The evening light filtered weakly into the room. Aira stirred awake, finding herself in the Sloth camp, lying on a cushion in the Sloth leader's room.
She turned to the left—shadows clung to the far corner, the silence almost suffocating.
Then she turned to the right, and there he was: the Sloth leader, lazily sprawled on a couch, crunching on an apple with no urgency in his movements.
Aira hesitated, her lips parting as if to speak. Just as she was about to ask, "How am I here?"
The Sloth leader interrupted, his voice dragging with indifference:
"What were you doing with that reckless stray?"
She tried to form an answer, but his heavy sigh cut her off again.
"Don't get involved with him," he muttered, the words stretched with sluggish warning. "He's nothing but a storm waiting to d
