That night, Syaoran sat at the edge of the mountain, lost in thought. How did I come to this world? The question echoed endlessly in his mind. Though everything around him—trees, rocks, even the scent in the wind—felt familiar, something was undeniably different.
Just then, a gentle tug on his sleeve brought him back to reality.
"What do you want?" he asked, his tone sharper than intended.
Fang stood there, rubbing her eyes. "I'm hungry~"
Syaoran sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Alright… I'll go find something. Stay here. Don't wander off."
Fang nodded and sat down, playing with blades of grass like a curious fox. Syaoran ventured into the forest, collecting wild fruits and catching a small animal for meat.
When he returned, he found Fang sprawled on the grass, basking in the night air.
"Here. Eat," he said, dropping the food beside her.
She eyed the raw meat and fruits, her nose wrinkling. "Are we… supposed to eat this raw? Can't you cook?"
Syaoran blinked, confused. "Cook? We eat everything raw."
Fang gasped and folded her arms. "What?! That's disgusting! You'll get sick. You really don't know how to cook?"
Syaoran frowned. "No. How do you cook it?"
Fang grinned slyly. "Bring me some stones."
"What? You want me to get them?"
She gave him a look. "Unless you want me to go alone?"
He stood frozen. No one—no one—had ever ordered the Wolf King around. But with a grunt, he turned and fetched the stones.
By the time he returned, Fang had already gathered sticks and arranged them neatly. She began striking the stones together.
"What are you doing?" he asked, watching curiously.
"Making a fire."
He smirked. "You're just banging rocks together. That's not going to—"
A spark caught. Flames danced up the wood.
Syaoran stepped back in shock. His kind summoned fire with magic—he had never seen it created like this.
Fang proudly skewered the meat and held it over the fire.
He reached toward the flame, only for Fang to slap his hand away. "Don't touch it! You'll burn yourself!"
Syaoran flinched. "Stop treating me like a kid!"
Fang rolled her eyes and offered him a piece once it was cooked. He took a reluctant bite—and froze.
The flavor exploded on his tongue. He chewed slowly, wide-eyed.
"Well?" Fang asked.
He nodded silently, too stunned to speak.
Fang grinned. "See? Cooked food is the best."
Syaoran quietly handed her his piece.
"Eat. You need strength more than I do," she said, pushing it back.
But he just kept staring at her. For the first time in a long while, he smiled.
---
Meanwhile, in his world, dawn was breaking.
Syaoran's warriors had spent the night scouring every inch of the mountains.
Finally, they rushed to the palace to report to the Queen—Syaoran's mother.
But something was wrong.
No trace of the king. No scent. No aura.
Only silence.
And the unsettling sense that something… or someone… had taken him far, far away.