"He did what?!"
The knight's voice cracks an octave as he points at the smoking crater where the dragon crash-landed.
"He threw a stick. *A stick.*"
Another knight clears his throat. "Technically, it was more of a branch—"
"That's not the point!" The first knight straightens his posture, trying to reassemble his dignity. "That's not physically possible!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Brian, are you a dragonologist now?"
"For the last time, I'm not Brian!"
"Well, somebody better be, because we are absolutely writing a report about this and I am not doing the paperwork alone."
A pause.
"…Can we write 'mysterious pink-haired, different-colored-eyed stranger disappeared into the woods after committing casual dragon violence'?
"Well," another knight coughs. "He didn't exactly disappear. He just… walked off"
The others ignore him, already deep in argument.
"That's not going to sound any better no matter how you phrase it."
"I think it sounds cool," says a younger knight helpfully. "We should give him a title. Like… The Dragon Slapper."
"Oh god, please don't."
"And the dog-boy went with him! Maybe he's his sidekick?"
"Or his handler."
"Or his boyfriend."
…
"I don't think that's relevant to the report."
"It's relevant to my mental image."
---------------------------------------------------------------
The two boys walk in silence for a while. The dog-boy keeps glancing at the trees,
"…W-we're not going in a c-circle, are we?" he asks softly.
"Don't know," the pink-haired boy replies.
He doesn't sound worried. Just factual.
The dog-boy glances at him, then looks down. His ears twitch once.
A small rustle draws their attention. A bird launches itself from a branch above, scattering leaves into the air.
The dog boy startles, the other does not.
They walk a little further until the pink-haired boy stops abruptly.
There's a tree ahead—an enormous, half dead tree with a hollowed-out center like a doorway. Its bark curls like burned paper. Vines dangle from the top like an old curtain.
"…woah," the dog-boy murmurs, stepping closer. "Is that… n-natural?"
"Dunno," the pink-haired boy replies.
He walks right up to the hollow, peering inside. It's empty—except for a faint smear of something silver along the inner walls. It pulses slightly in the dim light.
He reaches out a hand.
"W-wait—" The dog-boy says, half panicked. "W-we don't know what is d-does--!"
But the boy's already touched it.
The silver blinks once. Then fades—like breath vanishing on glass.
"…huh," he mutters, pulling his hand back. "That was weird."
He stares at his palm, turning it slowly. Whatever that feeling was—it lingers, faint and unplaceable.
The dog-boy just stares at him. "Y-you—you just—what if it w-was cursed?!"
"Would've found out." He shrugs, already walking again. "Too late now."
The dog-boy gapes for a beat, eyes darting between the tree and boy. Then—muttering to himself—he hurries to catch up.
"I-it looks magical," he says, voice quieter now. "L-like… r-really old magic…"
"Yeah, it felt… familiar."He frowns faintly. Like he's trying to remember something.
The dog-boy stops.
"Familiar?"
But the pink-haired boy doesn't answer. He keeps walking.
And this time, the dog-boy doesn't ask again.
They walk in silence. Just a few steps more.
Then—
The pink-haired boy grabs the dog-boy by the collar and yanks him down.
The dog-boy yelps as they hit the ground, leaves and dirt flying up.
SWOOSH.
An arrow slices through the air just above where his head had been a second ago. It buries itself deep into a tree with a vibrating thunk.
"Wh-What--?" the dog-boy gasps, heart racing.
The shaft of the arrow still vibrating.
"Shh." The boy raises a finger to his lips.
From somewhere distant, the faint clash of metal and low, brutal grunts drifts through the trees.
"someone's fighting," he murmurs. "You hear that?"
"Th-that's so far away though… H-How can an arrow travel so f-fast…?"
The boy shrugs, peeks through the bushes toward the sound, then stands up and starts walking in the opposite direction.
"W-Wait… what if h-he needs help...? It s-sounds brutal…" The dog-boy says, eyes wide.
The pink-haired boy glances back.
Through the bush, a tall ranger is locked in combat with a massive, tusked, boar-like beast.
"Looks like he doesn't need help."
"B-But…"
A shriek--loud, monstrous--rips through the forest.
"Seems he won." The boy says flatly.
A pause. Just wind and leaves.
The forest is quiet. But it was too quiet.
Then—snap
A twig breaks.
The dog-boy tenses, tail low, ears twitching.
The pink-haired boy glances sideways.
Something moves between the trees.
Leaves shift. Branches sway.
A tall figure steps barely visible beneath the canopy. A wooden-carved bow is already drawn--arrow nocked--aimed at their heads.
His voice is calm, low, and far too serious for someone covered in monster guts.
"Who goes there?"
The dog-boy squeaks. The pink-haired boy doesn't flinch.
"What?" he calls back.
"I said, " the ranger frowns. "who goes there?"
"Can't hear you. Walk over."
Another pause.
The ranger does not lower his bow, but walks forward—Slow, deliberate, boots crunching through dead leaves.
As he approaches, they take in the rest of him:
A long, grim face streaked with mud and dried blood. A jagged scar trailing down his jaw. A single dented bracer. Worn leather armor and knee pads. A ratting quiver of mismatched arrows
His bow remains steady.
"Who goes there?" He says again. Same tone. Same level of threat.
"Me?" The pink-haired boy asks, hands in his pockets.
"…Yes. And him, The dog-boy."
"I-I-I…" The dog-boy stammers, half hiding behind his companion. "S-sorry—w-we didn't mean to—"
"Not telling." The pink-haired boy cuts in.
The ranger stares at them for a long moment.
"…Fair enough," He says, dropping the dramatic tone but not the seriousness. "You heading to a village?"
"what's a village?" The boy asks, head tilting slightly.
A long silence.
Crickets.
The dog-boy gives a panicked look at the ranger.
The ranger stares at them in silence. His eyes flicking between the two.
He squints. "Seriously?"
"Yes."
"…Huh."
Another beat. The ranger holds the bow for one second longer, then lowers it-- Calmly. Like it was never a threat. He swings it across his back. The string settles across his chest. He tucks the arrow away with neat precision.
"you're…statistically abnormal," he says.
He brushes a twig off his shoulder, revealing a faint smear of gore across one gauntlet. His face is unreadable. Voice still deadpan.
"let's go together."
"Y-you k-know where the n-nearest village is?" The dog-boy asks, voice small but hopeful.
"No. I'm lost."
He says without an ounce of shame. Not even a blink.
The dog-boy blinks instead. The pink-haired boy does not react.
"…You're weird," The pink-haired boy replies, perfectly flat..
The ranger nods like this is reasonable.
He adjusts the bow on his back and starts walking. He doesn't say "follow me," but the direction is clear.
The pink-haired boy waits a beat, then follows.
The dog-boy hesitates, glancing around nervously—then hurries after them.
They walk for a while. Not speaking. Just the crunch of leaves and distant birdsong.
Then:
"So, what are you doing in this forest?" the ranger asks, not looking back.
"don't know just woke up." The pink-haired boy replies.
"…you don't really know a lot, do you?"
Another pause
"w-w-well…" the dog-boy says, breaking the silence. "h-he doesn't remember a-anything…"
"An amnesiac, running around a dangerous forest," The ranger replies. "A novel classic."
The pink-haired boy shrugs. "Amnesiac…"
The three keep walking.
----------------------------------------------------------------
A little while later, they reach a shallow stream. The dog-boy jumps across; the other two just walk through it.
The dog-boy shakes off his feet like a wet puppy.
"…So are we, uh… t-traveling together?" he asks carefully.
"No," bob replies.
"Yes," says the pink-haired boy at the same time.
They glance at each other.
"…We're headed the same way," the ranger amends, after a pause.
"Which way's that?" the pink-haired boy asks.
The ranger shrugs. "Forward."
"…o-okay," the dog-boy says, unsure if that counts as an answer.
They walk on. Light dabbles through the trees above.
After a while, the ranger glances sideways at the pink-haired boy.
"You really don't know what a village is?"
"Nope."
"Huh."
Another beat.
"…And you touched the tree back there."
"Yep."
"You could be cursed."
"Too late."
The ranger nods like that makes perfect sense.
"H-he's not joking…" The dog-boy says nervously.
"…So, someone gonna explain what a village is or what?" the pink-haired boy cuts in.
"A village is somewhere where a bunch of people live. Usually near a river. Sometimes with goats." The ranger replies, deadpan.
-------------------------------------------------------
They walk until the sun dips low behind the trees.
The pink-haired boy stops and looks up. "it's getting dark."
The dog-boy starts gathering twigs. He keeps glancing around, ears twitching at every sound.
The ranger kneels, strikes a flint, and sparks a small fire to life. He moves like he's done this a thousand time—efficient, quiet, precise. The flames flicker and dance in the gathering dusk.
They sit in a loose triangle around the fire. Quiet. The kind of silence that isn't awkward. Just new.
Eventually the dog-boy speaks up awkwardly, "W-we—y-you don't really… t-talk much.."
Silence again. No response to the dog-boys' statement.
The pink-haired boy stares into the flames. Still as a statue.
The ranger leans back on one arm, watching the shadows.
Then—
Rustle
A branch snaps.
The ranger's bow is in his hand in half a second. The pink-haired boy doesn't flinch.
But it's just a fox. Small. Darting through the bush.
The dog-boy relaxes, "C-cute.."
The ranger lowers his bow again.
"Don't relax too much," he mutters. "Something ominous has been following us."
The pink-haired boy doesn't look surprised. Just shrugs.
"Might catch up. Might not."
The ranger glances at him. "Your behavior is... statistically abnormal."
"Is it?"
"…yeah," the ranger says. "Same with him." He points at the dog-boy.
The dog-boy just lets out a small laugh, breaking the serious atmosphere.
"I-I guess, w-we're all weird then."
No one disagrees.
They stare at the dog-boy until they both nod.
That's the first thing they all agree on.
They sit in silence as the fire crackles.
Three silhouettes beside a fire, deep in the woods.
Unlikely allies.
And just beyond the trees, something's watching.
Waiting.