The world had not changed.
Not in the way Lithe sometimes wished it would, peeling back the weight of familiarity to reveal something new, something different. The den was as it had always been, its walls pressing close, its corners untouched by light. She had curled herself into her usual space, where the ground was hard but known, where the chill of stone met the warmth of her skin. Outside, the wind whispered against the entrance, distant but steady, carrying the same muted chill she had felt every day before.
And yet, something was different.
A light.
One that should not be there.
That was Lithe’s first thought, wary and quiet. It wavered in her vision, too bright, too sharp, too persistent. A single point of brilliance pressing itself against her, pinpointing her face as though it had found her—chosen her.
Her ears twitched. She did not move.
Her siblings had pulled tricks before. Shadows against the walls, the soft scuttle of movement just beyond her reach, whispers where there should be silence. This could be another game, another cruel joke designed to startle her, to make her flinch. She should ignore it. If she did, surely it would go away.
But it didn’t.
Even when she turned, tucking herself smaller against the cold earth, she felt it linger. Saw it against the dark. When she flicked her gaze elsewhere, it followed, like it was watching.
Her breath came shallow. Her ribs ached with it.
The light did not listen.
A long moment passed before she moved. Slowly, hesitantly. A single paw stretching forward, testing the ground as though it might collapse beneath her. The light remained. It did not flicker out of existence like she half expected it to. It did not shift away. Instead, it seemed to brighten in a silent invitation.
Lithe swallowed. Her pulse thudded at the base of her throat. She did not want to follow. But she wanted to understand.
What are you?
The question swam through her mind, unspoken yet growing louder with each breath.
She pushed herself up.
Her legs felt unsteady, unwilling. The weight of hesitation clung to her, thick and heavy as she moved. But the light pulsed. It was waiting.
And then—she stepped forward.
The den’s threshold loomed, a line between what was safe and what waited beyond—where the world was open, where her littermates could find her. Where their eyes could land on her, where their teeth could follow.
She hesitated at the edge, and the light pulled, coaxing, beckoning.
So with one last breath, she stepped past it.
The ground beneath her shifted. The air changed.
And the world she had known was gone.
Not in the way Lithe sometimes wished it would, peeling back the weight of familiarity to reveal something new, something different. The den was as it had always been, its walls pressing close, its corners untouched by light. She had curled herself into her usual space, where the ground was hard but known, where the chill of stone met the warmth of her skin. Outside, the wind whispered against the entrance, distant but steady, carrying the same muted chill she had felt every day before.
And yet, something was different.
A light.
One that should not be there.
That was Lithe’s first thought, wary and quiet. It wavered in her vision, too bright, too sharp, too persistent. A single point of brilliance pressing itself against her, pinpointing her face as though it had found her—chosen her.
Her ears twitched. She did not move.
Her siblings had pulled tricks before. Shadows against the walls, the soft scuttle of movement just beyond her reach, whispers where there should be silence. This could be another game, another cruel joke designed to startle her, to make her flinch. She should ignore it. If she did, surely it would go away.
But it didn’t.
Even when she turned, tucking herself smaller against the cold earth, she felt it linger. Saw it against the dark. When she flicked her gaze elsewhere, it followed, like it was watching.
Her breath came shallow. Her ribs ached with it.
Go away,she said.
The light did not listen.
A long moment passed before she moved. Slowly, hesitantly. A single paw stretching forward, testing the ground as though it might collapse beneath her. The light remained. It did not flicker out of existence like she half expected it to. It did not shift away. Instead, it seemed to brighten in a silent invitation.
Lithe swallowed. Her pulse thudded at the base of her throat. She did not want to follow. But she wanted to understand.
What are you?
The question swam through her mind, unspoken yet growing louder with each breath.
She pushed herself up.
Her legs felt unsteady, unwilling. The weight of hesitation clung to her, thick and heavy as she moved. But the light pulsed. It was waiting.
And then—she stepped forward.
The den’s threshold loomed, a line between what was safe and what waited beyond—where the world was open, where her littermates could find her. Where their eyes could land on her, where their teeth could follow.
She hesitated at the edge, and the light pulled, coaxing, beckoning.
So with one last breath, she stepped past it.
The ground beneath her shifted. The air changed.
And the world she had known was gone.
arriving in 1-2 rounds!
![[Image: 3-by-nopeita-di8epxv.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/PfbwRdVq/3-by-nopeita-di8epxv.png)
