The past few days, Beowl has lain unconscious in Tinkclaw's lab, heavily wounded from his loss against the fierce great bat. Two wolves, one petite and the other a powerful warrior, worriedly talk about both his and Void's condition. Roused from his sleep by the ongoing conversation, Beowl's eyes open slightly. His wounds throb with a burning pain, causing him to clench his jaw. Noticing the young wolf awake, Fangor hurriedly rushes over to him.
"Youngling! Don't worry, everything's gonna be alright. Just hang in there." His usual roughness was nowhere to be found, replaced with a frantic worry for his junior. Beside him, Tinkclaw begins checking over the various bandages wrapping his body.
In a weak voice, Beowl asks, "What about… Void?"
Beating Fangor to the chase, Tinkclaw yells, "Don't push yourself to talk! The boy's fine Beowl, nothing more than a few bruises." Having learnt of Void's safety, relief washes over Beowl, and he loses consciousness once again.
Hours later, Beowl's eyes open to an empty room, save for Tinkclaw's usual oddities. His wounds still sting, but the throbbing pain is far less intense. Managing to stand with his wobbly legs, he decides to check up on Void. His eyes flicker in their attempt to locate the boy, a sudden tightness gripping his heart. Void wasn't here. Did Tinkclaw lie?
"V-oid… whe-re are y-ou…" Only these words escape his tight throat before a fit of coughing takes hold. The sound of objects clattering echoes from behind a wall. Tinkclaw rushes out from yet another rotating slab and begins checking on him.
"You idiot… you're in no condition move," admonishes Tinkclaw in a sombre tone. A certain stubbornness in Beowl's eyes signals he wouldn't just rest. "Just take it easy, okay? I'll tell you whatever you want to know." Begrudgingly, Beowl gives in. His ear perks up, and he begins asking what happened.
"Fangor finished off the great bat, and he believes I wore it down?" exclaims Beowl in response to Tinkclaw's wild story. The strenuous movement causes a cut to re-open along his jaw.
"I told you to take it easy, idiot," mumbles Tinkclaw before walking off to find fresh herbal patches. "If you didn't wear it down, then who did?"
"I only managed shallow wounds, it was…" the boy's sinister smile flashes through his mind. Could that really have been Void?
"You stopped partway, who was it?" Having made her way over, Tinkclaw begins tending his bleeding jaw.
"Void."
Tinkclaw pauses for a second, "You're in no condition for jokes." She leans in, waiting for a different response. She's met with a small nod. "Wait, for real?"
"Where is he? Has anything seemed off with him?" A subtle panic plagues Beowl's voice. If Void was still in that sinister state, there was nothing he could do.
Beowl's shaky words linger in the air, met only by Tinkclaw's furrowing brows.
"Void? Nothing seems off with him." A hollow clacking starts from beyond the wall, growing louder with each step. Tinkclaw turns, a hint of excitement in her eyes. "Sounds like that's him now." Entering the room comes Void, his otherwise bleak hair sullied by a distinct lick of black. More shocking to Beowl was his body, draped in a mixture of animal hides. Amongst them, the distinct sheen of leather, dark as the night, stands out.
His first thought slips out, "What strange thing is he wearing?" Beads of utter excitement whizz past, their host's tail wagging uncontrollably. The sight has caused Beowl to make a mistake, one that won't be forgiven until Tinkclaw explains every last detail.
"What strange thing, you ask? Why, it is none other than my greatest creation!" Tinkclaw waltzes to Void's other side, her tail curling around his waist. "Behold! I've constructed the main piece around the great bat's skin. Not only is the material flexible, but it also exhibits outstanding defensive ability!" Her claws run across Void's chest, leaving no mark behind. "But what if it tears? Worry not, for such is impossible! Through careful combining with tough hides from my personal collection, I've managed to boost overall toughness!" She takes a moment to catch her breath. In the next, she gestures downwards. "Did you know, Void's feet provide no natural defence? Recall that clacking from earlier, it came from none other than my solution to his issue. These berserker moose-inspired foot coverings both protect his fragile feet and serve as an additional avenue for offence!" Without pause, she presents Void's hand before Beowl. "At last, behold my original creation! These paw guards not only protect Void's hands but also provide additional grip for handling weaponry." Once again, she pauses, this time to match her gaze with Beowl's. "You mentioned that Void defeated the great bat, correct? Tell me every last detail, so that I can design a weapon. One not only powerful but also perfectly suited for its wielder."
Beowl's tender skin strains with every word exchanged. Satisfied with the details of the strange weapon, Tinkclaw turns to leave.
"Wait…" Beowl's raspy throat strangles his words, seeking to preserve what little moistness remains.
Luckily, Tinkclaw wasn't too absorbed in her own fantasies to reply, "Yes, what is it?"
"Do you… know what that form was?" Beowl's body drags itself closer, desperate to sate his mind's hunger.
"No clue, ask someone else." She dismisses his earnest desire, her focus long since consumed by crafting a perfect weapon. However, in the brief moment their eyes meet, she's distracted by a flicker of guilt. "If you take it easy and don't push too hard, you're free to go ask around." Resisting her temptation to look back, she quickly exits through one of her rotating slabs. A silent thank you parts Beowl's jaw. His muscles' protest goes unheard, his focus solely on who would be best to ask.
Ever since he first encountered Void, Beowl has borne witness to many different gazes. Today, they focus on none other than him. He isn't used to this unyielding pressure, the judgement of others a greater weight than he can bear. On the verge of collapse, the crowd's voices reach his ears. These gazes aren't judging but rather admiring. The children's eyes light up, parents gossip, and the older warriors discuss his severe wounds. Warmth sprouts in his chest. His hard work wasn't for nothing. Beowl remembers how good Fostail's praise felt when he was young. Fostail's pup care feels like the right place to start looking for answers.
"You're more beat up than I heard. I've been looking for you, Beowl." Startled by the deep and vaguely familiar voice, Beowl turns too quickly and pulls a muscle. Standing behind him is none other than one of the three commanders, Steel Fur Talf.
Steel Fur Talf begins in a measured voice, "Your willingness to endure harm for the sake of another at such a young age. Not only am I impressed, but so is Scrowl." The words hang in Beowl's mind, and the admiring gazes suddenly lose all meaning. For any wolf, earning Scrowl's acknowledgement feels unbelievable. Beowl almost collapses, but an incredibly thick paw saves him. "Your injuries must be severe as they seem. Night will soon fall; ensure to return home before then." Beowl's legs sway uneasily, his pain beginning to resurface.
"Could I… may I ask a question?" Talf need not speak; his nod serves as affirmation enough. "What do you… know about Void?"
"Currently, we know nothing about Void's sinister form. For now, I'd recommend sticking to training him." The words aren't what Beowl wants to hear, yet they still manage to temper his curiosity. "One last thing. Once you've recovered, I invite you to join one of my hunting expeditions."
The commander's words leave Beowl speechless during his trip back to Tinkclaw's residence. Not only has he impressed Scrowl, but he's also been invited to join an organised hunt. He braces himself for the reeking stink of Tinkclaw's tunnel. His nose doesn't twitch; the air tastes unusually normal. Passing through the rotating slab, Beowl notices Void scrubbing the walls.
"Wonderful, isn't he? Learnt to clean so well after being shown once." Appearing from nowhere is Tinkclaw, her fur uncharacteristically clean and fluffy.
"Are you saying… while I was struggling to find answers... You taught Void to clean?" In this one moment, his voice is crystal clear. Tinkclaw's eyes drift away, her already small stature seemingly shrinking further.
"I-I'll have his weapon done in a few days, I promise!" Tinkclaw defends her pride as an inventor before quickly bolting away to her workshop. Exhausted by recent events, Beowl is unable to resist his desire for sleep. He finds a comfortable spot before letting his eyes fall, vowing to try his best tomorrow.
When Beowl wakes up the following day, Tinkclaw is already hard at work in her workshop. He calls out, thanking her for looking after him and Void these past few days. Miraculously, she stops working for a second to talk.
"If you're planning to train, help Void learn my brilliant armour. Also, the boy eats meat if it's burned first. I taught him how, so no need to worry." Her voice has returned to its usual excitement, except for a slight sadness. The pair say goodbye for now, with Tinkclaw returning to work and Beowl beginning his trip home with Void. His pace is slower than normal, and the injuries from his fight against the great bat not yet healed. The pair arrive back at Scrowl's sanctuary shortly after second light. Beowl intended to start preparing a training ground right away. His stomach's fervent rumbling decides otherwise. Void's training will have to wait until after they've eaten.
The sound of Void's open hand slap against the wood, the stillness of the tree's many leaves. Nothing about how Beowl fights appears useful when taught to the boy. He has no claws for striking, his teeth too dull for biting and a body too light for ramming. Beowl wonders if Tinkclaw left a hint somewhere in the armour. He signals Void to lie down, then takes a good look at his body. Beowl runs his eyes over Tinkclaw's invention. Something about the paw guards feels off. On the opposite side of the palm, there is a sharp region. Did Tinkclaw intend for this side to be used for striking? Beowl considers the possibility but understands doing so would injure Void. Suddenly, he thinks of something only the boy could do. He carefully moves Void's fingers into a rock-like shape. Void's closed-hand strike impacts the sturdy tree, sending a ripple through its branches and leaving four distinct marks in the bark.
Over the next several days, Beowl continues to develop Void's distinctive battle skills. At first, he focused solely on improving the closed-hand strikes. However, on the second day, he remembers how Tinkclaw mentioned the foot coverings were based on the berserker moose. If that were true, Void may be able to fight with his legs. At first, this idea seemed fruitless. With each attempted kick, Void lost balance and fell. It was when Beowl was on the verge of giving up on the idea that a loud crack rang out. Void had accidentally kicked the tree with his fragile toes. Beowl began running to help but got distracted by branches falling off the tree. It wasn't Void's bones that broke. He checked Void's boots, discovering that the end was made of a harder material. Even without a weapon, the boy was getting stronger. Beowl looked forward to the day his own wounds healed, so that he could personally experience the warrior Void is becoming.
Several days into Void's unarmed training, two wolves appear on the hill, having come to pay a visit.
From atop the hill, a familiar voice booms, "Youngling, how goes your recovery?"
"Fangor! Keep it down, we're not meant to be here, remember?" Tinkclaw admonishes her overly boisterous companion before ramming him. Beowl is shocked as he watches Fangor's bulky frame tumble down the hill.
Hurrying over to his senior, Beowl asks, "Are you alright, Fangor?" In response, he gets nothing but laughter as Fangor jumps back onto his feet.
Fangor begins to speak in a softened voice, "Tinkclaw said you're training Void, right? I've come to secretly help out since you're hurt."
"Does that mean…" Beowl steals a glance at Tinkclaw as she descends the hill, dragging a strange box behind her.
Cutting straight past the pair, Tinkclaw comments, "I'm here to see how my work has been holding up and deliver a present." She begins obsessively checking the state of Void's gear, giving Beowl the chance to catch up with Fangor.
The pair spend quite some time conversing about Void's training and Beowl's injuries before being interrupted.
"You've been getting good use out of my creation, haven't you, Beowl?" A bolt of worry strikes him. Is Tinkclaw about to begin rambling? "While I'd love details, something else comes first."
Beowl cannot help but whisper, "What could be more important to her…" Turning around, Tinkclaw removes the top of the wooden box she had been dragging. Resting within lies a long weapon: one end a sharpened spike, the other a blunt orb.
"I wasn't able to fashion it with twin fin-like shapes you described." Her tail falls still, and her eyes begin to drift. In response, Void stops training and walks over. From the sleeve of his armour, he pulls out a multi-prong object and begins brushing Fostail's fur.
"Fostail, did you really…" Beowl's pent-up annoyance explodes. He lunges straight for Fostail, and Fangor begins laughing hysterically at the sight of them scuffling.