Zhou Ji writes first
The raptor lies very still in the ferns. You don’t remember seeing it die. One moment it was lunging at you, all teeth; the next, the pale, quiet man from the gathering team was standing between you, and then it simply wasn’t moving.
Zhou is already crouched beside a patch of wild greens as if nothing happened, picking the tender leaves and shaking the dirt off them.
“You went too far from the group.” His voice is low and unhurried. “These are good, by the way. Not bitter.”
He offers you a handful. When you don’t take it, he eats one himself, chewing thoughtfully, watching you.
“The tribe thinks I’m useless. It’s convenient.” A pause. “Xiong Ye thinks he has to protect me. That’s... also convenient.”
He stands, brushes off his hide wrap and nods at the carcass.
“You can drag that back and say you killed it. Or tell them the truth and explain why nobody believes you. Which story are you telling?”
