As he rested, pain pulsed from his torso where the crow had been eating at his flesh in the forest. He knew he needed to bandage it, but he had nothing on hand. Strangely, it seemed to be healing on its own.
The healing was slow, a faint blue light glowing from the wound. The light wasn't bright—but if you looked closely, it was there.
His stomach rumbled.
Hunger set in.
He wondered what he could eat… or if he was going to starve.
Suddenly, feathers flapped beside him, startling him. He turned his head to the left and saw a bird with white feathers perched on the windowsill.
It looked at him.
He stayed still, waiting for the bird to come closer. When it hopped from the window to the floor, he lunged. He grabbed it, holding on tightly, and quickly snapped its neck.
He twisted it again just to be sure it was dead. Then, drawing the large, wide sword at his side, he tried his best to prepare the bird—even though the sword was far too big for such a small task.
He cut the bird's head off and began plucking the feathers one by one, making sure to remove them all. Then, he sliced open its belly and pulled out the organs—only to vomit nearby from the sight.
Once that was done, he needed to clean the bird, but he had nothing to clean it with. He reluctantly stepped outside and washed it in the heavy rain. He wasn't sure he was cleaning it properly—or even well enough—but it would have to do.
This was the best he could manage.
He sharpened one of the sticks from his pouch, skewered the bird, and placed it over the fire. Every few minutes, he rotated it, trying to cook it evenly.
Finally, he took the bird off the fire and bit into it. It was dry and gritty—unseasoned, and he could taste the sand still stuck in its flesh. He figured it must've picked up sand while foraging for food on the ground.
After eating, he tossed the bones to the side. He wasn't full, but the hunger wasn't as sharp anymore.
As he rested, he heard something moving in the street.
He peeked out the window.
A wolf.
It was large, and its body wasn't fully made of fur and flesh. Its light blue fur was broken up by green, lizard-like scales covering its back and legs. Its eyes darted around in a wild, frenzied state.
It stood on its hind legs and howled—its howl echoing down the empty village streets. Then, it laughed. The laugh sounded like a hyena's—mocking. But mocking what, exactly?
He wasn't sure.
Suddenly, the wolf snapped its head toward him.
The boy ducked below the window immediately, holding his breath, hoping it hadn't seen him.
He peeked again.
The wolf was gone.
He sighed in relief and leaned back against the wall.
But in the reflection of the massive sword across from him, he saw the very same wolf charging straight at him.
He dove away, grabbing his belongings just as the wolf tried to bite his head off.
Snatching his pouch and sword, he sprinted out of the house, feet pounding against the muddy ground. But he slipped, falling hard into a puddle.
He turned to see the wolf leaping toward him, jaws open wide.
He lifted his arms and brought up his feet, bracing for the attack.
Then—something happened.
Flames burst from underneath his shoes.
The blast launched the wolf backward, the fire scorching its stomach—but it also propelled him across the muddy ground, slamming him into the side of a house.
There was a button on his shoes.
The wolf, now enraged by the burn marks on its body, charged at him again.
This time, the boy rushed toward it, sliding underneath its massive form. He grabbed its fur with one hand, pressed the button on his shoe again—and shot fire straight into the beast's underbelly.
He held on tight.
He didn't let go.
Then—a boom. The wolf's stomach exploded, fire burning through its core.
At last, he pushed the carcass off of him, gasping for breath.
"Stop being a coward and using only your rocket shoes," the watch said, its glow returning.
The boy snarled, his voice raw and tired.
"Shut up! Go back to saying nothing like before."
The watch chuckled, the sound both teasing and disappointed.
"You're not a coward, Ellowen Bellbell. You are a soldier. So stop running."
Ellowen's brows furrowed.
"Oh, so you know my name? And that I'm a soldier? But I didn't?"
The watch was silent for a moment.
Then it spoke again.
"Ah... I see, then. You didn't remember anything about yourself, huh?"
The watch laughed—a mocking, irritating sound that only made Ellowen more furious.
"Well, I suppose I can go slightly beyond my authority… help you remember at least this much."
The watch began to glow brighter.
"Help me with wha—?!"
Ellowen suddenly cried out in pain, clutching his head as a searing agony pierced through his mind.
He yelled—grunted—then collapsed face-first into the muddy ground, the rain still pouring down around him.
Unbeknownst to him, someone was watching.
A blue-haired girl with short hair and crimson eyes stood on the roof of a nearby house. She wore slightly baggy pants, a black-and-light-blue long-sleeved shirt, and a cloak made of crow feathers that flowed in the wind.
She jumped down from the roof and approached Ellowen, her gaze scanning his body, his armor, and his appearance.
"A Knight of Dawn?" she thought. "Haven't seen one of them in forever."
She stood there for a moment, contemplating whether it was a good idea to help him.
Then, with a sigh, she picked him up with one arm and began walking out of the ruined village.