4/13/2025, 5:00 AM
The air changed before the ground did. It clung to her like damp breath, warm and heavy, filling her nose with sweetness that made her teeth hurt. It was nothing like the Spine—too soft, too thick, too much. She didn’t know words for things like "wrong," not really. But her skin knew it. Her fur stood where it shouldn’t. Her belly twisted without cause.
She kept walking anyway.
His voice cut the stillness. Sharp at first—what the fuck?—but then…
Lithe ...
She stopped.
The way he said her name made her ears twitch. Not pinned back. Not braced. Just ... confused. He had never said it like that before. Calm. Like it belonged to someone he didn’t hate.
She didn’t turn to look at him.
The trees moved ahead of her. Slowly. Breathing. The blossoms spilled light onto her back, tinting her pale fur with colors that had never been there before. The grass beneath her paws shimmered faintly. It didn’t feel real.
Something about the scent clawed deeper now. Sweet, yes, but hollow. Familiar in a way she didn’t like. It reminded her of the den when their father used to sleep in it—distant and silent and full of things she wasn’t allowed to touch. Of the way his eyes would slide past her like she was already gone.
This place smelled like that. Or tried to.
The wrong kind of welcome.
She didn’t speak. The silence stretched long between them as the petals danced overhead, weightless and unbothered.
She kept walking anyway.
His voice cut the stillness. Sharp at first—what the fuck?—but then…
Lithe ...
She stopped.
The way he said her name made her ears twitch. Not pinned back. Not braced. Just ... confused. He had never said it like that before. Calm. Like it belonged to someone he didn’t hate.
She didn’t turn to look at him.
The trees moved ahead of her. Slowly. Breathing. The blossoms spilled light onto her back, tinting her pale fur with colors that had never been there before. The grass beneath her paws shimmered faintly. It didn’t feel real.
Something about the scent clawed deeper now. Sweet, yes, but hollow. Familiar in a way she didn’t like. It reminded her of the den when their father used to sleep in it—distant and silent and full of things she wasn’t allowed to touch. Of the way his eyes would slide past her like she was already gone.
This place smelled like that. Or tried to.
The wrong kind of welcome.
She didn’t speak. The silence stretched long between them as the petals danced overhead, weightless and unbothered.
![[Image: 3-by-nopeita-di8epxv.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/PfbwRdVq/3-by-nopeita-di8epxv.png)
