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The resonating sound of footsteps, cautious upon the soggy ground, was picked up upon a pack of rabbits running about. As the little creatures scattered across the wet-grass meadow, raindrops forming and cascading down poplar leaves, two boys hiding in the bushes arrived at the scene. “Damn it,” cursed Aether under his breath, “we’ve lost them.”
His grey-haired companion, in turn, replied with a solitary silence; his hooded figure, gangly and yet short, stood crooked along the trees’ shadows. All of a sudden, he started sniffing something in the air. “Rabbit.”
“Hm? Where?”
Razor pointed north, damp hair clinging to his forehead. Aether, who has sought shelter in-between the bushes, wiped the little drops of rainwater clinging to the other boy’s forehead; upon further inspection, it seemed that almost the entirety of his vision must have been shrouded by the wet locks. “How do you see everything?” the blonde inquired, and, upon noticing the other boy’s arched brow, continued: “As in… isn’t it hard to see when you’re all wet from the rain?”
“No,” he spoke, and Aether could tell he still, in the end, could not fathom the ins and outs of human speech. The way the sounds dropped from his mouth, akin to a poor man seeking gold nuggets in the mountain spring, was rare and inexperienced. He supposed he could relate, never having been one for expressing emotion. But he could do so, and Razor couldn’t; so would it not have been better for them to switch places, trade skills? Before going off into a tangent in his mind, Aether’s glove was pulled on by the wolfboy. “Rabbit. There. We will lose them again.”
The way they cut down the rabbits is nothing inhumane, and yet there is nothing gentle about it, either; you strike down an animal, you skin it, you cook it. It's as simple as that. The way the rabbits’ little fur coats, tainted grey with the last fleeting days of the summer and its nightly warmth, were painted a flush red, with the iron-like, tangy scent of ichor upon them, never failed to make Aether go sick in the stomach; Lumine, he remembered, would always enjoy skinning animals, and it was upon her brother to cook them.
Having returned back to camp, Bennett had lit them a fire, all the while chatting with Chongyun about trivialities and such; skinning the rabbits with Razor, Aether could only sigh at the very memory of his sister.
The wolfboy gazed up at his blonde companion, softly grazing his braided hair. “Do you feel okay?”
Startled at the very sentiment of care, Aether’s heartbeat pacened immediately; the two other boys seemed preoccupied in each other’s company, and hence, he supposed there was no point in concealing his thoughts anymore. After all, he supposed, they did get along - the two of them, Aether and Razor, - did they not? Little hunting trips aside, the wolf spirit accompanying Razor had even interacted with Aether on several occasions. He fathomed that was a sign of good spirit, was it not? “I- Well, skinning rabbits always reminded me of my sister. She excelled at it.” his voice, usually boisterous, now grew into barely a whisper. “She was a good hunter… I wonder where she is now.”
A hand brushed upon his shoulder. “Your sister… must be a good person. Very skilled. I do not have human family. I have lupical. But…” as he spoke, his gaze trailed off from the raw rabbit meat and up to Aether’s eyes, “...family, it can be more than who you grew with it. Does it make sense?”
“I reckon it does,” Aether sighed contentedly as he stabbed the little skewers over the meat and hung them on top of the cooking-pot lit aflame; Razor followed suit with his motions - and he knew the wolfboy was used to eating animal prey raw, but the very gesture of sincerity that mimicking his friend’s motions made something hurt in Aether’s chest. “Does that make us family, of sorts?”
“I think so.” Razor, for the first time he has heard him, seems to have a tone reminiscent to that of a chuckle. He watches the meat cook, silently, as their two other companions keep chatting; Aether wonders if humanity is something inherently good. In the end, what were morals but made up sentiments? - that is what he had thought before meeting Razor; being raised by a wolf pack and yet having the goodwill of a kind human being, his very personality contrasted with Aether’s assumptions.
As the silver-haired boy rested his head atop Aether’s shoulder, he supposed such thoughts were to be saved for another, rainier day.