But now, even a vulture—a dead-body-eating, bone-picking creature—was mocking her hair. Wow. Kaya almost laughed at the irony, though it felt bitter in her chest.
When she bent down to wash her hands, she scrubbed hard, letting the water run over her knuckles. She also washed off that strange ornament. She didn't know what it was—whether it was medicine, poison, or something that could slip into her mouth and harm her. Better to get rid of it.
But as the water cleared, her eyes widened. She froze, staring at her hand.
The ornament had dissolved away completely… but her skin—her knuckles—looked whole. Healed.
Her breath hitched. Slowly, Kaya moved her fingers, then clenched her fist and released it. Again. And again. No pain.
She touched the skin, pressed down on the knuckles where the flesh had been torn raw just hours ago. Nothing. Not even a sting. It wasn't just the surface—it felt as though the wound had knitted itself from the inside out, leaving behind no scar, no trace.
