A month had passed since Hunnt first began training Skywalk.
The world around them had changed as much as he had.
The forest that once stood black and dead now shimmered with rebirth — soft moss covering charred roots, saplings breaking through the ash, rivers running clear again. Each day felt like a quiet promise: that even after ruin, life returned.
Hunnt felt it in his own body too — the rhythm, the balance, the new strength that came from struggle. His legs no longer trembled when he kicked the air; his lungs no longer screamed with each breath. Every leap now carried certainty, not hope.
At dawn, he stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the valley below, the wind tugging gently at his cloak.
He crouched slightly, exhaled once, then jumped.
One kick. Two. Three.
The air held him. The invisible ground beneath his boots rippled like water — firm, but alive. Each step upward was measured, calm, controlled.
Pyro, perched on a rock below, tilted his head up, squinting. "Nyaaah… so you can just… stay up there now?"
Hunnt smiled faintly as he descended. His boots touched the ground with the lightness of falling leaves. "Stable enough to teach it."
Pyro's ears twitched. "Teach it? To who, nya?"
Hunnt raised a brow. "Who do you think?"
Pyro blinked, pointing at himself. "Me?!"
Hunnt chuckled. "You've already learned Soru, Tekkai, and Kami-e. Skywalk is the next step. You'll need it eventually."
Pyro crossed his arms, tail flicking. "I didn't agree to this 'next step.' My legs are half your size, Master. Air doesn't like me."
Hunnt grinned. "Then make it respect you."
Pyro groaned. "Nyaaah… why do I feel like this is going to hurt?"
---
They started that afternoon.
Hunnt stood in the clearing, demonstrating the motion again — body aligned, breathing controlled, his kick perfectly timed with exhalation. The ground cracked faintly beneath his feet as he launched upward.
Three steps through the air — deliberate, steady, balanced — before landing gracefully.
"Everything in Skywalk starts with this," Hunnt said. "The air isn't empty. It's filled with pressure. If you can strike it faster than it disperses, it will push back."
Pyro tilted his head. "So… I have to kick really hard and not die trying?"
"Close enough."
Hunnt crouched to meet Pyro's eye level. "But there's more. Skywalk isn't strength alone — it's rhythm. You breathe, then strike. Each kick costs stamina, so you pace it. One breath, one kick, one rise."
Pyro blinked. "Sounds like dancing."
Hunnt smiled faintly. "Maybe it is. Just with more falling."
---
The first attempt went exactly as expected.
Pyro crouched, tail stiff, eyes locked on the sky. "Alright, air… prepare yourself."
He jumped — and immediately fell.
Thud.
He landed face-first in the dirt.
Hunnt sighed. "You forgot to exhale."
Pyro's muffled voice came from the ground. "I forgot to survive, nya."
Hunnt helped him up. "Again."
Pyro groaned, brushing off the dirt. "You enjoy this too much."
Hunnt's grin was unapologetic. "Maybe."
---
They trained for hours.
Pyro leapt, kicked, and fell. Over and over. Sometimes forward, sometimes sideways, sometimes spectacularly upside down.
Each time, Hunnt corrected him — adjusting his stance, reminding him to breathe, to strike with intent, not panic.
"Don't throw your leg," Hunnt said. "Drive it."
"Don't gasp — exhale."
"Don't fight the air. Command it."
Pyro groaned after every fall. "You sound like Coerl when he's angry at his hammer, nya."
Hunnt chuckled. "Maybe he was teaching me more than forging."
---
By sundown, Pyro lay flat on his back, tail twitching weakly. "I hate this sky, nya. It's smug."
Hunnt sat beside him, handing over a waterskin. "It's not the sky's fault you're impatient."
"I'm not impatient. I'm… air-challenged."
Hunnt smirked. "That's a new one."
Pyro took a long sip, glaring at the clouds. "You make it look easy, Master."
"It's not easy. It's just learned."
Pyro glanced at him. "When did it finally work for you?"
Hunnt leaned back, staring at the fading light. "Three weeks in. I stopped thinking about flying and started thinking about balance. I realized it's not about escaping gravity — it's about learning to stand in a place where nothing stands still."
Pyro blinked. "That… actually sounds wise."
Hunnt grinned. "Don't tell anyone."
---
The next morning, training resumed.
This time, Hunnt joined him — leaping first, his steps tracing invisible platforms in the air. Each impact made a faint whump sound, like a heartbeat against the wind.
"Watch my legs," he called down. "Focus on the rhythm. Count it."
"One—two—three," Pyro murmured, eyes following Hunnt's movement. "It's like he's walking on invisible stairs."
Hunnt landed lightly, boots stirring dust. "Your turn."
Pyro gulped. "If I die, you're carrying my gear."
Hunnt smiled. "Agreed."
Pyro crouched, exhaled sharply, and kicked. The first jump was clean. He kicked again—
For a heartbeat, he felt resistance. The air seemed to push back. His paws caught something unseen.
He rose — barely a meter, but higher than ever before.
"Nyaaah!" he shouted, eyes wide with shock.
Then he fell.
Hard.
"...Ow."
Hunnt approached, smiling. "Congratulations."
Pyro looked up, dazed. "For falling better?"
"For rising first."
Pyro blinked, then smiled weakly. "So that's what it feels like."
Hunnt nodded. "Now you just need to do it without thinking."
Pyro groaned. "You're a cruel teacher."
Hunnt's grin widened. "And you're a stubborn student."
---
By the third day, Pyro was managing short bursts — half-steps through the air before gravity reclaimed him.
Hunnt adjusted his pacing, teaching him to distribute stamina evenly.
"Remember," Hunnt said, "Skywalk eats through stamina faster than Soru. Rest when your breathing breaks rhythm. If you push past that point, you'll drop like stone."
Pyro huffed, catching his breath. "Easy for you to say. You weigh twice as much. The air probably likes you more."
Hunnt chuckled. "Or maybe it's scared of me."
"Same thing," Pyro muttered.
---
That evening, the world painted itself gold. The air was warm, the forest alive with faint sounds — insects, leaves, the low hum of wind.
Hunnt and Pyro stood in the clearing once more.
"Last one for the day," Hunnt said.
Pyro crouched, tail flicking. "If this fails, I'm blaming the weather."
He leapt.
One kick. Two. The second caught. The air rippled beneath him, holding for a breath's length.
For the first time, Pyro's body steadied midair — a single, fragile heartbeat of balance.
He laughed, a sound caught between disbelief and joy. "I did it! I'm flying! I—"
He fell.
Hunnt caught him before he hit the ground.
Pyro blinked, breathless. "Okay, maybe not flying."
Hunnt smiled. "Not yet. But close."
---
They rested by the fire that night. Pyro's fur was ruffled, and his movements were sluggish, but his eyes gleamed with pride.
"So that's Skywalk," he murmured. "Freedom with a side of pain."
Hunnt chuckled. "Pain builds foundation."
Pyro tilted his head. "You really believe that, don't you?"
Hunnt looked into the flames. "Always. Every scar, every ache — they're reminders that we're growing. You can't reach the sky without breaking a few limits first."
Pyro smiled faintly, tail curling beside him. "You sound like Granma Mel when she's lecturing me about patience, nya."
Hunnt laughed quietly. "Then she taught me well."
They sat in silence for a while, watching sparks rise into the night — tiny embers trying to reach the stars.
Hunnt finally said, "You did good today, Pyro."
Pyro's ears perked. "You mean it?"
Hunnt nodded. "You took your first step into the sky. That's something even most hunters never do."
Pyro grinned proudly. "Then next time, I'll stay up longer."
Hunnt smiled. "That's the spirit."
The fire crackled softly, its glow painting them in warmth. Beyond the treetops, the moon shone bright and full, hanging over the quiet land like a silent witness.
Hunnt leaned back, murmuring to the stars, "The path never ends. But it's lighter with company."
Pyro yawned, curling beside the fire. "You humans always have poetic thoughts when I'm tired."
Hunnt chuckled softly. "Go to sleep, partner."
As the Palico drifted off, Hunnt looked once more toward the moon — his reflection faint in its silver light.
Tomorrow, they'd keep walking.
And when the time came, they'd take to the sky again — together.