as though the sky itself granted silent blessing.

  “Mi—Mika!”

  Ariani’s voice cracked, but her daughter had already leapt from the porch.

  “Mika!”

  Louder now.

  The girl ran, her small shoes striking earth in light but certain rhythm. Her cloak fluttered in the evening wind.

  From the doorway of the house now washed in copper light, Ariani raised her hands to her mouth.

  “Be careful!”

  Mika lifted one hand in reply without looking back.

  She did not stop.

  The sky of Veralis dimmed.

  After a stretch of tree-lined path, Mika began to see the distant lights of Vel’farra’s capital.

  She turned into an alley where a modest inn sold milk at night, long after the market closed.

  But—

  The street was too quiet.

  What was usually lively with soft chatter and lantern-glow had turned hollow and still. No lamps burned. The wind carried no song.

  Only silence.

  As she ventured deeper, three silhouettes stood at the alley’s far end.

  Mika lowered her hood further and pulled her scarf higher over her face.

  Step by step.

  Her tail twitched—heart racing. Fur rose along her spine.

  Something was wrong.

  The silhouettes sharpened into three tomcats.

  Watching her.

  Mika kept her gaze lowered and quickened her pace.

  As she passed them, a heavy voice sounded near her shoulder.

  “Hmmm… young girl…”

  Sluuurp…

  Her fur bristled instantly.

  She hissed in warning.

  “Ouch… playing hard to get… hehehe…”

  Laughter echoed against the narrow walls.

  “Grab her,” the oldest ordered.

  “What?”

  Mika turned to run—

  But her hood was yanked backward.

  “Don’t run, little girl,” growled the large tom holding her cloak.

  Another claw tore away her scarf.

  Her face was exposed.

  The three tomcats fell silent for a heartbeat.

  Then slow grins spread across their faces.

  Jackpot.

  “Boss, let me—”

  “Shut up! Kidnap her!”

  Mika’s pupils narrowed.

  No. No. No—

  She struggled fiercely, twisting and clawing, trying to wrench free.

  Suddenly—

  Her neck jerked back.

  Thump!

  Her cloak was yanked hard, sending her crashing to the ground.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” whispered the old tom, crouching beside her.

  Her claws extended, slicing air. But her wrists were seized by the other two.

  “Please… don’t do this…” she hissed.

  A low purr rumbled from the old tom as he stroked her cheek.

  “Blame yourself… wrong place, wrong time…”

  Pain shot through her wrists as their grip tightened.

  Her thoughts raced.

  And in her heart, one name surfaced.

  Brother.

  “BROTHER! HELP ME!”

  Her scream ricocheted off the alley walls.

  The tomcats froze, glancing behind them.

  “Huh? Brother? Where?”

  For a split second, their hold loosened.

  Mika seized it.

  She tore free and kicked the old tom in the stomach.

  Ugh!

  He fell.

  “IDIOTS! DON’T LET HER ESCAPE!”

  Mika ran toward the forest.

  “Nesk! After her!”

  Nesk lunged, claws outstretched.

  She glanced back—

  Srek!

  His claws slashed her cheek, shredding her scarf.

  She stumbled but did not stop.

  One hand pressed to her bleeding face, she ran harder.

  Behind her, Nesk halted at the forest’s edge.

  On his claws—blood.

  Fur.

  And torn fabric.

  The small figure vanished into darkness—

  A cat-girl who only wanted a bottle of milk for her brother had escaped the jaws of night.

  She ran until her house came into view. She burst inside, closed the door, and fled to her room—sealing it without a word.

  Ariani rushed forward.

  “Mika? What happened? Mika!”

  Her paws trembled against the wood. She pressed her ear to the door—only silence and muffled sobs.

  Then—

  The front door opened again.

  Raian had returned.

  His fur was damp with sweat. Muscles aching from a day of training.

  But the peace he usually felt upon stepping home—

  Was gone.