Divided

Fight

Hiii:)

Caterina's POV

"Y am' perte," I say, carefully shaping the unfamiliar word. Ajia's face lights up with a proud smile.

"Yes! Good job!" she praises me, her tone warm and encouraging.

"That's how you say 'I'm sorry,'" she explains, and I nod, repeating the word in my mind.

We're sitting together on my bed, our legs crossed as we talk. Ajia is teaching me new words and gestures that supernaturals do. She shows me how to move my hands, how to tilt my head in ways that feel strange but important.

Then, a loud bird cry cuts through the air, echoing in the stillness of my room. Ajia and I both freeze, turning instinctively toward the open window. A shadow flutters by, its wings casting an eerie silhouette against the dimming sky.

Zythyn?

"What are you doing here?" Ajia demands, her hand shooting out to grab the bird by its small, fluttering form.

I glance at the bird, still perched on the windowsill, and shrug. "Zythyn has been following me for a couple of days," I say softly. His keen eyes meet mine, and I notice the small, thoughtful tilt of his head.

He's been leaving little gifts for me—twigs, leaves, and other oddments—almost like he's trying to tell me something, or maybe just share what he finds.

Ajia seems unfazed by his presence. "He has something for you," she says with a knowing look, pulling Zythyn forward and nudging him in front of me.

I stretch my hand out cautiously, palm open. The bird hesitates for just a moment, then gently places a small object into my hand. I glance down to find a simple twig, rough and knotted, its edges worn smooth from being carried.

"A twig?" Ajia says, her voice laced with disbelief as she inspects the object in my hand. She looks at me, puzzled, before glancing back at Zythyn, who seems oddly proud of his offering.

"Gra tou, Zythyn," (thank you) I say softly, my voice gentle as I pet the bird's head, my fingers brushing the smoothness of his feathers. He seems to appreciate the gesture, closing his eyes for a moment under my touch.

Ajia raises an eyebrow, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Out of all the things you could've brought... you brought a twig?" Her tone is teasing, but there's a hint of fondness behind her words.

I can't help it—quiet laughter bubbles up from me. Like weight lifting for a moment, as I watch Zythyn, who seems completely unbothered by her comment.

In response, Zythyn lets out a sharp cry, almost like he's talking back to her. The sound is raspy but surprisingly expressive, as if he's defending his choice with the confidence of a much larger creature.

Ajia carefully places Zythyn on the bed's frame, and he hops onto the wooden surface with a soft flutter of his wings. He settles there, watching us with sharp, observant eyes, as if he's part of the lesson now too.

Ajia turns back to me, her hands moving in smooth, deliberate motions as she shows me more words and gestures. She demonstrates the way to raise a hand in greeting, the tilt of the head that's often used in apology, and how to gesture with open palms when offering something to another. Each movement is fluid, graceful, and foreign to me, but I try my best to mimic her.

Zythyn watches closely, his head tilting as if he's taking it all in. I catch his gaze a few times, and it's almost like he's studying me too. I can't help but smile at the thought.