The lizard didn't hesitate.
It bent its legs—
Then leapt.
A light, controlled motion. No wasted force. No panic.
It cleared the short distance with ease and landed gently atop the fox's head, its claws barely pressing into soft fur.
Balanced.
Steady.
Its newly grown ears twitched once, then again—mapping the space from this slightly elevated vantage point.
The fox froze.
"…Excuse me?"
Its eyes crossed upward, trying to glimpse the small weight now perched squarely between its ears.
The lizard adjusted its footing, settling comfortably as if this had always been the intended arrangement.
From here, the echoes were cleaner.
Broader.
Less interference from ground vibration.
More efficient.
The fox blinked slowly.
"…Shouldn't it be the other way around?" it muttered dryly. "Aren't you the one who just broke through?"
Its tail flicked once.
"I'm the one coughing blood."
It shifted slightly and winced as its ribs protested the movement.
"And somehow I'm the one being used as transportation?"
The lizard remained silent, fully focused.
It released a soft, controlled click.
The sound expanded outward, rippling through trees and stone before returning in structured layers.
Clear.
The cave's location was confirmed.
West. Slight incline. No large life signatures nearby.
Efficient route mapped.
From atop the fox's head, the lizard spoke calmly:
"You're injured."
A small pause.
"I can guide."
The fox let out a quiet, disbelieving huff.
"…Unbelievable."
It rose slowly to its feet. Its muscles trembled, but they held.
"So I nearly die protecting you," it muttered as it began moving in the direction the lizard indicated, "and now I get promoted."
Its voice wasn't truly annoyed.
Just tired.
"And you," it added, glancing upward as much as its strained neck allowed, "grow ears while blind and suddenly become a navigator."
The lizard's ears twitched again.
Wind speed measured.
Ground slope calculated through returning echoes.
Clear path confirmed.
The fox snorted softly.
"…Fine."
It adjusted its balance and began walking west, paws careful against uneven stone.
"But if I trip because you misjudge something—"
It winced mid-step but kept moving.
"I'm blaming the student."
The lizard didn't react.
It simply mapped.
"Left," it said quietly from above.
The fox adjusted without complaint.
"Three steps forward. There's a dip."
The fox stepped cleanly over it.
Despite its injuries, they made good time. The cave entrance soon came into view—a shallow opening naturally carved into the rocky hillside. From a distance, it appeared unremarkable.
Shielded.
Stable.
Safe.
The fox slowed as they approached.
"…Not bad," it muttered. "You really can map this place."
The lizard didn't answer.
Its ears twitched.
Then stilled.
Then twitched again—sharper this time.
It released a faint, controlled click.
The echo traveled farther than before.
Past the cave mouth.
Past the trees beyond.
And returned—
Layered.
Structured.
Not natural.
The lizard went completely still.
"There are structures," it said calmly.
The fox stopped mid-step.
"…Structures?"
The lizard focused again.
Wood.
Angled beams.
Repeated spacing.
Hollow chambers aligned in rows.
Movement.
Footsteps.
Voices.
Metal striking metal faintly in the distance.
"…Humans," the lizard concluded. "A human settlement."
The fox's eyes narrowed.
It shifted slightly to peer past the trees.
And there—
Beyond a sparse line of rock and brush—
Smoke curled faintly into the sky.
Low buildings clustered together.
A small settlement.
Not large.
But active.
The fox's tail flicked slowly.
"…That complicates things."
It stepped back into partial cover behind a jutting slab of stone.
"We need shelter," it murmured. "But if this cave is near a settlement…"
Its gaze sharpened.
"Then cultivators."
Even minor clans stationed scouts near outer villages.
The fox glanced toward the cave again.
Then toward the faint smoke rising in the distance.
Its breathing was heavier now.
It didn't have the strength for another confrontation.
The lizard adjusted its stance atop the fox's head.
Silence lingered between them.
The fox's lips curled faintly despite everything.
Its gaze hardened as it continued watching the thin curl of smoke rising beyond the trees.
A village.
Small.
Active.
Alive.
It was quiet for a long moment.
Then it exhaled slowly.
"…Actually," it muttered, shifting its weight carefully, "a village might be better."
The lizard's ears twitched.
"Better than a cave," the fox continued. "Roofs. Walls. Warmth."
A faint smirk tugged at its blood-stained mouth.
"And if I'm going to rest… I'd rather do it on a bed."
It reached up and lightly adjusted the lizard's footing before lowering its head slightly.
"I nearly died today," it added dryly. "I deserve something comfortable."
The lizard said nothing, but its ears angled toward the distant settlement.
The fox's expression turned thoughtful.
"I'd normally use an illusion," it muttered. "Slip in. Blend with the crowd. Leave before dawn."
A pause.
Its eyes dimmed faintly.
"…But not right now."
Its spiritual channels were strained. Illusion weaving required precision. Stability.
It couldn't risk destabilizing itself further.
Instead—
It reached into its pouch.
From within, it withdrew a small, smooth pill—dense and faintly shimmering with condensed essence.
An Essence Condensing Pill.
"Good thing I have enough of these," it murmured.
It studied it briefly.
"This should be enough."
Without hesitation, it tossed the pill into its mouth and swallowed.
For a brief moment—
Nothing.
Then—
Its aura shifted.
Compressed.
Redirected inward rather than expanded outward.
The fox's body trembled slightly as energy circulated through its meridians, reorganizing structure rather than increasing cultivation.
Fur receded gradually, dissolving into threads of spiritual light.
Limbs lengthened.
Spine straightened.
Bones adjusted with quiet, controlled pops.
The tail withdrew into nothingness.
Ears reshaped.
Claws softened into fingers.
In the span of several measured breaths—
The fox was gone.
In its place stood a young human figure.
Pale from blood loss.
Long dark hair fell loosely over narrow shoulders.
Sharp turquoise eyes remained—calculating, watchful, predatory beneath restraint.
There was still a faint wildness in that gaze.
It swayed slightly and caught itself against a nearby stone, steadying its breathing.
"…Works," it muttered under its breath, flexing its fingers experimentally.
The transformation wasn't illusion.
It was structural mimicry sustained by condensed essence.
More stable.
Less taxing.
But temporary.
It glanced down at the lizard.
"You'll stay the same," it said quietly. "It's easier that way."
Its gaze shifted toward the village again.
"We go in as travelers."
A faint smile formed—thin, controlled.
"Injured travelers."
It adjusted its posture, suppressing its aura as much as possible, smoothing the wild edges of its presence into something smaller. Weaker. Harmless.
Then, without another word, it began walking toward the settlement.
Toward light.
Toward people.
Toward risk—
But also toward rest.