The snow was falling heavier now, each flake stinging against Ayunda’s flushed cheeks. Her breaths came in short, shallow puffs, the icy air biting at her lungs. The shouts behind her had faded into the wind, but the pounding in her chest wouldn’t stop — not from the running, but from the fear. Her squirrel tail dragged, heavy with frost, and her ears drooped low, trembling.

Her legs felt weaker with every step, the cold sinking deep into her bones. The dim outline of a cabin emerged in the white haze, its chimney sending a thin ribbon of smoke into the sky. Warmth. Shelter. Safety. She staggered toward it, but before her hand could touch the door, darkness closed in.

When she woke, the world was quiet. The steady crackle of a fireplace filled the room, and a thick blanket cocooned her in warmth. The air smelled faintly of herbs and something savory — soup. Her eyes fluttered open fully, and she saw her. A girl stood by the stove, stirring a small pot, the glow of the fire outlining her figure in gold.

Ayunda’s ears twitched instinctively, and the movement caught the girl’s attention. Their eyes met — gentle, curious, but unreadable. Ayunda sat up slowly, still dazed. She didn’t know who this stranger was, or if she was safe here. But the girl didn’t speak right away. Instead, she ladled the soup into a bowl, walked over, and knelt beside the bed.

“You’re awake,” she said softly, her voice a calm contrast to the storm outside. She held out the steaming bowl, the scent making Ayunda’s stomach ache with hunger. “Eat. You were freezing.”

Ayunda froze. Her hands tightened around the blanket, tail curling against her legs. She didn’t move to take the bowl. What if it was poisoned? What if this girl knew exactly who she was — the “cursed witch” everyone hated — and this kindness was just a way to finish the job?

Her ears flattened. “...Why are you helping me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The girl didn’t flinch. “Because you looked like you were about to die.” She set the bowl on the small table beside the bed, as if to say the choice was hers. “Eat it, or don’t. But it’s warm.”

Ayunda’s stomach growled, but she pulled the blanket tighter around herself, eyes fixed on the steam curling from the soup. Warm… but maybe deadly.

And yet… the way the girl had spoken didn’t sound like someone hiding malice.

It was just so hard to believe.