"She slept well," Fifteen replied.
Phoebe nodded gently, her gaze returning to the fox's face.
"Seventeen minutes."
Fifteen stood by, watching the fox's pale face, and frowned as she sighed.
"If you don't talk, you'll really die."
The fox scoffed, "You think I'm afraid of death?"
"I know you're not." Fifteen squatted beside her, "I just think it's not worth it for you. Is Satan really worth dying for?"
When Fifteen was brought back by the old man, the fox was three years old; they practically grew up together.
Although the fox always looked down on Fifteen, in Fifteen's eyes, the fox was always her fox sister.
The two had their shares of conflicts, and now Fifteen absolutely didn't like the fox.
However, seeing someone she grew up with on the brink of death in front of her, Fifteen couldn't help but feel bad.
The fox remained indifferent.
Fifteen stood up and huffed.
