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Kyle was born a Hunter.
Some of his earliest childhood-memories contained swords and arrows, hours spent sweating at the training grounds. He’s handled carving-knifes before he knew how to walk; tagged along to his father’s hunts as soon as he learned to stay quiet.
He’s a Hunter; it’s in his blood, his cells. It’s rooted into his DNA, just as irreversible as his blond hair.
Everywhere he goes, no matter how far he ventures from home, that single fact follows him around like a shadow; the weight of armor on his back reminding him of his purpose, his calling.
Even after partnering up with the Rider, as they referred to themselves, in order to investigate the strange happenings as of late, he couldn’t just turn his back on his duty.
After all, how could he? Hunting was what he was born for; and once started, there was no going back. It was thrilling, exciting; like sugar and heroine, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and dripping from his bleeding cuts like poison from a Nerscylla’s stinger. Terrifying, of course, too. But as his father liked to say; there was nothing bringing you down to earth like a Great Jagras chewing on you for lunch.
With that in mind, it was only natural for his instincts to scream when confronted with “Riders”.
The concept alone was equally confusing and interesting to him... of course, humans –and Wyverians too, as it seemed- were known to pack-bond with practically everything, sentient or not, but.... Monsters? Those beasts that were literal forces of nature, that were known to leave behind trails of destructions if they as much as ventured past their usual hunting-grounds? That could easily kill a human with a single swipe of their claws, a single snap of their teeth?
Kyle tries not to think about it too much. As he does with many things these days; truth to be told.
He’s a born Hunter, and that’s why he can’t say “No” to any quest thrown his way. Even when the quests are obviously way out of his skill-level.
It was approximately when the venom started to kick in that he started to curse his over-confidence; his weak, feverish body more than welcomed to the idea of passing out in the dirt, paying no mind to the Queen Nerscylla watching him from the shadows.
He was set out into Loloska’s snowy forests, armed to the teeth with Hot Drinks, poison-arrows and shock-traps- the fight had barely begun and when Kyle had chugged his last Mega-Potion, he realized he set out in this quest woefully unprepared.
The young Hunter took pride in his knowledge, his skill out in the field- but when fighting against a Queen, knowledge only brings you so far. In general, Queens and Kings were rare- they were Monsters that had outfought, outlived, outbred any other creature in that area, and Hunters weren’t supposed to let any Monster get this far. Kyle didn’t want to know how long this Nerscylla had lived in the depths of the forest, nursed to countless clusters of eggs; without ever showing itself in the light of day.
Perhaps if the pits had never appeared; food hadn’t become so scarce in that part of the forest, it would’ve still kept itself hidden; left the hunting to the weaker members of its pack, continued to grow stronger.
And hell, it was moments like these he wished for his father to be by his side; not recovering at the medical bay in their base camp, far away from here. How he wished for his father to scoop him up in his strong grasp, take the temnoceran out in a few trained shoots, then proceed to lecture Kyle about what he was thinking; if he planned on becoming the shadow spider’s next meal.
But alas; he was alone. Not even Tsukino was with him; the Felyne had hurried back to the village for backup after realizing what they were up against. God, how he wished he had listened to her- the fear in his partner’s eyes upon whispering “A Queen” should’ve given him all he needed to know that he wouldn’t win this.
If it was only the sheer size of this thing that classified it as a Queen- but no. Whereas any other Nerscylla had long perished, this one just didn’t seem to care about any of his hits.
An arrow, directly to its face? The beast reared its head, shooting a sticky load of cobwebs in his direction. And while Kyle struggled to get free, the spider calmly used its legs to dislodge the arrow, break it in half with the leg-like structures at its mouth as if it were nothing but a mere twig.
Kyle had never seen behavior like this in a Monster. Any other Nerscylla would’ve slumped into the dirt, cowering in pain as he surely would’ve taken an eye out with his direct hit, this one just wouldn’t stop leading him on, charge after charge; as if it was playing with its prey.
Hell, it probably was.
Frankly, there was nothing stopping this creature from just walking up to him and injecting him with another load of venom, killing him on the spot. But no; as Kyle lied there in the dirt, blood clumping in his hair and eyelashes, the spider curiously watched him writhe in pain as the venom worked its way through his body.
Kyle’s vision swims, drool dripping from his chin; mixing in with the hot tears falling from his eyes. His body is hot, feverish, clammy with sweat as he tries to blink through the haze of venom-
It’s then when the Queen settles over him, almost sheltering him with her massive frame. These strange, leg-like pinchers at the Monster’s mouth move, almost like she’s saying something; of course, all Kyle hears are useless clicks, horror gripping him in an iron-grasp as he spots clear drops forming on the tips of those fangs.
It’s poison, his drugged mind supplies unhelpfully.
Maybe it’s the fact that he’s practically staring death in the eye –or eight eyes, in this case- but somehow, Kyle’s numbed fingers find their way into his waist-satchel. And between the empty containers of Mega-Potions and destroyed shock-traps, he finds a lone barrel-bomb; he remembers putting it in there “Just in case”. But now, this might be his savior.
Honestly, he doesn’t know whether it’s the venom already working its way to his brain or the adrenaline practically making his blood boil; but before he knows it, the blistering heat of an explosion grazes his face, a horrible, shrill roar pierces the silence of the forest and he’s up running.
The young Hunter’s mind blurs and twists, his body feeling as if he’s being burned alive- wet strands of hair stick to his clammy forehead, sticky webs clinging to every inch of his armor. When Kyle makes the mistake of looking down at his bruised hands, he imagines to see himself crawling with tiny spiders; as if they dropped from the Queen when she settled over him-
With a shrill cry, he shucks off his chest-armor with no regards for the possibility of the Queen following him; not about to let the prey get away. But he can’t help it; not with the feeling of thousands of tiny legs shuffling over his body, digging their way into his skin, settling deep in his bones.
Kyle rakes his nails up and down his exposed skin; scratches and claws until the spiders are gone, scratches until there’s dried blood collecting under his fingernails.
Even with his brain practically melting inside of his skull, Kyle knows he’s got to find shelter somewhere- there's no way he’ll track his way back to Kuan-village, not with the risk of a Queen coming for him. Not that he even knows where the hell he is right now.
A dumb, blissful grin spreads over his face. Kyle doesn’t know why he’s grinning, hell- he can barely feel his body. He might die out in this forest, absolutely tripping on venom, and all he can muster is a stupid grin.
God, if Tsukino does return with back-up, he hopes that his partner will smack some goddamn sense into him.
But until then, he has to find shelter somewhere. Heh. Normally, his idea of ‘shelter’ is setting up camp, but in his current state, he isn’t even sure if he’d manage to properly start a fire.... probably not, given how the poison was slowly starting to numb his fingers.
His best bet had to be a cave of some sorts- but sadly, it was very likely that whatever cave he managed to find was a Monster’s den... and if he didn’t die of hypothermia before making it out of the cold, chances were high that he’d just end up as a Monster’s lunch. Maybe they’d feed him to their young, who knows.
Heh. Maybe they’d get hit with the venom cursing through his veins and join him on his trip.
The young Hunter wasn’t expecting to wake up.
Kyle blinks, tries to figure out where his drugged state had landed him- his surroundings are dark and empty, his every muscle feels sore and numb. And he’s tired, god... so awfully tired.
With stiff, clumsy hands, he feels around, tries to at least get a mental image if his eyes wouldn’t work- beneath his fingertips, he feels moss, smooth rocks, small splinters of some sorts.
Bones? Perhaps he managed to find the nest of Plunderers before passing out in the dirt?
Blankly, he looks down on himself, only for a shivery sigh to emerge from his throat. Possible that he cried himself to sleep, his body being wrecked by feverish cramps, and he’s got nothing left to give.
With poison-numbed fingers, he tries to reach into his waist-satchel, retrieve his carving-knife. He’s covered in sticky-cobwebs, and dirt, his chest absolutely caked with dried blood. For a moment, Kyle finds himself wondering where his chest-armor went- before the memory zaps through his brain, of how he shucked it off in his poisonous frenzy; convinced that he’s been infested with spiders.
Goddamnit. He worked hard for that armor.
But now’s not the time for regretting his own stupidity- he's itching to get rid of the last remaining webs, the faintest hint of spiders shuffling over his body sitting in the back of his mind whenever the wind moves the delicate silk.
It’s quite a miracle how he managed to cut himself free without injuring himself in the process; his dexterity slowly returns as he grips onto the knife, but for the rest of his body?
It’s clear he hasn’t worked through the poison yet, and even in his feverish state, Kyle is sentient enough to know it borders on suicide; going out there and attempting to find his way back on his own.
No. This hunt was filled with enough stupid decisions to last him a lifetime. His only chance of surviving this idiotic stunt of his is waiting for Tsukino to return with back-up; hopefully before night.
In the next few hours, Kyle continued to drift in and out of conscience, the venom continuing to work its way through his body. And without healing-items on him, all the young Hunter could do was lie there and suffer through the waves of pain.
After a while, Kyle finds himself in a delirious state, mumbling to the Sapphire Star to be kind on him and allow him to pass out; digging his fingers into the dirt and curl up in a fetal position whenever the feverish cramps got too much.
Being granted his wish, it’s not long before the comforting darkness pulls him into its sweet embrace once more.
Kyle awakens to the sound of pebbles tumbling and leaves crunching; something approaching him. Deep inside, he’s almost hopeful that it may have been the promised back-up; but quickly, his trained ears pick up on the eager buzzing of his scoutflies, starting to grow nervous in their cage; still strapped to his hip-guard.
At first, the young Hunter toys with the idea of playing dead- knowing that most predators will leave corpses be, not interested in prey that’s not moving anymore. But with the steady stream of whimpers and exhausted groans tumbling from his swollen lips, there’s no way this Wyvern would fall for it. The Sapphire Star really wanted to rub into his face how stupid he’s been, huh?
His eyes, previously fallen close due to exhaustion, clench shut; at this point, Kyle is confident in saying there’s no way he could fight off a hungry Wyvern; not when he’s injured and still suffering under a poison. Maybe it’s better if he can’t look death in the eye- this time, at least. His mind, still drugged and hazy, makes eager work of fabricating a twisted and distorted image of the Queen Nerscylla; looming over him with her venom-dripping fangs. Maybe she came back to finish the job, maybe she sent her pawns after him, he doesn’t know.
As if from far off, he can hear claws scratching against smooth stone as the Wyvern settles down not far from him; its eyes practically burning through him.
The tense atmosphere remains for a few minutes; in which Kyle’s ragged breathing soon joins his racing heartbeat. Gathering his willpower, Kyle opens his eyes to look at what he’s been avoiding-
Instead of the temnoceran, watching him through her eight eyes; fangs eagerly dripping with enough venom to take out a fully-grown Rathalos... there, in the shadows of the cave, sits a.... Lagombi?
The Wyvern watches him, tilting its ears in an almost curious manner, and... somehow, despite knowing that these massive, Fanged Beasts are usually rather docile, Kyle can’t help but feel an uneasy, squirming feeling make its way up his spine upon being up-close with the creature; especially when he’s injured and evidently unable of defending himself.
However... despite being “friends” with a Rider and having sat through the “Monsters are our friends”-talk way too often for his taste, Kyle still finds himself utterly surprised that the Lagombi doesn’t seem to show any interest in.... hurting him....?
It’s possible that the smell of his blood had attracted the beast, but... if that was the case, then... why wasn’t it doing anything...?
It wouldn’t take this creature any more than a swipe of its claws to take him out, so why was it just sitting there, watching him? Gods, Kyle knew that he looked like shit, but that didn’t mean that the Lagombi had to make him feel bad for it..?
The Hunter grunts as he pushes himself up on his elbows, his entire body protesting at the sudden movement by sending a wave of dizzying nausea down his spine. Attempting to swallow the bile, building up in his throat, back down, Kyle pushes himself back against the smooth wall of the cave- or whatever he was sitting in right now.
With his face distorted in pain, Kyle returns the Lagombi’s stare- as if both of them were waiting for the other to react.
And to his horror, the Wyvern does. It lifts itself up and takes a few curious steps towards the young Hunter. And somehow.... it seems to pay attention to approach him carefully, almost... as if it didn’t want to startle him?
The wombat-like creature slowly comes closer, until it sits down almost directly in front of Kyle; tucking its paws under its massive body. Kyle only scoffed whenever the Rider referred to this pose as “loafing” but now... he could see it. Did the Lagombi decide that he was currently in such a pitiful state that he wouldn't be able to hurt it, driving it to hide its own murder-weapons too?
God, this was too much for Kyle’s feverish brain. He came out here to hunt down a Queen Nerscylla, not to psycho-analyze an oversized rabbit.
With a groan, he spares the Lagombi another wary glance before deciding that, if it wanted to kill him, it would’ve already done it; finally allowing himself to let his shoulders slump, stretching his injured body as best as he can. As the two Hunters lie there in silence, Kyle can’t help but wonder- what exactly is going on in the Wyvern’s mind?
For him, it’s a fairly easy answer. While he fortunately has worked through the worst of the poison, no longer sweating like a mossswine, he was still dazed and finds himself accept the Lagombi’s company way too easily.
Shifting a little on the uncomfortable, hard ground, is fingers somehow manage to grab one of the tiny splinters that have been bugging him for the past few hours- and upon closer inspection –his mind the tiniest bit clearer than before- he can finally identify the splinters as remains of Bnahabra.
And with that simple realization, it dawns on Kyle.
Lagombi are insectivore. The Wyvern hadn’t been attracted by the smell of his blood, nor was it watching him because he was an easy prey in its mind. But then... why was it here....?
While Kyle had worked through the worst, his breathing was still labored- and upon attempting to shift into a more comfortable position, he soon finds himself groaning and clutching at his sides, high-pitched whines tumbling from his lips before he can stop them.
And the Lagombi, it suddenly reacts too; it pushes itself up on massive paws and walks over to the young Hunter, quite frankly too focused on his pain to notice. Its large ears twitch curiously as it hovers over Kyle, seemingly concerned for the obviously pained noises coming from the human. Not that Kyle would know- he's sure the Rider would’ve already attempted to pet the oversized bunny, but the Sapphire Star knows he’s not that desperate for death yet. After all, while Lagombi are known for their docile nature, they can turn into aggressive beasts once threatened, and god knows what this creature deemed threatening-
A large snout suddenly presses against the side of Kyle’s face, leaves behind wet trails as it curiously sniffs at him. Honestly, the sudden movement startled Kyle enough to snap out of his delirious stare, stare up through the haze of pain and sweat and blistering heat, straight into the Wyvern’s eyes-
And when he does, all he sees is.... kindness.
The small, red eyes don’t hold any hostility within them- in some ways, it reminds him of the docile Popo wandering around Kuan Village, and the Lagombi seems so awfully intrigued by this strange being that tumbled into its nest-
Wait.
Its nest?
Kyle strains his bleary eyes against the sluggish sensation of sleep so stubbornly clinging to the edges of his vision; and only now, he notices the vague shape of a nest, resting further in the depths of the cave. Did he... seriously collapse in a Lagombi’s den.... and survive...?
Gods, at this point he fully deserved the verbal ass-whooping he was sure to receive the moment he set foot into Kuan again.
He’s not sure whether the temperature just drastically dropped or if it’s the realization of where he’s lying that made his shivering so much worse; but apparently, the Lagombi notices. And without giving him a moment to process, the Monster helps; nesting the young Hunter close to its fat belly to share its heat with him.
Perhaps... it didn’t see him as prey from the beginning on, but... as an injured pack-member?
It was possible, if only from the noises he was making. But quite frankly, Kyle had hit a point where he was too exhausted to care, the constant fight against the venom having stolen so much energy from him that he was about ready to accept anything. And so, he stared up into the creature’s face once more, noted how it was still curiously watching him; like a Felyne might watch their kittens.
“Don’t bite me, okay?”, Kyle mutters out loud, his voice raspy and sluggish. With clumsy fingers, he pulls off his glove and offers the back of his hand to the Monster.
No time to panic. The Rider had insisted on teaching Kyle a few basic things, should he ever find himself in a situation, similar to this. Right now, he felt awfully thankful for it, but... he wasn’t expecting to use it so soon, though.
Curiously, the Lagombi lowers its head and sniffs at the offered hand. Without meaning to, Kyle finds himself pinching his eyes shut, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he feels a rough tongue lick over his bruised skin.
Huh. Somehow, it wasn’t so bad. Rubbing his fingers against the Wyvern’s wet snout, he mumbles more to himself than to it, “You’re my buddy now, huh?”
The Lagombi sneezed before continuing to look at him with those curious eyes, and gods; before he knew it, Kyle found himself relaxing into its fat belly, feeling like a reptile desperately seeking heat as the night’s chill started to settle deep within his bones.
He feels the Wyvern shift a little; though, he pays surprisingly little mind to it, a wave of sleepiness washing over him and pulling him under like the waves would crash into the shore; dragging anything with them without a care in the world. Before Kyle can do anything, the Lagombi grabs him by his corset; suddenly, he feels reminded of the way mother-Felynes would pick up their kittens.
The Lagombi walks over to its nest and falls to a lay, dropping Kyle into the soft moss besides it. Using its massive body, it curls around the young Hunter to shield him from the cold; and as the temperatures outside continued to drop, Kyle was oddly okay with being this close to a wild Monster.
“You got a nice home,” he muses after a while, noticing how there’s a few stray pieces of shell poking out from the soft moss he’s lying on. The Lagombi all but sneezes again, curling around him a little tighter after its sensitive ears pick up on something outside.
Minutes go by where he’s nestled into the Lagombi’s thick fur, then it’s hours, and before he knows it, Kyle twitches awake from a power-nap; despite desperately wanting to give into sleep’s sweet embrace nagging him for the past hours, he can’t afford this luxury yet.
Falling asleep anywhere but camp is a death-sentence out in the field, he hears his father’s voice calling from deep within his head. Night has fallen long ago, the cold most-probably unbearable if it weren’t for the Lagombi so kindly sharing its heat.
Speaking of Lagombi- its ears perk up again, picking up on noises outside. It growls a little, securely wrapping around Kyle, as if to protect him; but then, a few scoutflies make their way into the cave before settling on Kyle’s clammy forehead.
Scoutflies.
Tsukino?
Someone was coming for him. Kyle attempts to peak over the Lagombi’s massive form; he can barely make out their form, but... is that... the Rider?
Gods, they are! Not so subtly hiding behind their oversized lizard, but.... they actually came for him. Not once had Kyle expected to be so glad to see them.
They step out of the shadows, carefully following the scoutflies to the Lagombi’s nest. Heh... when he and the Rider had first decided to work together, Kyle had insisted on teaching the scoutflies each other’s scent. Back then, the Rider thought of it as ‘overkill’, but lo and behold... there was a reason as to why it was standard-practice for Hunters.
They get closer to the nest, Tsukino –Kyle now realizes- following close behind them. A few feet away, they halt in their steps, a worried gaze in his Palico’s eyes upon seeing the Lagombi.
Apparently, he’s still hidden behind the Wyvern’s massive size. Tsukino and the Rider warily circle the Lagombi, not quite understanding why the scoutflies led them here when there’s no sign of Kyle-
With aching muscles, he pushes himself up and peeks out from behind the Wyvern, his raspy voice asking practically whispering “Tsukino?”
That alone seemed to be enough for the Lagombi to release all tension in its body; relaxing back into its nest upon realizing that its wounded charge knows these people.
“Kyle?”, Tsukino asks as she steps closer, careful to not upset the Wyvern. “Current status?”
“Feeling like shit,” the Hunter sighs, letting himself slump against the Lagombi once more. “Thank the Sapphire Star you came.”
The Rider takes this as their cue to come closer, dropping a bag into the nest; hopefully containing an antidote... or at the very least, a potion. As they start to retrieve items from the bag, Kyle isn’t disappointed- apart from the standard first-aid kits, they had also brought bandages and antidotes, already starting to look him over for injuries.
Tsukino –thankfully, she doesn’t go into her usual spiel of chiding him for being irresponsible- offers him a bottle of water, which Kyle puts to his lips and promptly empties in one go. After sweating bullets for the past few hours, replacing some of the fluid in his system was desperately needed.
“Hey,” he mutters after a while as the Rider does their best to dress his wounds, letting himself slump further against the Lagombi’s fat belly. “Care to answer a question?”
The Rider doesn’t look up from the task at hand, apparently trying to figure out if the gash on his torso needs to be sewn up or not. “Sure, what’s up?”
“Why do you give a flying fuck about my well-being?”
“Because I care about you?”
Kyle can barely conceal the snort, emerging from the depths of his throat. “Oh please, and here I was, thinking you’ve got standards.”
After patching up the worst of his wounds, the Rider helps Kyle up, putting one of his arms around their shoulders to support him. But somehow, the Hunter finds himself locking eyes with the Lagombi, looking at him through those curious, red eyes.
“Say thanks to it,” the Rider says, an unfamiliar seriousness crossing their face. “You owe it your life.”
Kyle swallows; they’re right. If it weren’t for the Wyvern so kindly sharing its body-heat with him, he’d long be dead.
With one hand, he reaches out to it- and without really expecting it to, the Lagombi raises its head, pressing its wet snout into the offered palm.
“...Thank you, Monst- …thank you, Friend.”