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Odessa stayed exactly where he’d left her.
Mostly because she didn’t trust her legs… and partly because something inside her, some deep quivering instinct, told her that running was pointless. That this place didn’t bend to her anymore — she was a stranger in her own skin and a stranger in this world.

But gods, the silence he left behind was heavy.

She sank onto her haunches the moment he was gone, shoulders trembling from the sudden vacuum of warmth and presence. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs. It’s okay, she whispered to herself, hardly believing it. He’s helping. He said he’d help.

The lilac blooms around her shifted in the breeze, brushing against her paws. She closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath—

—and choked when the petals’ scent struck her.
Her vision blurred, a strange wave of vertigo tightening across her skull. It felt almost like a memory… or a warning… or nothing at all. She couldn’t tell anymore.

Get up, some quiet part of her whispered. Move. Something’s wrong.

But her body stayed curled in the flowers, trembling too hard to obey.

When Abaddon finally returned, the sound of his paws crushing the earth made her flinch violently. Her head jerked up, lilac eyes wide, breath hitching in her throat—until she saw his face. That smile. That strange spark in his eyes. The fox dangling from his jaws.

Her terror softened. It wasn't gone, just folding itself smaller insude her chest as she blinked at him.

He placed the creature at her feet and stepped back, and Odessa stared down at the red-and-white bundle, her breath coming shallow and uneven. The fox’s body was small… too small… and something in her chest pinched sharply at the sight. Tears brimmed before she could stop them.

A sick, quiet feeling crawled up her throat — revulsion, sharp and cold — not at him, but at the thought of eating the fox. She had expected something gentle… a rabbit, maybe. Something soft. Something that didn’t look like this. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she kept her expression steady, desperate not to offend him.

Don’t show it, her mind pleaded. Don’t let him see. Another whisper of intuition flickered beneath her ribs, quick as lightning: Be careful.

She clenched her paws in the flowers.

Oh… The word cracked in the air as she swallowed. You… you really hunted for me.

Her voice trembled with gratitude and grief tangled together—she didn’t know how to separate them anymore.

Thank you, she whispered, and this time the words shook enough to betray her heart. I… I don’t know what to say. I’ve never eaten like this before. She looked at him, eyes wet and shimmering. It’s kind of you. Truly.

Her gaze drifted toward the fox again, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. But… how do I eat it? Odessa was used to silver platters and utensils with human hands to eat it with. The concept of using her teeth and jaws to chew raw, bloody meat that had always been cooked before being served to her was a foreign one.

She nudged the fox gently, reverently, as though apologizing to the small life that had been taken for her sake. Tears slipped down her cheek, catching in her fur for a reason completely unaware even to her.

How weak and helpless she was.

Her eyes lifted to him—wide and wounded, trusting him because she didn’t know who else there was.

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