They had just finished pulling the last twigs out of their furry tails and fluffy ears.
It had hurt. More than they wanted to admit.
Now Rio sat on the cold stone at the edge of their camp, holding his broken arrow in his hands. The shaft was cracked almost in half. It couldn't be saved. He knew that. Still, he turned it slowly between his fingers, as if hope might remain as long as he held on tightly enough.
The iron tip, at least…He removed that carefully.The feathers too.
Filip sat beside him in silence. His gaze wasn't on the arrow, but on Rio himself. The hunt had failed, but he couldn't point to a single reason why. Neither of them had been lazy. Neither had hesitated. They had simply… not been enough.
They weren't trained well enough.
That was all.
Filip drew in a slow breath."We have to start training," he said at last.
Rio nodded without looking up.
That was why Filip had carried two sticks all the way back. They weren't perfect, but they were straight enough. Long enough. Close enough to swords to pretend.
They rested a little longer. Their bodies ached. Their tails were still sore from being yanked free of tangled branches. Their ears itched, stung, throbbed.
But they both knew the same thing.
They only had food for today.
The hunt had to succeed tomorrow.
So they stood up.
They went down into the pyramid, into one of the more open chambers where the floor was relatively even and where they wouldn't risk breaking anything important. Oathkeeper's light no longer reached this far. It was dim. Cool.
Filip handed one of the sticks to Rio.
"We'll start slowly," he said. "Just movements."
Rio took it—and almost lost his balance immediately.
He barely managed to catch himself before falling, but it looked clumsy. His tail slapped against the floor. His ears flattened back on instinct.
Filip said nothing.
They faced each other.
Filip stepped forward and raised his stick. The motion wasn't elegant, but it was steady. His feet were planted firmly. His body followed through.
Rio tried to copy him.
He took one step—too far.The stick swung wide.He tripped over his own tail and went straight down onto one knee.
"Ow—!"
Filip lowered his stick at once. "Are you okay?"
Rio nodded quickly, despite the burning pain. "Yeah. I… keep going."
They continued.
Blow met blow. Wood against wood.Filip wasn't good—but he was better.
He landed hits more often. Blocked more instinctively. Kept his balance even when Rio swung wildly and wrong. But after a while, his grip began to shake.
His hands.
They hadn't healed properly.
After a harder strike, he lost the stick entirely. It slipped from his grasp and hit the floor with a hollow sound.
Filip pulled his hands to his chest and clenched his teeth. Pain flared up his arms like fire.
Rio saw it immediately."We should stop."
Filip shook his head. "A little longer."
They continued anyway.
Not for long.
After a couple of hours, they were both completely exhausted. Their breathing was uneven. Muscles trembled. Rio fell again—this time, he didn't even have the energy to curse.
Eventually, they sat back down in the camp.
No one spoke.
They both knew nothing had changed.
Sticks hadn't made them stronger.They were still hungry.Still slow.Still weak.
After a long while, Filip looked at Rio."I'll start on the last of the food," he said quietly.
Rio nodded.
He rose slowly and walked over to the target they had set up earlier. He picked up the bow. Felt the string. Breathed out.
He shot.
The arrow missed. By several meters.
He shot again.Miss.
Again.Miss.
Everything was wrong. Distance. Angle. Timing. But he noticed something—one way of drawing the string that didn't tear at his shoulders as much. Less force. Less pain.
He still missed every shot.
But he wasn't as exhausted.
He reached for another arrow.
Before he could nock it, a shadow appeared in the doorway behind him.
Filip stood there, framed by the stone opening, holding the small container in his hands.
"…The food's ready," he said quietly.
Rio froze for a moment, then slowly lowered the bow. Not because he wanted to stop—but because there was no choice. He nodded once and set the weapon aside.
They climbed back up together, step by step, until they reached the top of the pyramid once more.
The sun was already sinking.
They sat down on the wide stone steps, close but not touching, and ate in silence. The food was warm. Filling. Final. It didn't taste bad—but it didn't bring comfort either.
Below them, the world stretched out endlessly. Forests darkened. Water reflected fading light. The sky shifted slowly from gold to deep violet.
Neither of them spoke.
Their expressions were bitter. Hollow.
Tomorrow, they would have to hunt again.