Kaya sat down on the cold stone floor, her back pressed against the damp cave wall. Her breathing was still uneven, her heart still pounding from the chase, but she forced herself to listen.
Nothing.
The howling had stopped. The slithering sounds that had haunted them through the forest were gone. Even the distant echoes of movement—the scraping of claws, the rustle of scales—had faded into an eerie, stunned silence.
She waited, taking deep breaths, counting the seconds in her head. One minute passed. Then five. Then ten.
Slowly, carefully, an hour crawled by.
Kaya remained perfectly still, straining her ears for any sound that didn't belong. But there was nothing. Just the steady drip of water somewhere deeper in the cave, the faint whistle of wind through unseen cracks, and the quiet breathing of Veer and Cutie behind her.
