Early Sunday morning.

Aya stood neatly in line with the other selected upperclassmen of the Advanced Culinary Arts strand, all of them dressed in their Meadowcut uniforms. Then past the academy gates stood a humble wooden carriage.

At its front, Professor Barlowe spoke quietly to the driver, a mustachioed elk-folk whose name no one seemed to quite remember, though he was always just “Old Elm,” trusted by many students who used his services to head to the nearby town, and known for never losing a passenger or a pot of stew on his route.

As she stood patiently, she looked down at the bag that she was carrying, just to recall a few mental notes of what she brought.

Inside her bag were the essentials: spare uniforms, a couple tea sachets (of course), some charm-post papers, and one soft travel pillow with pastel strawberries stitched into the corner.

Around her, the other members of the culinary team chatted easily—pairs and trios catching up on last-minute gossip or trading prep expectations.

They all seemed to know one another. Some were even already laughing, nudging elbows confidently as they chatted.

Aya… didn’t mind not being part of that.

Yes, she had a bit of a reputation—“sweetheart of the strand,” “scone sprite,” “teacher’s favorite,” depending who you asked. But that didn’t mean everyone was close to her.

And that was okay.

She didn’t need every conversation. Just the ones that counted.

So, she exhaled softly and looked up at the morning sky instead.

“It seems that it’ll be a busy week,” she thought.

Then, just a few feet away, Professor Barlowe clapped his hands once and immediately brought the chattering group to attention as he announced, “Our driver’s all squared away. We’ll be heading into town first, then boarding the Rosequartz line from there. Please remember to keep your bags close and your appetites professional; try not to get too hungry during the trip, okay?”

After that came the chorus of ‘Yes, Professor!’ and a few excited nods.

“But—before I forget,” he added, folding his arms behind his back, “I’d like to make sure you’re all properly introduced to our newest member.”

His eyes found Aya in the lineup, and he gave a slight, reassuring smile. “Miss Aya Ribbuns—if you would?”

Aya’s ears perked up and quickly stepped forward with a soft “Yes!” before making her way to the professor’s side.

“This,” Professor Barlowe gestured, “is Miss Ribbuns. She’ll be standing in for Clarke Mitchell—who, as you all know, fell sick rather suddenly and won’t be joining us. We wish him a swift and complete recovery. Now unfortunately, even if he could recover right away, safety protocols will not allow him to rejoin us in the kitchen.”

The others murmured in agreement as a few nods of sympathy and concerned expressions were exchanged.

“Now, Miss Ribbuns here is a third-year. You may know her as the one responsible for those free pastry samples. She’s got sharp culinary instincts, especially for pastries. And somehow, she has four active cultivation plots in Greenhouse Dome IV, which is four more than most of us have managed.”

Aya giggled quietly at that. “Oh, I just… I like keeping busy.”

Professor Barlowe nodded once, then began introducing the team, one by one, gesturing to each student as he did.

“Starting here—this is Ciela Trentin, seventh-year, our plating lead. Highly precise, so don’t interrupt when she’s dressing a plate unless you’d like your fingers trimmed.”

At that, Ciela nodded politely before adjusting the neatly folded scarf wrapped around her neck. “Nice to meet you, Aya. I’ve heard your name more than once this week.”

“Oh, goodness—only nice things, I hope?”

“We’ll find out,” Ciela replied smoothly.

Professor Barlowe moved along and gestured a tall, sturdy dog-folk with warm brown eyes. “Next, Richard Calloway, sixth-year. He’s pretty reliable when things get too hectic.”

Upon being introduced, Richard smiled at Aya. “Don’t worry, I’ll have your back if anything goes sideways.”

Aya smiled shyly, clutching her hands together. “T-thank you!”

“And beside him—Juniper Fallore, also sixth-year. She goes by June.”

Juniper, the cat-folk girl, gave a two-finger salute. “Hi! It’s June, okay? You can ask me for help anytime if you’re struggling with something.”

Aya gave a tiny giggle. “Understood~”

“Then there’s Orin Redrow, fifth-year,” Professor Barlowe continued, referring to the lean fox-folk beside Juniper. “Knife skills, but hot tempered.”

“You any good with soups, bunny?” Orin asked.

Aya blinked. “Oh, um—I’d like to think so?”

“We’ll see then,” he smirked. “Hope you can keep up.”

Afterwards, Professor Barlowe continued the introductions, and next was a small squirrel-folk with round glasses. “And finally—Petra Minbury, fourth-year. Our pastry apprentice. Gets too over-prepared, also overkind, and usually carries too many cinnamon sticks.”

Petra waved nervously. “H-hi! I’ve heard about you! I mean—not like, researched, but—oh crumbs—um—nice to meet you! I’m your senior but… you’re really more remarkable than me.”

“Aww that can’t be true!” Aya giggled. “But thank you for your kind words!”

Just then, Professor Barlowe clapped once more. “There we have it. From here on out, one team is what we all are. Now please load yourselves in. Rosequartz won’t wait for late chefs.”

Everyone nodded, and with that, the group moved towards the carriage. Once there, they loaded their bags and hopped in alongside Professor Barlowe.

And their trip has officially begun.

Meanwhile, in the predator-folk dorms, the peaceful quiet of a certain someone’s Sunday morning was being thoroughly dismantled.

Hnnf… Thud.

Hnnghh… Thud.

Rory stirred in her top bunk, ears twitching under her pillow. After a bit more of the noises, she groaned, before speaking with a sleepy and slightly annoyed voice. “Raveena, I swear—I know you have your little daily workout thing,” she mumbled, muffled. “But can you please not breathe like you’re fighting ghosts in here?”

No answer.

Just more of that sharp, steady panting, and a few occasional thuds that made the bedframe gently tremble.

Rory gritted her teeth, pulled her pillow tighter over her head, and groaned louder. “Ughhh—curse these fox ears… why must I hear everything.”

Another pause.

More breathing.

More thuds.

And that was it.

She sat up abruptly, her bedhead puffing up. “Raveena, it’s Sunday! That means day off. Some of us are not trying to shred our abs at the crack of dawn! I’ve got sports club later and if I spend my morning losing sleep to—”

She stopped immediately mid-rant as her eyes landed on Raveena across the room—and for a moment, Rory’s brain stalled.

Of course, there’s her roommate Raveena Vesper, wearing nothing but a black sports top and snug shorts, her panther markings on full display as she was doing pull-ups.

That was nothing new.

But then, she noticed what she was doing pull-ups on. It was a bar mounted directly into the dorm wall.

“...What,” Rory spoke in disbelief, then pointed an accusing finger. “Since when did we own a pull-up bar?!”

Despite that, Raveena didn’t pause in her reps. “Since this morning.”

Rory’s jaw dropped. “Since this morni— You’re saying you just now installed it?!”

“I drilled the holes a few days ago. Made the bar in the workshop. Just felt like putting it up now.”

Rory rubbed at her eyes, still squinting. “Right, sure. Totally normal morning decision. Oh—hey, wait. Isn’t today the day Aya leaves with her seniors? Something about that event thingy?”

Raveena paused mid-pull-up. “…Yeah.”

Rory tilted her head. “So that bar’s more important than saying goodbye to your bunny friend?”

Still not looking at her, Raveena dropped smoothly from the bar, landing in a half-crouch before stretching out her shoulders.

“I already did,” she said while brushing a bit of chalk off her fingers. “Last night, remember? She’ll be fine.”

“Huh,” Rory muttered. “Well, at least that’s something.”

“…Something what?” Raveena asked, glancing over as she walked toward the water pitcher.

Rory shrugged, sprawling backward into her pillow. “Dunno. Something progressy. Like… best friend progress. Social leveling up. That kind of thing.”

Raveena poured herself a glass, took a slow sip, then sighed quietly. “…Don’t get it wrong.”

“Hm?”

“She treats me like she treats all her friends,” Raveena said, eyes still fixed on her cup. “That’s all.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” Raveena replied quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I just… don’t want to assume anything. It’s only been a few weeks. I’m fine staying in my place.”

Rory stared for a second, then she muttered, “Wow. You say that like you’re some kind of a novel’s background character.”

Raveena didn’t reply, she just sipped her water again. “I just might be.”

At that weirdly dramatic answer, Rory yawned, long and slow, before flopping dramatically back onto her pillow. “Ughhh… whatever. I’m going back to sleep. Try not to huff and thud so loudly this time, alright?”

Raveena scoffed quietly, grabbing the towel draped over the back of her chair and running it over the sweat at her neck. “Relax. I’m switching to weights, then I’ll head out for a jog. I’ll be out of your hair.”

Rory tugged her blanket over her head. “Do whatever you want… just keep it down, babe.”

“Noted.”

Raveena watched as Rory wriggled back into her sandwich of a blanket nest. Then after a second or two, she heard her mumbling something barely audible. “...Is that a fricking bed bug?”

Raveena sighed and turned away, walking to the window of their dorm room. The pane was slightly fogged from the morning chill, but the outside was visible enough.

As she watched idly, she leaned against the frame with arms crossed. Then she whispered to herself quietly, smiling.

“…Good luck, Aya.”