Vaelora was slower than usual, thanks to the gnarly-looking wounds she had acquired in the aftermath of the End of the World. A lattice of lacerations coated the once pristine look of white along her right hind leg. She’d spy them every now and again, sending a wayward glance toward her backside, to see the assortment of cuts that now were in the Ugly Stage of healing. They tightened along the restitching of skin, and each time she moved, it felt as if the newly grown skin were ripping all over again.

It bothered her, but not as much as one would think.

If anything, it was her inability to race forward, run, and be fast that troubled her most. But perhaps, she didn’t need to run with Nate around. An idle thought, and one she didn’t quite give too much time to think on.

Instead, she followed behind him. Through the weird tunnel that made her hair stand on end, and through the forests and trees, she barely recognized. The world had transformed into a valley of green, with a shining sun and stars to match. Vastly different from the doom and gloom she had grown accustomed to.

Another thing that had obviously changed was that now, if she focused her eyes long enough, she swore she could spot a blue mist following behind her. At first, she had tried to bite it. A terrible idea, considering the restriction in her mobility—each time she had, she would inevitably rip open her healing wound all over again.

It’s probably why it was taking that much longer to heal.

She didn’t understand it—what had happened to her, or what was now following behind her. And a part of her worried about how it would affect her hunger once the voices started up again…

But she had digressed from the thought the moment she had seen Nate’s bird also wear the wispy blues.

Then she had thought of eating him ( Ko-Ga).

Vaelora trailed behind Nate as they entered the familiar field of purple blue flowers; this time, their little valley was more beautiful than Vaelora had given it credit. But as he howled, she remained quiet. She had watched his group from afar, but really had only ever interacted with Nate.

Nate was safe.

The others?

She often gave them a wide berth.

Vaelora settled into a seat a few feet away from Nate, as a crimson stare of hers narrowed quietly into the early morning dawn. Another had come out, eyes cast across Nate’s newly formed scars (which were also ugly like Vaelora’s, but Nate was not), and asked what had happened.

He saved the world. She croaked from behind Nate, perhaps the very first sentence she had ever spoken to the others Nate called friends.