Baby Squirrel Is Good at Everything

"…Me?"

It must have been an unexpected question, as Carl's response came half a beat late—something uncharacteristic of him.

"Well, of course… always…"

"…"

Despite being the one to ask the strange question, the sleepy little sprout had already drifted off to another world.

Watching that peaceful face, Carl fell into rare contemplation.

"Did I treat her well?"

Tilting his head in doubt, the boy traced back to when he first started paying attention to this little Tailfur.

***

Monotony.

That was the word that best described his life before.

"A lion pushes its cub off a cliff."

The Aslan family's training was notoriously harsh, likened to the lion in that phrase—whispered behind closed doors, gaining infamy throughout the kingdom.

When Carl first heard it, he simply let out a short—

"Hmph."

Then, without another word, he turned away.

His subordinate, unsatisfied with the indifferent response, clung to him, pestering him until Carl finally gave an answer.

"It’s a lie."

"…What? Really?"

Ignoring the disillusioned subordinate’s whining, Carl thought to himself.

"Instead, they send us to war."

Born in the north, a land bordering countless enemy nations, it was only natural.

War was a way of life. Battle was as routine as breathing.

But Carl didn't particularly mind that life.

"Kuaagh! It's him again!"

"Run! That lunatic bathes his head in blood!"

After exerting his body to the fullest, the prey scattered wherever his blade pointed.

"Khhhk, don’t come closer! Stay back! You monster!"

And the thrill of chasing them down, slicing their throats—it was an enjoyable routine.

"Y-you’ve returned!"

"Thank you for your hard work, Young Master."

But the sensation of warm blood soaking his skin lasted only for a moment.

The warmth he had found pleasant quickly turned sticky and inconvenient as it clotted. And the soldiers who looked at him had that familiar glint of fear in their eyes.

"Hmph."

Well, it didn’t matter.

As long as he remained strong, fear was the natural response.

"Still… it's a little boring."

Everything alive fell into one of two categories before him—those who cowered and obeyed, and those who were terrified but still fought back.

There were no exceptions.

…Until Tailfur came along.

"Carl, Brother?"

A world divided into enemies and allies.

A boy's world, so unnaturally clear-cut, had its first fracture when a girl appeared.

Tap, tap, tap.

At some point, he began hearing the sound of small footsteps following him.

"Hmph."

If she was trying to be stealthy, she had failed miserably.

The moment he turned around and approached her mischievously—

"Would you like to go ahead first? I was just heading to the garden."

"The garden is in the opposite direction."

"…Ahem! Is that so? I didn't realize. Thank you."

She feigned composure, as if she hadn’t been caught.

But what was the point? She could press her lips together all she wanted, yet her rolling eyes still followed his every move.

"So clumsy."

At first, he scoffed at the inept little tracker, brushing her off with ease.

But at some point, he started noticing.

"…"

Then, he found himself listening for her presence—wondering when she would come next.

If those following eyes had shown him the fear he was used to—or even that similar, yet distinct look of submission—he would have quickly dismissed it as familiar and forgotten.

"Strange little thing."

But in those eyes, he saw something he had never seen before—something hiding like a star behind the clouds.

It was unfamiliar.

Difficult to understand.

His tiny sister was full of firsts for him.

Allowing this unknown intruder to step into his heart, Carl had yet to realize what name to give this feeling.

***

Swish.

A gentle breeze brushed against her cheek, and Beatty woke up feeling refreshed.

"Wow, I slept well."

The deep sleep by the lakeside had washed away all her accumulated fatigue from the night before. Stretching her short arms as far as they could go, she let out a satisfied yawn.

As she rubbed her eyes to shake off the last traces of drowsiness—

Grrrgle.

"Ah."

Maybe she had slept too well—her digestion had sped up, and now her empty stomach was growling loudly.

"Are you hungry?"

"Ah, Brother."

At some point, her brother had approached and rummaged through their belongings. Then, without hesitation, he popped something into her mouth.

Chomp!

With her cheeks stuffed full, Beatty could only ask with her eyes. Seeing this, Carl responded as if it was nothing.

"It's chocolate. It’ll restore your energy quickly. As I said before—"

Ruuumble.

A tremendous growl erupted from Carl’s stomach.

"—we beastfolk get hungry quickly."

"…"

Haven’t I seen this before…?

Beatty held the chocolate in her mouth and thought.

I can't exactly give back something I've already bitten…

As she hesitated, Carl tilted his head.

"Why’d you stop eating? Is it bad?"

"No… Aren’t you really hungry too?"

"Me?"

Carl blinked, then let out a small laugh.

"I'm fine. Eat it."

"But—"

"You didn’t even have a proper breakfast."

"Oh…"

So, he was giving it to her in case she was hungrier than him?

"This is nothing for me."

"But—"

"You'd be in trouble if you collapsed."

"Huh?"

"With that tiny body of yours, even if you eat as much as you can, it won’t last long before you pass out."

Well… Maybe that’s why she had cheek pouches.

Carl mumbled to himself as he stared at her face.

Beatty suddenly felt a lump in her throat.

"I'm not that small."

"You are that small."

"…And I wouldn’t collapse just from skipping one meal!"

Determined, Beatty firmly corrected her brother’s misconception that she was as delicate as a blade of grass.

"Sure…"

But seeing the way he looked at her—pityingly—she doubted he was convinced.

"I’m serious."

Why did he insist on misunderstanding?

Beatty grumbled inwardly, then obediently ate the chocolate under his expectant gaze.

Hopping off the hammock, she started walking.

"Where are you going?"

"To the cabin."

"Why?"

"I saw a lot of stuff there earlier. I’m going to check if there’s any food."

"Ah. There’s no food there."

At his confident reply, Beatty turned to look at him.

"I don’t keep food here. If it smells, it could attract bears."

"Bears…?"

Having grown up in the capital, Beatty had only read about such giant animals in books.

The massive snake she had seen earlier was shocking enough, but now she had to process the reality of bears?

"So this is the North."

It was no wonder this region was infamous as one of the most dangerous survival zones on the continent.

"Hmm."

Beatty hesitated for a moment, then turned her body.

Creak.

Her brother was now reclining in the hammock, lazily resting against the backdrop of the dense forest.

Then, she spotted something familiar.

"That’s it!"

Beatty’s eyes lit up, and she quickly ran forward.

Tock tock.

She tapped Carl’s knee with her small hand, making him turn his head.

"Wait here for a moment."

Then—with an expression that said just trust me!—she pounded her tiny fists against her chest.

Poof!

And transformed into a squirrel.

"Beastkin form?"

Carl was momentarily confused.

Why had she suddenly revealed her true form?

Was there a threat nearby?

"I don’t sense anything…"

He had already driven off anything large enough to be a danger while she was sleeping.

"…Could it be because of the bear?"

If it were his tiny sister—who could be knocked over by a drop of water—then maybe just hearing about a predator was enough to scare her.

"Guess I have no choice."

He was just about to get up and skin every bear in the area so she wouldn't be afraid when—

Scurry scurry!

His beastkin-formed sister zipped past him and landed on a tree stump, carefully gauging something.

Then, like the expert climber that squirrels were, she shot up the tree in an instant.

Rustle rustle.

The thick leaves trembled and rustled before falling silent.

Then—

Scurry scurry!

A light brown blur shot down, placed something on the ground, and darted off to another tree.

She moved swiftly between trees, repeating the process.

Finally, satisfied, she returned to the ground.

After sorting through the pile she had gathered, the squirrel turned and bolted toward Carl.

"Chyu-chut!"

His tiny sister, now in front of him, let out a proud chirp.

With her head held high, she opened her mouth and—

"Huh?"

A bundle of glossy, ripe tree nuts was clutched between her tiny teeth.@@novelbin@@

Carl froze.

His sister tilted her head at his reaction before hopping onto his knee.

"Careful, careful."

Making sure her mouth didn't touch the fruit, she gently let go of the stems.

"Chyu-chyu-chut!"

"Eat this!"

Holding the nuts in both hands, she offered them to him.

"?"

Carl placed a hand on his chest.

For some reason, there was a dull ache near his heart.