The morning light crept slowly over the valley.
Mist rolled off the treetops, shimmering gold under the sun. Hunnt and Pyro followed the three rescued Felyne kits along a winding dirt path, their steps soft, cautious — as if they already sensed what awaited them ahead.
When they reached the ridge, the air changed.
The smell of ash lingered faintly. Smoke no longer rose, but the memory of fire was still burned into the land.
Below them stretched what was once a thriving Felyne Village — now half-silent, half-broken.
Wooden huts built around ancient roots stood in ruin. Rope bridges sagged. The once-cheerful wind chimes that hung from porches were melted or shattered. The morning wind moved through the ruins like a ghost.
Pyro froze. His tail went still, ears lowering. "Nyaaah…" he whispered. "It's… really gone."
Hunnt said nothing. He walked forward slowly, boots crunching against the charred ground. His eyes traced the patterns of claw marks on the fences, the way some huts had collapsed inward.
It wasn't recent — months, maybe longer.
The young Felynes ran ahead, crying out. "We're home! We're home!"
From one of the surviving huts, older Felynes emerged. Their fur was thin, their eyes dull from exhaustion, but when they saw the three kits, relief spread through their faces like sunrise breaking the fog.
One stepped forward — an elder with gray whiskers and a crooked back. His paws trembled slightly as he approached Hunnt and Pyro.
"You brought them back…" the elder said softly. "Thank the stars."
Hunnt bowed slightly. "We found them running from a pack of Lesser beasts. They were brave to survive this far."
The elder nodded weakly. "We've lost so many brave ones already."
Pyro looked around — the burned fences, the cracked walls. His claws flexed unconsciously. "Nyaaah… what happened here, Elder?"
The old Felyne's eyes dimmed. "A monster," he said at last. "It came from the northern cliffs. Fire in its breath, wings that darkened the sky. It burned everything it touched. We tried to fight — those who could. But we had no hunters left. No Palicoes among us. Only gatherers and builders. The rest… fled or fell."
Pyro's ears twitched. "So you've been living like this? All this time?"
The elder nodded. "We hide underground when the air smells of smoke. We scavenge what we can. The monster comes less often now, but when it does…" His voice faltered. "We can only pray it passes."
Hunnt's brow furrowed. "How long ago was the last attack?"
"Two moons," the elder said. "It destroyed our eastern storage huts. We haven't rebuilt since. We've learned not to draw attention."
Pyro's tail flicked sharply. "Why not fight back, nya? You're Felynes — I've seen what we can do! You could set traps, defend the walls, anything!"
The elder gave a weary smile. "We are not Palicoes, child. We were never trained for war. When our hunters fell, our claws became tools, not weapons."
Pyro lowered his gaze. "Still… no one should have to live like this."
Hunnt looked toward the distant mountains, where thin plumes of heat shimmered against the horizon. The air there pulsed faintly — a memory of fire.
He exhaled. "We'll stay."
Pyro blinked, surprised. "Stay, nya?"
Hunnt nodded firmly. "For now. You said it yourself — they can't fight. Someone has to protect them. We'll rest here, rebuild what we can, and prepare if that monster comes back."
Pyro hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But if you think I'm rebuilding all these huts alone, you're dreaming."
Hunnt chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it."
---
The next few days were spent among ashes and quiet work.
Hunnt walked the village perimeter each morning, studying the claw marks, mapping the attack routes. He noticed patterns — burns concentrated near storage areas and wells. The monster had attacked for resources, not territory. Intelligent. Dangerous.
Pyro, meanwhile, gathered the younger Felynes and began teaching them what he knew.
"Balance your grip, nya. A knife's no good if your paw shakes."
"Stay low when you move — monsters see motion first, not shape."
"Remember, running smart is better than dying brave."
His tone was half-serious, half-exasperated, but the kits hung on every word.
Hunnt watched him from afar one afternoon, arms crossed. There was something different about Pyro's eyes — not just focus, but familiarity. This wasn't just another hunt for him. It was home.
When Hunnt approached, Pyro was in the middle of demonstrating a roll. He stood, brushing off dirt. "Nyaaah… didn't think I'd ever end up training my own kind."
Hunnt smiled faintly. "Seems fitting. You're good at it."
"Good? They're terrible, nya." Pyro sighed dramatically. "But they listen better than you ever did."
Hunnt laughed quietly. "Fair."
---
At dusk, the village gathered around a single large fire — their first communal flame since before the attacks. Smoke rose softly into the cooling air. The sound of hammers and laughter had replaced the silence.
The elder sat beside Hunnt. "You've brought life back to this place, even if only for a little while. I had forgotten what it felt like to see the fires lit again."
Hunnt stared into the flames. "Fire isn't just destruction. It can mean warmth too. You just have to control where it burns."
The elder smiled faintly. "Spoken like an old hunter."
Hunnt's expression softened. "Just a Wanderer."
The old Felyne's ears twitched. "Then may your path never dim."
---
By the fourth night, the village had changed.
The young ones had built traps under Hunnt's guidance — alarm bells strung along fences, sharpened stakes hidden near the gates.
The adults cleared collapsed huts and reinforced walls with stone.
The sounds of fear had been replaced by the rhythm of rebuilding.
But when the wind shifted, the smell of sulfur returned.
Faint. Almost invisible — but there.
Hunnt froze mid-step, eyes narrowing. Observation Haki pulsed outward — searching.
The forest breathed back stillness… then something else.
A tremor. Deep. Heavy. Distant.
He turned slightly. "Pyro."
The Palico was already looking north, fur standing on end. "You feel it too, nya?"
Hunnt nodded. "It's far, but moving."
Pyro's eyes hardened. "Then it's coming back."
Hunnt's gaze never wavered. "Eventually. We'll be ready."
He turned toward the village, where the Felynes were still working under the moonlight — rebuilding, laughing softly. They didn't feel the tremor yet. They didn't know.
Pyro stepped beside him, tail flicking slowly. "They don't deserve this again, Master."
Hunnt nodded. "No. But if it comes, it won't find them alone."
Pyro smiled faintly. "Guess the Eternal Wanderer's staying longer than planned, nya."
Hunnt's lips curved slightly. "Seems that way."
Far beyond the hills, thunder rumbled faintly — but Hunnt knew better.
It wasn't thunder.
It was a roar.