The world was wrong.
Lithe knew it the moment she stepped past the threshold.
She had expected the night’s familiar chill, the hush of wind through the trees. Instead, the silence split apart with a deafening roar. The sky cracked open, white-hot lightning carving jagged wounds into the darkness, and the ground beneath her paws was no longer hard-packed earth. It was damp. Soft. Wrong.
The light was gone.
It had pulled her here, lured her out, and then abandoned her.
Her breath hitched. The cold was different here, thick and heavy, curling through the air like unseen fingers pressing into her skin. A dull weight settled in her chest, something quieter than fear but just as hungry. She was alone.
She had been alone before. But never like this.
Rain lashed against her fur. Every flicker of lightning revealed new, distorted shapes in the dark—grass bending beneath the wind’s breath, the outline of something larger looming in the distance. A tree. It was the only thing that existed with certainty in this shifting world, a dark silhouette against the storm.
Something moved.
Small. Sharp. Purposeful.
Lithe stilled, ribs rising and falling in shallow breaths. Through the downpour, she caught a glimpse of something hopping forward, unconcerned by the storm, drawn toward the tree as if it belonged there. Too small to be one of her brothers. But moving with intent all the same.
She should not follow.
She should tuck herself into the grass, small and unseen, and wait for this place to spit her back out.
But then—
The light returned.
It struck her face like a second flash of lightning, too close, too sharp, pinning her where she stood. She recoiled, ears flattening, but the light did not let up. It pressed against her, relentless, finding her no matter how she flinched away.
It was waiting.
It was watching.
And it would not let her go.
A tremor crawled through her limbs. Her breath stuttered. She did not want to go.
But the light did not care.
The longer she hesitated, the brighter it burned. It hovered, unwavering, until she took a step forward. Only then did it relent, slipping back through the rain, drifting toward the tree.
Lithe swallowed.
Drenched and shivering, she moved.
One step. Then another.
She followed.
Lithe knew it the moment she stepped past the threshold.
She had expected the night’s familiar chill, the hush of wind through the trees. Instead, the silence split apart with a deafening roar. The sky cracked open, white-hot lightning carving jagged wounds into the darkness, and the ground beneath her paws was no longer hard-packed earth. It was damp. Soft. Wrong.
The light was gone.
It had pulled her here, lured her out, and then abandoned her.
Her breath hitched. The cold was different here, thick and heavy, curling through the air like unseen fingers pressing into her skin. A dull weight settled in her chest, something quieter than fear but just as hungry. She was alone.
She had been alone before. But never like this.
Rain lashed against her fur. Every flicker of lightning revealed new, distorted shapes in the dark—grass bending beneath the wind’s breath, the outline of something larger looming in the distance. A tree. It was the only thing that existed with certainty in this shifting world, a dark silhouette against the storm.
Something moved.
Small. Sharp. Purposeful.
Lithe stilled, ribs rising and falling in shallow breaths. Through the downpour, she caught a glimpse of something hopping forward, unconcerned by the storm, drawn toward the tree as if it belonged there. Too small to be one of her brothers. But moving with intent all the same.
She should not follow.
She should tuck herself into the grass, small and unseen, and wait for this place to spit her back out.
But then—
The light returned.
It struck her face like a second flash of lightning, too close, too sharp, pinning her where she stood. She recoiled, ears flattening, but the light did not let up. It pressed against her, relentless, finding her no matter how she flinched away.
It was waiting.
It was watching.
And it would not let her go.
A tremor crawled through her limbs. Her breath stuttered. She did not want to go.
But the light did not care.
The longer she hesitated, the brighter it burned. It hovered, unwavering, until she took a step forward. Only then did it relent, slipping back through the rain, drifting toward the tree.
Lithe swallowed.
Drenched and shivering, she moved.
One step. Then another.
She followed.
arriving next round!
![[Image: 3-by-nopeita-di8epxv.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/PfbwRdVq/3-by-nopeita-di8epxv.png)
