Yuki. A name meaning "snow." Fitting. It was born from a croak and a blizzard, just like she was.
She scraped the bowl clean, licking it as if she were still a fox. Then she stared at her long, thin fingers, bending and unbending them, studying her new form with bizarre curiosity and slight apprehension.
Azrael watched silently. Dozens of questions swirled in his head, but he suppressed them at birth. She already resembled a cornered animal, ready to dart into a dark corner or flee at any moment.
— Yuki, — he said aloud, trying out the name.
She flinched and looked up at him. Nodded, confirming.
— Do you... understand me?
Another nod. More confident. Her intellect was obviously fine. The problem was with speech.
— Can you not speak?
She shook her head, then touched her throat and winced, trying to make any sound. Only a silent movement of her lips and a hoarse exhale came out. Apparently, the vocal cords created by magic weren't ready yet. Or the entire transformation process had taken too much energy.
Azrael sighed. The situation had become more complicated. Now he wasn't responsible for a battle-ready beast, but a fragile teenage girl who couldn't even call for help. And who, apparently, had absolutely no idea what to do with herself.
He stood up and walked over to Viktor's chest. The old hunter had been short and lean. His clothing supplies were meager, but something should fit. He found a worn but clean shirt made of coarse fabric and pants that had been baggy on him but should fit Yuki.
— Here, — he handed her the clothes. — Put them on. You'll get cold.
She sniffed the fabric, then looked at him in confusion. Had no idea what to do with it.
— Gods... — Azrael whispered. — Okay. Watch.
He took his jacket, showed her how to put her arms through the sleeves. Yuki watched with utmost concentration, her fox-like eyes absorbing every movement. Then she cautiously began to dress herself. The process was slow and comical—she got tangled in the sleeves, tried to put both legs into one pant leg—but eventually, she managed, sitting in a pile of fabric with a triumphant look.
She looked ridiculous, but was no longer helplessly naked. The next problem was footwear. Viktor's boots were clearly too big for her. He had to wrap rags around her feet and stuff them into the boot shafts. Walking in them was impossible, but it would do for moving around the cabin.
— Now listen, — Azrael said, squatting in front of her. — Everything has changed. Before, you could stand up for yourself. Now... now I'm responsible for you. Until you learn. The rules are simple: do what I say, don't go far, and don't go where you shouldn't. Understood?
Yuki listened attentively, her head slightly tilted to the side, exactly like when she was a fox. She nodded. Her eyes showed not submission, but understanding. Acceptance of the new order of things.
She reached out and touched the back of his hand with her fingers—the same gesture she used to nudge his palm with her nose, demanding affection or food.
Old instincts. New form.
Azrael slowly turned his hand and squeezed her fingers in his palm. Her hand was small and cold.
— Together, — he said quietly. — We'll survive together.
Yuki responded with a silent nod, squeezing his fingers in return. Their strange alliance had taken on a new, completely unexpected form. The System's plaything and a former beast. Now they had to learn to be human. Or at least pretend to be.
***
He let go of her hand, and she immediately pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around them as if trying to curl into a familiar, compact ball. It didn't work well—her long, unruly limbs got in the way.
— Sit. Be quiet, — Azrael commanded, returning to the table and his plans.
He took the pencil and drew a firm line under all the previous items with a firm hand. The old plans were dead. New ones were born.
**GOALS (UPDATED)**
* *~~Survive.~~* -> *Survive TOGETHER.*
* *Train Yuki.*
* *Figure out WHAT SHE IS.*
* *Find her proper clothes and shoes.*
* *Teach her to speak (???)*
The last item raised the most questions. How do you teach someone to speak who, just yesterday, could only yap and whimper? This smelled like tasks for long weeks, if not months.
Yuki, meanwhile, didn't stay put. Making sure Azrael was absorbed in his thoughts, she carefully, on unsteady legs, stood up. Took a first step, swayed, and grabbed the back of a chair to avoid falling. Her body remembered the grace of a beast but didn't know the balance of a bipedal creature. It was both pitiful and amusing to watch—like a teenager taking their first steps, but with the concentration of an adult walking a tightrope over an abyss.
She made her way to the stove and pressed against the warm stone, closing her eyes and emitting a quiet, silent purr of pleasure. Then her gaze fell on the bowl. She picked it up, licked it clean (her tongue was, fortunately, human), and began sniffing the table, clearly looking for more food.
Azrael watched this out of the corner of his eye, not letting on. Her behavior was a hybrid of human and animal. She understood complex commands but acted on basic instincts. It was... strange. And dangerous.
Suddenly, she froze, staring into the corner where her former fur lay. She walked over to it, bent down (this time barely swaying), and touched the silvery fur with her hand. A shadow of longing and bewilderment crossed her face. She picked up the fur, pressed it to her face, inhaled the familiar scent... and froze for a few seconds.
Then her shoulders jerked in a silent sob. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was crying. Quietly, childishly, for her past, for her lost form, for everything that had happened so suddenly and irreversibly.
Azrael watched this, feeling an awkward helplessness. Comforting people wasn't among his skills. Killing—was. Surviving—was. But this...
He stood up, walked over to her, and silently placed a hand on her head. Just like he did when she was a fox. Yuki flinched, then pressed against his palm, still crying silently.
— It's alright, — he muttered awkwardly. — You'll get used to it.
She looked at him with tear-filled blue eyes, full of a question he had no answer to. Then she poked a finger at his chest, then at her own, and spread her hands in a questioning gesture.
*"Why? Why is this happening to us?"*
— I don't know, — Azrael answered honestly. — But we'll get through it. I promise.
The promise was given with the same ease as a vow thrown to the wind. But for Yuki, it seemed to be enough. She wiped her face with the sleeve of the coarse shirt, picked up her old fur again, and after looking at Azrael with a silent question, carried it to the corner and neatly folded it, making a sort of bed. Old habits died hard.
She returned to the stove, sat on the floor, tucking her legs in the ridiculous boots underneath her, and stared into the fire. Her posture now held not an animalistic, but an almost human pensiveness.
Azrael returned to his list. He crossed out the old item "Find a stable food source" and wrote a new one, with a firm underline:
***STOCKPILE FOOD. TWICE AS MUCH.***
The blizzard had ended. They could go out soon. And his hunt would now have a completely different purpose.