Kaya noticed their looks and met them head-on. Then she narrowed her eyes and said, simply, "What?"

Her tone was flat. Dangerous.

That was enough.

No one spoke another word. They straightened and continued walking in silence.

It was only about a two-minute walk from there to the Tortoise Tribe’s settlement. The path itself was plain, almost deceptively so. But what stopped Kaya in her tracks were the houses.

A wall surrounded the settlement—not stone, not metal—but thick, carefully fitted wood. It wasn’t meant to intimidate. It was meant to declare presence.

People live here.

Inside, the houses were simple wooden structures, the kind one might see in old times. Every building stood at a single level, as if the concept of a second floor had never occurred to them—or perhaps was unnecessary.

They stopped before the main door.

Kaya knocked.

Two beastmen answered.

Kaya had always believed that beastmen resembled their animal forms to some degree—but the tortoises were on another level entirely. They barely looked human at all. More like something out of old legends.

They walked upright on two feet, thick shells still resting heavily on their backs. Their faces reminded Kaya of something from half-forgotten stories—river spirits, creatures whispered about in Japanese tales.

Kappa, she thought.

Standing there, solid and unmoving, they looked less like guards and more like living fortresses.

Kaya slipped out of her daze, clearly bored, and then spoke.

"Um... hello, dear esteemed sirs."

The moment the words left her mouth, Veer, Cutie, and even the sparrow stiffened.

Slowly—very slowly—they turned to look at her, as if they were witnessing a monster reveal its true form.

Both Veer and Cutie swallowed hard. The sparrow’s feathers puffed up in pure alarm.

They knew this tone.

Whenever Kaya spoke politely—softly, respectfully, sweetly—it was never a good sign. It always meant she wanted something. And not something small. Not something reasonable.

Right now, with this level of exaggerated respect, their eyes drifted instinctively to the Tortoise Tribe guards.

Poor souls.

In their hearts, they offered a silent prayer.

May their deaths be quick.

May they not suffer too much.

Because whatever Kaya was about to ask for...

it was going to be something so outrageous that it required manners.

The guards glanced at each other, then back at Kaya.

"What is it, child?" one of them asked. "You’re still young. What do you want?"

Kaya shook her head gently. "It’s nothing, my lord."

She turned slightly and gestured toward Veer. "This is my spouse. We’re traveling through the area, and since it’s getting a little dark, I thought we might take shelter here for the night."

Her tone was humble. Perfectly measured.

"If it’s inconvenient," she added smoothly, "we can leave right away."

The guards immediately shook their heads.

"Oh no, no, child," one said warmly. "Come inside."

Kaya smiled.

A beautiful, soft, harmless smile.

The guards felt their hearts ease. What a sweet child, they thought.

Behind her—

Veer clasped his hands together, eyes distant, silently praying to every god he could remember.

Cutie lowered his head, muttering his own quiet plea.

Even the sparrow shut his eyes, feathers trembling.

They all prayed with the same desperate sincerity.

Please... let us survive whatever she is planning.

Kaya had to admit one thing—this was the friendliest tribe she had ever encountered.

The moment she stepped inside the settlement, the air itself felt different. Unhurried. Calm. The Tortoise Tribe moved at a slow, steady pace, but it wasn’t the dull laziness of those who wasted their days away. It was deliberate, almost thoughtful. Some were repairing wooden beams, their thick fingers working carefully over the grain. Others carried baskets at an easy rhythm, chatting as they went, their voices low and relaxed. Soft laughter drifted through the air, unforced and genuine.

There was no tension here.

The houses were simple but well-kept, wooden walls smoothed by time rather than neglect. Thin wisps of smoke curled lazily from chimneys, carrying the warm scent of cooked grains and herbs. The ground beneath her feet was packed earth, worn smooth by years of steady footsteps.

Their faces caught her attention.

They didn’t resemble humans—not quite. Their features were rounded, almost carved, with a strange, toy-like quality that made them seem unreal at first glance. And yet, their eyes were kind. Curious. Alive. When they smiled, it felt honest, untouched by fear or calculation.

As Kaya entered alongside the guards, conversations paused.

Heads turned.

"Who is she?"

"Where did she come from?"

The questions weren’t sharp or suspicious—just curious murmurs passing from one tortoise to another. Kaya answered calmly, offering a simple version of the truth. A traveler. Passing through. Night approaching.

The moment her words settled, the mood shifted.

"Oh," someone said, smiling wider. "Then you must be tired."

Another gestured toward the center of the settlement. "Come. Eat with us."

Soon more voices joined in, overlapping gently. Someone pulled out stools. Someone else hurried off toward a cooking fire. The warmth of their welcome wrapped around Kaya like a slow tide, steady and sincere.

No hidden glances.

No guarded silence.

Just open hands and easy smiles.

Kaya took it in quietly, aware of how rare such a place was—and how unexpected it felt to be welcomed without question.

The meal was prepared without ceremony, yet everything about it felt intentional.

Low wooden tables were dragged closer together, their surfaces worn smooth by generations of use. Thick stools followed, placed with unhurried care. Someone laid out simple cloths, faded but clean, while another poured warm water into shallow bowls for washing hands. No one rushed. No one barked orders. Each movement flowed into the next as if this was a rhythm they all knew by heart.

Kaya sat when invited.

Veer settled beside her, shoulders stiff, eyes still scanning the surroundings out of habit. Cutie hopped down and took a place near Kaya’s feet, ears twitching as unfamiliar smells curled through the air. The sparrow remained on her shoulder, quiet for once, watching everything with sharp, glittering eyes.

Food arrived in stages.

Steamed roots, split open and drizzled with something buttery and fragrant. Bowls of thick soup, rich with herbs Kaya didn’t recognize, the surface shimmering faintly in the firelight. Flatbread—dense, warm, and slightly sweet—was placed within easy reach of everyone.

A tortoise elder chuckled softly. "Eat slowly," he said. "Food tastes better that way."

Kaya blinked.

Slowly?

She took a bite.

The flavor surprised her—not heavy, not overwhelming, but grounding. Warmth spread through her chest, the kind that settled rather than burned. Around her, the tortoises ate with quiet contentment, pausing to talk, to laugh, to offer another piece to someone else without a word.

No hierarchy.

No tension.

Just... togetherness.

Kaya’s gaze drifted, sharp eyes taking in details even as she ate. Children sat near the edges, shells smaller and lighter in color, listening more than speaking. Older tortoises moved less but were never ignored; plates were passed to them first, stools adjusted to their comfort. Respect here wasn’t loud—it was woven into habit.

Someone asked, gently, "Are you traveling far?"

"Far enough," Kaya replied.

That earned a few nods. No probing questions followed.

Veer noticed it too. His shoulders eased just a fraction. Cutie relaxed, paws tucked beneath him. Even the sparrow loosened his grip, feathers settling against Kaya’s collarbone.