Morning came softly over the Felyne Village.
The sunlight filtered through mist and smoke, glinting across rooftops half-mended and walls still bearing scars. The air was different now — not empty, not fearful. It carried sound.
Hammers struck wood. Kits laughed as they dragged new beams into place. The scent of cooked fish drifted between the huts, blending with ash and earth.
Hunnt stood near the outer wall, tightening the last of the new supports. Pyro was a few paces away, surrounded by half a dozen young Felynes. They mimicked his every motion — crouching, rolling, slashing at the air with wooden sticks.
"Balance your paws, nya! If you fall, you die — and if you die, I have to explain it to your grandmother. I don't like doing that."
The group burst into giggles.
Hunnt watched quietly. For the first time in days, Pyro looked… at peace. His tail moved in easy rhythm, his voice sharp but warm. He wasn't just teaching. He was leading.
The elder approached Hunnt, leaning slightly on a carved cane. "Your partner has given our people something we lost long ago."
Hunnt glanced at him. "Courage?"
The elder nodded. "And pride. When we see him train our young, we remember who we were — not what fear made us."
Hunnt smiled faintly. "He was born for it, even if he doesn't know it yet."
The elder's eyes softened. "He will soon. You'll see."
---
By midday, the training had turned into a small sparring session. Pyro had them lined up in pairs, demonstrating how to parry claws with wooden staves.
Hunnt sat by the well, repairing his gauntlet straps, but he watched out of the corner of his eye. Pyro was using Soru bursts now — quick dashes and spins, showing off just enough to keep the kits' attention.
"Faster, nya! You think monsters wait for you to blink?!"
One of the young Felynes stumbled trying to imitate him and landed in the dirt. The others laughed. Pyro sighed dramatically. "Fine. Laugh now, but next time, you're the bait!"
Hunnt nearly choked trying not to laugh.
Later, when the kits ran off to eat, Pyro joined him by the well, sitting with a tired plop. "Nyaaah… I didn't know teaching was this hard. My throat hurts more than my paws."
Hunnt smiled. "That's because you're finally talking more than complaining."
Pyro gave him a side-eye glare. "I learned from the best."
They sat in silence for a while, watching the villagers repair roofs and reinforce walls.
After a moment, Pyro said softly, "They're getting stronger."
Hunnt nodded. "They are. Because of you."
Pyro looked down at his paws. "Because of us."
---
That night, the wind carried a faint chill from the north.
Hunnt stood at the village edge again, eyes fixed on the distant ridges. The monster hadn't returned yet, but its presence was like a shadow behind the stars — felt even when unseen.
He heard soft steps behind him. Pyro padded up, tail low, eyes glimmering faintly in the firelight.
"Can't sleep?" Hunnt asked.
Pyro shook his head. "No. Been thinking, nya."
Hunnt's brow lifted. "That's always dangerous."
Pyro ignored the joke, staring out into the night. "When we found this village, I thought they were helpless. I thought they were broken. But they're just… lost. Like we were once."
Hunnt said nothing.
"I've been teaching them the basics — how to stand, how to move, how to see what's coming before it hits. But it's not enough, nya. When we leave… they'll need someone who stays."
Hunnt's gaze shifted slightly. "You're thinking of staying."
Pyro hesitated, then nodded. "Aye. At least until they can stand on their own."
Silence settled between them — not awkward, but heavy, filled with understanding.
Hunnt finally exhaled. "It's a good decision."
Pyro's ears flicked. "You're not mad?"
Hunnt shook his head. "No. The path we walk isn't about distance — it's about purpose. If yours leads here, then follow it."
Pyro looked up at him, eyes glistening faintly. "You'd keep going alone?"
Hunnt smiled faintly. "I won't be alone. You'll just be somewhere my will already reached."
Pyro laughed weakly. "You talk like an old monk sometimes, Master."
"Someone has to."
---
They returned to the campfire, where the flames danced low. Hunnt reached into his satchel and pulled out a small, weathered notebook — its cover marked with soot, corners bent, pages filled with tight script and sketches.
He handed it to Pyro.
Pyro blinked. "What's this, nya?"
"My notes," Hunnt said. "Every technique I've written down. Rokushiki movements, Haki control, breathing drills, observations — all of it."
Pyro's paws trembled slightly as he took it. "You're… giving this to me?"
Hunnt nodded. "You've earned it. And I can't think of anyone better to pass it on. Keep teaching them. Teach them everything I taught you — and everything you learn on your own."
Pyro ran a paw over the rough leather cover. "You sure? This looks important."
Hunnt smirked. "If you lose it, I'll come back and hit you with another one."
Pyro laughed, the sound small but real. "Deal, nya."
They sat there a long while — no more words, just the quiet crackle of the fire. The bond between them didn't need speech.
---
The next morning, the whole village gathered at the square. Hunnt's pack was ready — light and practical, tied neatly against his back.
The elder approached, bowing deeply. "You've given us more than we can repay."
Hunnt shook his head. "Then repay it by surviving."
The elder nodded. "And Pyro… he's staying?"
Pyro stepped forward, holding the notebook close to his chest. "Aye, nya. I'll train them, teach them what Master taught me. Next time that monster shows its ugly face, this village will fight back."
The elder's whiskers twitched in approval. "Then our claws are yours, little one."
Hunnt's gaze lingered on Pyro for a long moment. "You'll do fine."
Pyro smiled faintly. "You too, Master. Try not to die while I'm gone."
Hunnt chuckled. "You know me — I'll try."
Pyro's tail flicked. "And if you find something that breathes fire again, punch it twice for me."
Hunnt grinned. "I'll make it three."
They clasped hands — paw to fist. No words, no promises, just respect.
Hunnt turned toward the forest path.
As he disappeared into the trees, Pyro stood watching until the last echo of footsteps faded. Then he looked down at the notebook in his paws, the firelight reflecting off its cover.
He opened it slowly — the first page marked in Hunnt's handwriting:
"To fight without purpose is to waste strength.
To protect without pride is to waste heart.
The path has no end, the hunt has no master.
Balance them, and you'll walk the eternal path."
Pyro smiled softly, tail curling. "Guess it's my turn now, nya."
Behind him, the Felynes gathered — looking to him not as a traveler, but as a leader.
The wind carried the scent of ash and fish stew. The fires of the rebuilt homes burned steady.
And for the first time in years, the Felyne Village felt alive again.