That same night, after the quiet warmth of admiring the wooden sculpture, Hunnt lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was dim, bathed in the pale silver light of the moon, which poured in through the open window. Shadows flickered across the walls, dancing as if alive. Pyro curled at the foot of the bed, tail wrapped neatly around his paws, occasionally twitching as he slept, ears flicking toward the soft sounds of the village night.
If I can carve wood like this… Hunnt thought, eyes tracing the patterns in the ceiling. Then maybe… maybe I can shape metal too.
He remembered the clanging of hammers from the village blacksmith, the hiss of molten metal, and sparks flying like miniature stars in the night. Metal feels so alive… heavier, stronger… more permanent than wood. If I can learn to work it… I could make better weapons. Weapons that actually feel like part of me.
Hunnt clenched his small fists unconsciously. And not just for me… for everyone. I can protect them… I can be stronger… someday.
His thoughts wandered further, drifting toward his fists. One day… I'll make a weapon that fits me perfectly. A gauntlet… something that turns my fists into the ultimate weapon… but first, I need a foundation. Strength, speed, endurance… then I'll be ready.
A faint smile crept across his face as he imagined the gauntlet—sleek yet powerful, a perfect extension of himself. Just thinking about it… I can already feel the possibilities.
He glanced at Pyro, whose golden eyes flicked open briefly, observing Hunnt before settling back down. Master is thinking… something big again, nyaah… I'll let him rest tonight. The Felyne yawned, curling tighter into a ball, tail brushing Hunnt's ankle.
Hunnt exhaled, rolling onto his side. The excitement of carving and training still thrummed through him, but tonight, he allowed himself a quiet moment to dream. He pictured the forge: the roaring fire, the metallic scent of molten steel, the heat brushing his face as sparks danced around. He imagined his hands steady and precise, shaping a weapon that could rival any hunter's. Pyro would be beside him, testing the balance of a Sword and Shield, claws tracing the edges, learning and improving with every swing.
Tomorrow… Hunnt whispered to himself. Tomorrow, we continue. I'll carve more weapons, and maybe… I'll start planning the gauntlet.
The night was calm. The village slumbered under a blanket of quiet, the wind rustling gently through the trees, carrying a faint promise of new challenges, new skills, and adventures yet to come. Hunnt's heartbeat slowed, excitement simmering under the surface. Pyro's rhythmic breathing beside him reminded him that he wasn't alone.
Together, they rested, bodies weary but minds alive, hearts ready to greet the next day with determination, courage, and the quiet thrill of dreams yet to be forged.
As sleep began to take him, Hunnt's thoughts lingered on possibilities—techniques he could master, weapons he could craft, and the adventures awaiting him and Pyro. One day… we'll be ready. One day… nothing will stop us.