The lizard stood there, still and silent, the faint hum of the Qi-Gathering Array vibrating through its bones.
*…I can feel it,* it thought.
The warmth.
The density.
The steady, disciplined flow of energy.
*The fox is cultivating.*
It didn't need clear vision to know. The air itself gave it away—thick, saturated, heavy with refined qi. Each breath carried that warmth into its chest, faint but unmistakable.
The blurred shape at the center of the formation remained motionless. Focused. Unyielding. Qi wrapped around the array like a living current.
The lizard did not move.
Did not speak.
Its wings rested slightly open, balancing against an invisible pressure in the air. Its breathing was slow, measured. Thought drifted forward, methodical and calm.
*…It isn't going to finish anytime soon.*
Its tail flicked once.
Without hesitation, it pushed off the stone floor in a smooth, controlled arc. Air caught its body, carrying it silently across the room. Its claws brushed the wall as it adjusted midair, guided more by heat and scent than sight.
It landed on the table beside the scattered jars.
One vessel teetered beneath its weight. For a heartbeat, it slipped—then its claws hooked the edge and it leapt clear in a fluid recovery.
Balance restored.
Its nostrils flared.
The lizard lowered its head and began to **sniff**.
Slow.
Careful.
The scent of blood was faint now. The herbs lingered. But the dominant note was unmistakable—
*Wine.*
Bamboo wine. Sharp. Lightly sweet.
It nudged a jar with its snout.
Empty.
Another.
Empty.
Claws scraped softly as it shifted, nose moving from vessel to vessel, searching by scent rather than sight.
Then—
One remained upright.
It leaned in, tipped it carefully with one claw, and opened its maw.
Nothing.
It tilted it further.
A single drop slid free.
The lizard's tongue flicked out, catching it mid-fall. It tasted it slowly, deliberately.
One drop.
Tiny.
Enough.
The flavor registered.
*…Empty.*
It lowered the jar, held it there for a moment as if considering, then set it down with controlled precision. Its tongue flicked once more over its teeth, collecting the last trace of sweetness.
The lizard stood there among empty vessels and fading scents, wings folded, tail curled close.
It did not linger.
With a small, precise hop, it dropped to the stone floor. Its claws made no sound. It straightened, sniffing again.
The air was different here.
Cooler.
Cleaner.
Threaded with moisture.
Drawn by the scent, it walked.
Slow.
Unhurried.
The blurred shapes of the room slid past as it moved, guided by heat and instinct.
At the far side of the chamber, it stopped.
A recessed **stone basin** was set into the floor, its edges smooth and worn. Wisps of **steam** curled lazily from the surface. Faint runes shimmered along the inner rim, regulating the temperature, holding the water in perfect balance.
Warm.
Clean.
The lizard stepped closer.
Steam beaded along its scales, clinging to the ridges of its neck and back. It lowered its head, then dipped its maw to the surface.
It drank.
Slowly.
The warmth slid over its tongue, down its throat, spreading through its chest.
Not as rich as wine.
Not as satisfying as blood.
But… acceptable.
*Tastes… good,* it thought, simply.
It drank for a while, steady and quiet, the only sounds the soft ripple of water and the faint hiss of steam.
Then it stopped.
Lifted its head.
Stood there.
Water clung to its scales. Steam curled around its body. The faint scent of itself—blood, wine, corpse—rose as the warmth dampened it.
A memory surfaced.
The fox's voice.
*You reek. Blood, wine, corpse… it's all mixed together. Disgusting.*
The lizard did not bristle.
Did not take offense.
It simply… considered.
*…I don't bathe.*
A pause.
*Only humans bathe.*
It stood there, motionless, steam winding around it.
Then—
*…Bathing.*
The thought returned.
It stepped closer.
One claw touched the water.
Warm.
Not burning.
Not cold.
Acceptable.
It leaned forward, lowering its head until the tip of its snout broke the surface. Ripples spread as it dipped further.
Then, without ceremony, it **slid in**.
Water parted smoothly around its body. The warmth wrapped around it instantly, seeping into joints, along the base of its wings, down its spine.
It moved.
Naturally.
Easily.
Tail guiding. Limbs paddling with quiet efficiency. It swam in a small circle, then submerged fully, wings tucking in as it passed beneath the surface.
The world went muffled.
Muted.
Warm.
For a brief moment, it simply… existed.
Then—
It froze.
Body tensing.
Eyes snapping open.
*…This is too small.*
The realization hit instantly.
With a sharp flex of its limbs, the lizard **launched upward**.
Water exploded outward as it burst from the basin, wings flaring before snapping tight. Droplets scattered in every direction as steam tore apart around it.
It landed beside the basin with a wet, controlled thud, claws gripping, tail lashing once for balance.
It stood there, water dripping from its scales, chest rising and falling.
Blink.
Once.
Then it looked back at the basin.
Small.
Contained.
Limited.
Its tail flicked.
*…Not suitable.*
The lizard straightened, wings folding neatly as droplets continued to slide down its body and pool on the stone.
It stood there, damp and steaming, staring at the basin with a blank, evaluative expression.
Bathing… had been acceptable.
But confinement?
No.
That was not.