The beast spotted a girl sleeping high in the tree. Hunger burned in its eyes. Quietly, it reached out and grabbed her.
Amal's eyes snapped open. The first thing she saw were the creature's sharp teeth inches from her face. Without thinking, she kicked the beast hard, sending it crashing to the ground below.
She leapt from the tree, landing gracefully. "I see you're injured," she said, brushing dust from her arms. "This will be easy."
But the beast suddenly spoke.
"Spare me."
Amal blinked in shock. "Why should I? You just tried to eat me."
"I apologize for my behavior," the beast said, bowing its head. "My hunger overtook my senses. It was dishonorable of me."
Amal tilted her head. "What's with your tone? You sound... noble."
"I am," the beast replied. "I am the prince of this wild forest. Son of the Great Bear."
Amal narrowed her eyes. "This forest has no kings or princes."
"Not in the eyes of most," the beast said calmly. "But my father ruled the mountains before the age of men. That legacy still lives in me."
Amal thought for a moment. If I turn my back and he attacks again, I'll kill him. But if he's strong… maybe he can teach me.
"Fine," she said at last. "I'll leave you be."
She turned and began walking away.
"Wait," the beast said. "May I accompany you… until I've recovered?"
Amal hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. But try anything again—and I'll finish what I started."
The beast gave a slow, respectful bow. "Understood."
---
They walked quietly through the forest, side by side. After a while, Amal glanced at the beast and asked, "What's your name?"
The beast looked ahead. "Exile," he replied. "And may I ask yours?"
"Amal," she said simply.
Exile gave a soft nod. "Amal… what a lovely name."
She shrugged. "It's alright. Anyway, what's with all the injuries?"
"I was in a great battle," Exile answered.
"With who?" she asked, curiosity rising.
His voice hardened. "Humans."
Amal slowed her pace. "My kind? Did they try to kidnap you?"
"No," Exile replied, his tone heavy with old anger. "They tried to kill me."
Amal frowned. "For what?"
"For existing," Exile said, his voice now a whisper of pain.
Amal didn't speak for a moment. Then she simply said, "Wow."
---
Flashback
The wild forest was quiet that night. Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting pale silver shadows across the ground. Beneath a towering tree, Exile lay resting, his breathing slow and steady. But then… he felt it.
A disturbance in the air.
Thump! Thump!
His eyes shot open—instinct blazing.
Bang!
He leapt from the ground just as a volley of arrows slammed into the spot where he had been lying. The bark of the tree shattered. Leaves rained down.
Exile landed gracefully on all fours, his golden eyes scanning the treeline.
From the shadows, a formation of armored soldiers emerged—sharp and disciplined. At the front stood their commander, a stern man in polished silver armor, his cape fluttering behind him. His name was General Si.
He raised his hand. "That could have killed him. Shame it didn't."
Exile rose to his full height, calm and composed. "That was your intent, wasn't it?"
Si's eyes narrowed. "Indeed. Target acquired. Commence assault! Strike without mercy!"
The army surged forward with a cry of war.
Exile's gaze remained steady. "So be it."
He moved like a shadow. As the first knight swung, Exile dodged smoothly and caught another by the chest, lifting him with monstrous strength. With one clean motion, he hurled the soldier into two others—sending them crashing into the trees.
A second soldier lunged with a spear. Exile gripped it mid-air, snapped it in half, and slammed the wooden shaft into the attacker's gut.
The soldiers hesitated—but only for a moment.
"He's a monster!" one shouted. "Don't let up!"
As they rushed him, Exile tore a blade from the hands of a fallen knight. The sword gleamed in the moonlight—Exile's grip on it tight and sure.
"I did not seek battle," he said. "But I will not fall here."
He fought with elegance and ferocity. Every strike was clean. Every move was controlled. The ground became littered with weapons, helmets, and moaning soldiers.
But still—they kept coming.
Despite his strength, the numbers overwhelmed him. Wounds opened across his arms and back. Fatigue began to creep in.
"I must withdraw," he said to himself, breathing heavily.
With a mighty roar, he swung his blade in a wide arc, creating space, then dashed into the forest—faster than the eye could track.
Behind him, General Si watched with narrowed eyes.
"Let him run. He won't get far."
But Exile did. And he survived.
---
Amal said, "Let's stop here."
Exile turned to her. "Why?"
"Because it's time for me to train."
Exile nodded. "Very well. I'll rest here then."
"But before you rest," Amal added quickly, "give me some training tips."
He raised a brow, then smiled. "Ah, eager to grow stronger? Very well. Let me think... See that tree over there?"
Amal looked. "Yes."
"Go punch it," he said calmly.
Amal tilted her head. "Punch it? I'm stronger than I look, you know. I'll break it."
Exile chuckled softly. "That tree is different. The more you hit it, the tougher it becomes. It was grown with ancient roots—meant for training beasts like me."
Amal narrowed her eyes. "Alright, challenge accepted."
She walked over and began punching the tree—fist after fist. The bark barely flinched. She kept going.
"Also," Exile called out, "kick it too. That will strengthen your legs and balance."
Without replying, Amal added kicks to her routine. Hours passed. Sweat poured down her face. Her hands ached, her legs trembled.
The tree still stood untouched.
Finally, she collapsed beside it, panting hard.
Exile, now awake, stretched lazily and said with a smirk, "Told you."
---
Amal lay on the ground, breathing slowly. "Exile?"
"Yes?" he replied, his voice calm.
"If what you say is true… then how is your kingdom?"
Exile looked up at the sky for a moment before answering. "You mean my father's kingdom?"
"Yes," Amal said.
He paused. "I have no right to answer that question."
"Why not?" Amal asked, sitting up slightly.
"Because I am a prince," Exile said quietly. "I lived a privileged life. I saw only the beauty. If you want the truth, you should ask the people—the ones who lived beneath the trees, not in the castle."
Amal nodded slowly. "When I come back stronger… will you show me your kingdom?"
Exile smiled gently. "Why not show you now?"
She stood up, brushing herself off. "Because I have no time I have to train I leaving this forest very soon"
Exile bowed his head slightly. "Very well. I will show it to you… when the time is right."
Amal stretched. "Rest time's over."
She turned back to the tree and resumed punching.
Exile stood, his body relaxed. "I'll go find food."
"Alright," Amal replied without looking back, her fists striking the tree again and again.
---
Exile stood at the edge of a quiet lake. The water shimmered in the light.
"My luck is up today," he said softly. He climbed a nearby tree and settled among its branches. "Animals always come to drink. When they do, I'll be ready."
Back at camp, Amal continued training with focused intensity. Hours passed.
Eventually, Exile returned, carrying a large deer across his shoulders.
"You're back!" Amal said, eyes lighting up. "I'm starving."
"Fortune smiled on us," Exile replied. "I caught a big one."
"Be right back," Amal said, vanishing into the trees. Minutes later, she returned, dragging a thick log behind her. "Let's cook."
She dropped the wood. "Exile, make a fire."
Exile raised an eyebrow. "Whatever happened to 'please'?"
Amal crossed her arms. "Fine. Please."
With a faint smirk, Exile raised his hand. His claws extended—massive, curved, and crackling with a strange energy. He snapped his fingers.
Flames burst to life on the wood.
Amal stepped back. "Huh. Fancy claws."
"They come in handy," Exile said coolly, taking a seat near the fire.
---
They finished roasting the deer and sat beneath the stars, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Just as Exile took his last bite, his ears twitched. He turned sharply.
"Jump!" he ordered.
They leapt to the side—arrows rained down, striking the spot they'd just been sitting. As they landed, they found themselves completely surrounded.
Exile stood, his tone calm but firm. "Cease this foolish ambush. There's no honor in hiding behind arrows."
From behind the soldiers, General Si stepped forward, his armor shining beneath the moonlight. His voice was cold and sharp.
"You—dirty girl, feasting beside a wild beast. Have you no shame?"
Amal narrowed her eyes. "Speak to me with respect, or don't speak at all."
Si didn't flinch. "Men! Seize them!"
The soldiers charged. Exile, still bearing wounds from before, rose tall. "If you want us," he growled, "you'll have to earn it!"
Amal struck first—dodging past the soldiers with speed, she grabbed one by the leg, spun, and slammed him into two others.
Exile roared, his claws extending. He lashed out with precision, cutting down soldiers as they swarmed him.
Then Si entered the fray, locking eyes with Amal. He parried her strike, stepped close, grabbed her by the hair, and hurled her into a tree.
Exile turned, eyes wide. "Amal!"
She was motionless. Anger surged through him. He tried to leap away—tried to escape with her, as he had before—but his wounds slowed him. He collapsed.
Si stood over him. "You don't get to flee twice, beast. This time, you both belong to the kingdom."
He raised his hand. "Imprison them—especially the girl."