Kaya waited. And waited. And waited some more. The woman still didn't move—not a word, not even a twitch. After twenty long minutes of staring into those wide, unblinking eyes, Kaya's own eyes were tearing up. She finally let out a helpless laugh, smiling awkwardly as she backed away.
"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples. How do these people even thrive? Seriously. Is it just because they're beasts, so they inherit every weird trait along with it? Whatever.
Still mumbling to herself, she wandered off, half-annoyed, half-bewildered—until suddenly, her foot sank into something soft and squishy.
She froze. Slowly, she looked down.
Her eyes went wide.
Her foot was planted right on the face of a capybara. A real, full-form capybara—blinking up at her with the same patient, soul-piercing stare as the woman from before.
Kaya almost screamed.
