silent eida.

..

After she ate, the house grew quiet again, but it wasn't the uncomfortable kind of quiet like it usually was. Fox sat on the couch, curled up with her knees tucked to her chest, her tail wrapped around her legs. I still wasn't used to seeing someone with ears and a tail, but at this point, I wasn't questioning much. Too tired for that.

I watched her from the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do next. Should I call someone? The police? No, that was a bad idea. They'd take one look at her and... well, I wasn't sure what they'd do. Freak out, probably. I couldn't just send her back out into the rain either.

"Do you, uh, need anything?" I asked, stepping into the living room and sitting on the edge of the old recliner across from her. She looked up at me, her head tilting slightly. I don't think she understood the question. "Water? Blanket?"

Her eyes brightened at the word "blanket," and she nodded eagerly. That one, at least, she got. I grabbed one from the closet and draped it over her small frame. She immediately snuggled into it, letting out a soft, content sigh.

"Better?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. She gave me a tiny smile and closed her eyes, her body finally relaxing. I couldn't help but feel a little proud of myself for that, like I'd done something right for once.

As she settled in, I leaned back in the recliner, staring at the ceiling. What now? I still didn't know where she came from, and she clearly wasn't going to tell me—well, not in any way I could understand, at least. But it didn't feel right to push her. She looked exhausted, like she hadn't slept in days.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media. Same pointless crap, people posting about their perfect lives, showing off the highlights like everything was fine. It all felt so fake. I tossed the phone aside, letting it land somewhere on the couch.

Glancing over at Fox, I noticed she had already drifted off, her breathing slow and steady. Her ears twitched every so often, like she was still alert even in her sleep. I watched her for a while, feeling oddly protective of this girl who had literally stumbled into my life out of nowhere.

I didn't know what tomorrow would bring—hell, I didn't even know what the next hour would bring—but for now, she was safe. I could give her that much. Maybe it wasn't a lot, but it was something.

Time passed, and I lost track of how long I sat there. The rain had finally stopped outside, leaving everything quiet except for the occasional drip from the roof. I glanced at the clock—late, but not too late for me. Sleep wasn't exactly my friend these days. It was always either restless or nonexistent, like my brain didn't know how to shut off. Too many thoughts, too much weight pressing down on me.

I stood up, stretching out my stiff muscles, and moved to grab another blanket from the hall closet. Might as well get comfortable. But as I returned to the living room, I noticed something strange.

Fox was no longer on the couch.

I froze for a second, my heart pounding. Where the hell did she go? I hadn't heard her move, hadn't heard a sound. I scanned the room, looking for any sign of her. Nothing. The blanket was still there, crumpled where she had been lying just minutes ago.

"Fox?" I called out, my voice a little louder than before. No response.

I checked the front door—it was still locked. She hadn't left the house. My mind raced, running through all the possible places she could've gone. The bathroom? Upstairs?

I rushed up the stairs, my feet hitting the creaky wooden steps harder than usual. Reaching the top, I glanced down the dark hallway. "Fox?"

Then I saw it—a small flicker of movement from my room. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for me to see her small figure sitting on the floor by the window, staring out at the now-clearing sky.

Relief washed over me, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. She hadn't run off or disappeared. I pushed the door open gently, stepping inside. "Hey, you okay?" I asked softly, crouching beside her.

She didn't look at me right away. Her amber eyes were fixed on the stars just starting to peek through the clouds. I followed her gaze, feeling a weird sense of calm settle in the room. She seemed so peaceful, like she was lost in her own world, far away from here.

Finally, she glanced over at me, her ears lowering slightly. She said something again in that musical language of hers, her voice soft and sad. I didn't understand the words, but I could hear the meaning. She was lonely. Scared.

I nodded, not sure what else to say. "Yeah... I get it," I murmured, sitting down next to her. We sat there for a while, just looking at the stars. No words were needed. Just silence. It wasn't awkward, though. It felt...right.