Rammel raised his fist to knock on the door, but noticed at the last second that the door was already slightly ajar. Peering through the crack, he was surprised to find the Aralmann boy already awake, sitting motionless on the edge of his bed.

Rammel had planned to wake the tyke up at an obscene hour, hammering the point home that travelling with the hunting squad was no walk in the park. That it was not something he could join in with willy nilly, and hopefully, he would even get the boy to change his mind, and run back to Orwell, undoing whatever honeyed words he had spoken to his saviour that made Orwell convince him to allow the boy to join in on a hunt. Granted, it's not like it would be their most dangerous hunt, it was a hunt specifically tailored to acclimatise new blood after all, and he was well aware that youngster's, especially boys, were infatuated with hunting. It's not something he particularly hated, he was the same at that age after all. Regardless though, hunting was not a hobby, nor a pastime. It was not something you could follow along with half-heartedly. People died hunting, of that Rammel was painfully aware.

"Only just waking up now? Hurry up or we'll leave you behind." Rammel growled through the door.

He felt bad chastising the boy, especially after the boy's reaction to his Fervour two days past. He had tried to contain it to the best of his ability, even against Jonglir, trying only to scare the boy, which he had to admit, was a resounding success. Orwell's boy though? He was just about ready to pass out from being within it's perimeter. It wasn't completely out of the blue, however. Orwell had made sure that most of the villagers knew of the boy's history, and that it would take time and effort before he was normal again.

Orwell hadn't given Rammel a complete breakdown of the boy's past, only that he was found beaten and broken in the midst of a Daemon army. Rammel gulped, he didn't need or want to know more. The scarring that stretched a quarter of the boy's face spoke enough. To his credit, Rammel thought, the boy didn't seem to be particularly self conscious about his injuries, not the scarring, nor the sizeable streak of white hair, but for Nuwa's sake, could Orwell at least give the boy a haircut? He'd been in the village for over half a year now, and still neither the boy nor Orwell had spoken once about getting the kid's mop chopped. It hung down to his chin now, and whilst it wasn't a particularly bad look, it made the boy seem a lot more savage than he actually was.

Rammel had expected the boy to be a basket of raw nerves, ready to run away at the slightest sign of conflict, but to his credit, other than his reaction to Fervour, he seemed to be keeping a decent cap on things. Hag Momo had forced his kids, her grandkids, to commune with the boy, hoping to ease him out of his shell, which he supposed wasn't a complete failure. The boy and Yu got on like a house on fire, whilst he managed a more subdued relationship with Jonglir. Not that that was a particularly surprising outcome, mind you. Yuili could become best friends with a frog, which had actually happened on more than one occasion, and Jonglir rarely thought about things outside of hunting, though that was something Rammel hoped Jonglir would come to correct after he learned the error of his ways the days just past.

"I'm ready to go, Ramm- Sir. Rammel Sir. Sir Rammel." In his daydreaming, he hadn't even noticed the boy had left his cabin, and now stood in front of him, nothing but a small bag hoisted over his shoulder.

"What's in the bag?"

"Er... Well... Just some things Orwell gave me for the hunt."

He seemed to grip his bag tighter, hiding it from Rammel. Perhaps his treasured belongings? Not an overly smart idea to bring them on a hunt, but perhaps he was still guarded, thinking they would be lost or stolen should he leave them in the village. A disappointing and quite frankly offensive point of view, but not one Rammel was surprised at. The boy had been through much, he could be afforded a few missteps.

Orwell had asked the boy to help with the preparation of the new years celebration festival, claiming that the boy was lacking communication within the village, and that should that continue, it would foster a sense of detachment, which Rammel agreed with. The boy accepted, proceeding to work morning through afternoon, practically setting up every chair and table himself. Other kids were play fighting and screaming, and the only break the boy took was to watch Yu's antics, which Rammel guessed wasn't a bad thing, she seemed to genuinely cheer up the usually brooding boy. The kid never went out of his way to speak to anyone, especially other children. Rammel had never seen him run around at all, not to mention join in with the other kids playing around. The boys work ethic was worrying, and Rammel hoped he hadn't misinterpreted Orwell's request as some kind of order. Had the boy been a slave prior to coming to Angelsrun? It would explain a lot.

The boys work ethic had inspired the members of the village however, who didn't want to be outdone by a newly indicted child. The preparation was complete long before it usually was, which lead to a more relaxing and fun festival than was usually had.

Rammel assisted the other hunters preparing for the trip, Jonglir going above and beyond to help with every little thing, the boy was obviously unhappy with Aralmann joining the hunt, and that was understandable, but this would be another good lesson for him.

Things don't always go your way.

The Aralmann boy sat dazed by the side, his lack of involvement purposeful on Rammel's part. It took a lot to convince the other hunters to ignore the boy, but in the end they agreed, this was not something that such a young and, perhaps more importantly, currently recovering boy should participate in, and if Rammel could make him leave on his own accord, even if it ended with him hating him, it would be worth it.

For the boys safety.

Rammel's squad took off, only to notice the kid sat still, not moving to join them. Was he having second thoughts? Good. Though unfortunately, when Rammel barked at him sternly, the boy hurriedly caught up with a sheepish smile.

It wasn't long before they had embarked on their hunt, now deep within the forest's outer circle. Surprisingly, the boy was making decent pace, though there was an issue.

The boy had the grace of a drunken Frenenik.

No scratch that, Frenenik at least had the coordination to not squash the children when he was drunk, though he had broken two chairs during the new years celebration just on account of his sheer clumsiness. Frenenik lumbered around, swaying and smashing into every little thing he could find when he was drunk, and sometimes Rammel swore that the man actually went out of his way to purposefully stumble into things, and yet, the boy had even Frenenik beat in this regard, and the boy was stone cold sober.

Where had this boy been raised? Rammel swore he was going out of his way to find every stick and dried leaf that he could possibly see. They had been walking for almost an hour, and they were yet to see a single creature, no doubt the sensitive beasts of the forest heard the commotion coming from a mile away, all of them bolting away from the hunting squads position.

Rammel had begun to try and work up the courage to admonish the helpless boy, but he noticed that with every crunched leaf and snapped stick, something also snapped inside of Jonglir. The boy was a single leaf away from turning around and batting the boy upside the head, so hopefully, sooner than later, Jonglir would say something to the boy, so that Rammel could be free of the guilt.

To the Aralmann boy's credit, however, he had gotten better throughout their trip, and was currently just as quiet as one of them. Almost suspiciously quiet, in fact. If the boy had this kind of talent, Rammel could whip him into an even better hunter than Jonglir in less than a year's time. And that wasn't even consideri-Aaand the boy's gone.

"Jonglir."

"Yes father?"

"Firstly, it's Rammel when we are hunting, and secondly, didn't I put you in charge of supervising the boy?"

"Sorry Rammel, and yeah I-... Oh... Shit."

The hunters all looked around, only to find the cause of their frustration had mysteriously disappeared.

"By Nuwa's Grace, how am I going to explain this to Orwell... Okay, we double back, everyone keep an eye out for the boy. Jonglir, you better hope we find him. I wouldn't want to be the one to break this news to Orwell, put it that way."

Jonglir gulped nervously at Rammel's statement, and doubled back on his path, searching fervently for the boy he had wished to strangle not a half hour ago.

"Rammel! Help!"

Rammel bolted toward the shout, blowing past his fellow hunters. They shared a nervous glance before hurriedly rushing after him.

Rammel dashed through the forest floor, foregoing all ideas of stealth. By his right he heard an explosion, the telltale sound of a falling tree not soon after. Rammel altered his path toward the noise, flying out into the clearing.

Rammel's heart dropped.

A Gir lunged toward the boy, much faster than Rammel could close the distance between the two. He redoubled his efforts, blistering through the large clearing.

He wouldn't make it.

Anger surged through Rammel, beginning at his feet and worming its up into to his head. It brought with it memories of his past he would prefer forgotten. His jaw clenched in fury, the memories of holding his dying fathers hand flashing through his vision. With a breath, his anger flooded from his body, taking it's place in the material world.

There was a transcendent feeling that came along with unleashing your Fervour. It purged your trauma from your body, not erasing your memories, but clearing them up so that you could view them in a different light. He had Jonglir. He had Yuili and Eruel. Even Granny Momo. He had a family of his own now, and no longer needed to be chained down by terrible memories from his past. It was in these rare moments that he knew his father and mother would be watching over him from the Great Beyond, overwhelmingly proud of the progress their son had made.

His Fervour moved much faster than Rammel could.

It still wouldn't make it.

The Gir skidded across the floor, kicking toward the boy's head, aiming to take his life in one fell swoop. The boy was frozen in place, likely too scared to even blink.

The boy was dead.

At least Rammel could send the perpetrator's head as a gift to the boy in the afterlife, something he wished he could have done with his parents.

The boy ducked, rolling past the Gir's swipe, which bit deep into the tree where the boy had stood not a second ago. Rammel nearly fell in bewilderment. The boy had such courage? And skill? The boy righted himself swiftly, facing the Gir once more. It was a good move, but it wouldn't make up the difference between the boy's and the Gir's power.

The Gir swung once more, and Rammel commanded his Fervour to move even faster, his mind throbbed with pain, memories of finding his mothers lifeless corpse bleeding into his peripheral, spurring his Fervour to move even faster. Rammel felt his control over his Fervour begin to wane.

The Fervour caught up. They surrounded the boy, standing tall between him and the Gir.

'Attack.'

Once their onslaught was over, Rammel reigned in his waning control over his Fervour, commanding them to dissipate. He scooped the boy up, making sure he was alright. The boy replied he was okay, before almost immediately blacking out, likely from the sudden change in adrenaline in the boys system. Rammel commanded the hunters back toward the village, and now Jonglir was the one to slow them down, as the experienced hunters bounded silently thorough the undergrowth.

"Back already? I guess th- WHAT HAPPENED!?" Orwell greeted them outside of the gate, immediately flashing toward them once he noticed the obscene amount of blood covering Aralmann.

"Don't fret, it's not his blood." Rammel comforted his friend, handing over the unconscious boy to the healer.

"Explain to me how this happened, Rammel." Orwell didn't seem to be too happy with the situation, and Rammel couldn't blame him. He was so concerned with admonishing the boy that he had completely forget to even keep track of him. A painfully rookie mistake that Rammel would not soon live down.

"The kid was attacked by a wandering Gir. He walked right into the heart of their territory with no worry in the world. They're nocturnal hunters, I don't know what one was doing awake, I intended to show Jongy and Aralmann their markings so they would know what to look out for in the future... It was my fault, Orwell."

"No. Don't apologise. It was me who asked you to bring the boy along. Whether this experience is a boon or a set back for the boy rests upon his shoulders."