Boy moved through the darkened forest, his paws gliding silently over the damp earth. The moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting scattered silver beams onto the path ahead.
The quiet hum of insects filled the air and as he walked, his thoughts churned. The warmth of the villagers’ gratitude still lingered in his mind along with the talk with Hazel, an unfamiliar sensation that he couldn’t quite place.
He had spent his existence being used, discarded, and forgotten. This kind of acknowledgent, this sense of belonging- now coming from humans once he beca a beast- felt foreign.
A part of him wanted to push it away, to reject it but another part of him hesitated.
Why was it so hard to walk away? Was it the way they had looked at him- not as a tool, not as a beast, but as sothing more?
But then he had heard words of gratitude before and it landed him in this state.
His steps slowed as he neared the edge of the village. He exhaled softly, erging from the treeline, as he entered the village.
The scent of smoke and burnt wood lingered strongly in the air, mixing with the fresher slls of dirt, sweat, and the faint aroma of cooking food.
It was a strange blend of destruction and resilience- so hos were reduced to skeletal remains, others remained standing but heavily damaged by the battle.
He passed by male villagers working tirelessly, their faces weary but determined. So hauled broken planks of wood while others gathered what little supplies remained.
’They are piecing together a shelter for the night...’ he understood as he saw groups of them co and go from the heart of the village, talking about how much more wood they would need to complete the shelter.
’They lost so much... And yet they kept moving forward...’ he watched as he saw another group of n struggle to lift a collapsed wooden beam, their muscles straining under its weight. He could see their exhaustion, yet they did not falter.
Boy’s gaze then landed on a completely burnt down house right next to where the n were taking wood from.
An elderly woman was sitting outside what was left of her ho and she wasn’t gathering supplies of lifting beams- she was stoking a small fire, carefully adding pieces of wood as though the fire was special.
’The fla is weak and is struggling against the cold night air... yet she isn’t gathering bigger pieces of wood...,’ he observed, his curiosity spiking at the old lady’s actions as he made his way closer to her.
As he got closer, Boy realised that the pieces of wood had been neatly arranged in a particular formation and under them, a neat bed of sticks. At that instant, he realised, ’she’s not grabbing bigger pieces of wood because it would ruin the formation she had made.’
The flickering embers cast soft shadows across her face, deepening the lines of sorrow etched into her skin.
After adding one final piece of wood, she paused, silently observing the fire for a few seconds before she weakly brought her hands forward and clasped them together as she knelt in front of the fire.
"May you rest in peace, my son, my daughter-in-law..." her voice wavered, her words barely audible over the crackling fire, "May your spirits watch over this village, over those you left behind. And may we find the strength to carry on in your mory."
As she said this prayer, a soft gust of wind stirred the embers, making them glow brighter for a fleeting mont before settling again.
The woman exhaled shakily, as if releasing a part of her grief into the night.
Boy found himself staring at the fire longer than he intended. There was sothing about the scene- the way the fire refused to die despite how little fuel it had left, the way the wind blew into the fire and made the embers brighter.
It reminded him of the people here, of the way they clung to life even after everything had been torn from them.
He he he~
The sound of laughter caught his attention as his head turned around to the source. A group of children were peeking out from behind a half-collapsed wall, their wide, curious eyes fixed on him.
Upon seeing him turn towards them, the children all began to scurry away, giggling happily.
’How are they able to hold onto hope in such a situation?’ Boy thought, deeply confused at how he was able to see such sadness and devastation but also hope in such a scenario.
A slow rustling of fabric and creak of weary bones pulled his attention back as the old lady rose to her two feet and as she turned, her eyes t Boy’s.
"You’ve been watching for so ti now," she said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "Co, walk with to the heart of the village. The feast should almost be ready now."
Boy hesitated as he told her telepathically, ’How?’
The woman tilted her head slightly as her eyes widened temporarily at Boy’s ability to speak before she replied,slightly turning around while gesturing for Boy to make his way towards her, "How what?"
Boy’s golden eyes flickered towards the people of the village as he made his way towards her, "How do you still have hope after everything? You guys have almost nothing."
A small, knowing smile touched her lips as she considered his question.
"Because hope is what keeps us alive," she said, "We don’t endure because we are strong but because we have sothing to hold onto. We endure because we carry the dreams and wishes of those who ca before us, the hopes they left in our hands."
Boy remained silent, mulling over her words as she finished, "Without hope, we let their voices fade and their dreams die with them."
The woman lightly rubbed her hand over the hackles on the top of Boy’s head as she began walking forward once again, "Co, let’s head to the village center. You can see for yourself what it ans to hold on."
A quiet resolve settled in him as he joined the old lady and they made their way towards a source of flickering light where voices and the sll of food signalled the start of a modest feast beginning soon.
Boy and the old woman arrived at the center of the village, they saw families huddled around the big fire while each worked towards roasting pieces of at or cooking vegetables.
The villagers had gathered to share what little they had in celebration of their survival and as thanks to the soldiers. And the soldiers that they seeked to thank were sitting among them, exchanging stories of battle, laughter mixing with the night air. Yet through all this, the sadness in their eyes was still present yet even more evident was the look of uplifting that they were able to place on their faces.
Boy took in the sight, the atmosphere foreign yet strangely grounding as despite the destruction, a strange warmth filled the air.
This was hope- the thing he had struggled to understand. It was not present in just words or fleeting emotions. It was in the way they gathered, in the way they still found a reason to smile despite their pain.
A shift rippled through the gathering as a few villagers took notice of the large hyena walking beside the elderly woman.
Conversations quietened as a lot of heads turned towards him, a tense feeling spreading across the whole center.
Boy sensed all this and exhaled sharply through his nose as he had expected, even gratitude had its limits.
But what happened next caught him off guard as he saw not a trace of negativity in the eyes or body language of the villagers and soldiers. So even nodded at him in greeting as they let out a smile.
The elderly woman placed a gentle hand on his back, a silent gesture of reassurance as she murmured, "You gave them hope. But they don’t know how to thank you after what you did earlier."
Boy didn’t reply as his gaze then ran through all the villagers seated near the fire, searching for soone. His gaze then stopped at one person, the girl that reminded him of Lady Elaria.
She was sitting by herself, a warm fur coat draped around her as her father seed to have left to help out with the others. Her fingers tracing patterns on the soil as she seed to still be lost in thought.
’I need to go,’ he said telepathically as he turned to the elderly woman.
She gave him a knowing nod as she stepped aside and began walking towards a group that was cooking sothing while Boy made his way towards the girl.
Hearing the heavy footsteps of Boy approaching, the girl looked up, her breath pausing as Boy stopped in front of her. Her fingers twitched slightly, hesitating as she t his steady golden gaze with her mind in chaos.
Was he angry? Was he here to judge her?
Uncertainty coiled tightly in her chest. The villagers around her saw this and hesitated as if wanting to approach the hyena but held back.
But then, without a word, Boy simply extended his head forward and opened his mouth as he gently placed a flower right next to her.
A stunned silence followed.
The villagers nearby murmured in quiet amazent, their eyes shifting between the hyena and the girl. So of the soldiers exchanged knowing glances, nodding in respect. Even the feline summon watched the exchange with silent curiosity.
The girl stared at the delicate blossom, in shock, then at Boy, her expression unreadable at first. The delicate petals seed almost out of place in the roughness of the mont, fragile yet deliberated.
She knew this particular orchid, it was sothing that only grew in the forest and couldn’t be found in the village, aning that Boy could only have brought it from outside.
Slowly, her fingers curled around the stem, her grip gentle as if afraid it might vanish...
"Is this... for ?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Boy held her gaze for a mont, then gave a small, slow nod.
Her eyes widened at this, glistening slightly under the soft light of the fire.
A shaky breath escaped her lips before a small, relieved smile was etched on her face.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice carrying a different weight than before.
At this, the tension in the area began to ease as the villagers who had watched the exchange slowly turned their attention back to the feast. Conversations resud, laughter bubbled up from different corners, and the atmosphere of a feast fully took hold.
The feast that night carried a different kind of warmth—not just one of survival, but of gratitude, of unity.
The feline summon stretched lazily at the edge of the gathering, its ears twitching as it observed everything in quiet contentnt.
Boy sat near the warmth of the flas, his golden eyes scanning the gathering.
He watched as a man ruffled his child’s hair, as the elders and soldiers recounted old stories to the young, as weary hands lifted cups in quiet toasts.
The way they clung to life, to each other, to hope—it was sothing he had never understood before.
And yet, for a fleeting mont, he allowed himself to settle into it.
’I... don’t hate this,’ he thought, almost begrudgingly. The thought felt foreign, unsettling even, but not entirely unwelco.
He had thought that life was simply surviving, fighting, running. But this encounter had taught him that maybe, just maybe, there was sothing beyond that.
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