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He's been studying woodworking and palistrom magic for several months now, apprenticing under the best palisman maker the Isles have seen since Caleb Wittebane and Evelyn Clawthorne — though Hunter supposes it makes sense that the craft would get passed down through the generations.
He'd started small, working his way up from simple geometric shapes to scale models of his friends' palismen, until one day, every available space across his desk, dresser, and bookshelves held a veritable army of little red cardinals and mystical wolves, varying in shape and size until he'd finally gotten them both just right.
It's early afternoon in late summer, and as per usual, Hunter has come along with the rest of the gang to pay a visit to the Clawthorne household for his weekly lesson. Only this time, instead of taking him to his workshop and teaching Hunter how to hone his skills, Dell leads him to a little clearing hidden just beyond the edge of the backyard, where a magnificent palistrom tree, grown in secret from a seedling, stands tall.
"It's taken many years, but the magic of the palistrom wood is finally ready to be harvested," Dell tells him, smiling down at Hunter's awestruck expression as he passes on his favorite whittling knife. "And I believe that you are finally ready to carve your first palisman."
"You would let me take a piece of the only palistrom tree on the whole Isles? One you've been painstakingly nurturing, and managed to keep hidden from him all these years?" Hunter asks, honored by Dell's generosity.
"Of course I would, son," Dell reassures him, still not used to the boy's humility. Hunter's eyes brim with tears, still not used to being called son.
"You have shown tremendous dedication and heart for the craft. I could think of no one more worthy," Dell tells him, and Hunter's heart swells at the fatherly pride in his voice. "And I know how much it would mean to you to finally be able to bring back your old friend. I believe you two have spent long enough apart."
Hunter instinctively reaches for his chest, galdorstone heart fluttering like the wings of a restless bird, tears threatening to spill over the edge as he realizes he's currently living the moment he's been dreaming of for months.
"Besides," Dell continues, giving Hunter an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Now that this tree has matured, we'll have enough palistrom seeds to grow an entire grove. Perhaps I'll send your girlfriend home with a handful, and she can help you grow them? I hear she's quite adept at plant magic."
Hunter turns instinctively toward the house, expression soft and adoring as he catches sight of Willow through the kitchen window, gathered around the table with Gus, Luz, Amity, Eda, King, Lilith, and Gwendolyn, head thrown back in laughter as Luz and Eda do their best impression of the time they fought off a slither-beast studying glyph magic on the Knee.
"Yeah, she is," he sighs, glancing back up at Dell with a blushing smile on his face. "Thank you, sir."
"Any time, witchlet," Dell replies with a kind smile.
"Now, let's get to work, shall we?" he prompts, and together, they trim one of the larger, thicker branches off the massive, pale blue tree, so that Hunter has plenty of canvas to work with.
"Take as much time as you need," Dell tells him, casting Hunter one last encouraging smile, before clapping him on the shoulder and walking back into the house to join the others, giving him the space and privacy of the whole backyard. Hunter settles in underneath the shade of the palistrom tree, warm afternoon sunlight filtering in shades of gold-kissed pink, purple, and blue through its flowering branches.
As a balmy summer breeze cards gentle fingers through his hair, Hunter closes his eyes and concentrates, calling out for Flapjack in the depths of his mindscape. It's something he's been learning to do with progressing efficiency these past few months, able to have whole conversations with his beloved little bird inside his head at any given moment, the two of them understanding each other better than they ever have before.
After a few moments, he hears the familiar chitters of his old friend, greeting him with an excited, The day has finally come! Hunter is going to carve a new vessel for Flapjack's soul! Hunter and Flapjack, reunited at last!
"Yeah," Hunter exhales on a shaky sob, tasting saltwater as he smiles through his tears. "Time to come home, Flap."
And with that, Hunter sets to work, putting all the skills he's been honing these past several months to good use, patient and exceedingly careful with each delicate flick of the wrist. As he carves, he makes sure to consult Flapjack every step of the way, insisting that it should be up to him exactly what form he'd like to take, down to the very last detail.
Flapjack thinks on it for a long while, before finally deciding that as much as he'd loved being a cardinal, he thinks he might like to be something different this time around, perhaps something bigger, stronger, and more durable than his last. It's so rare that palismen get to choose the shape of their vessel, rarer still for one to be reborn, so he would like to choose wisely.
After several moments of deliberation, Flapjack makes his decision, keen to become one of the mystical beasts Hunter has been so enthralled with since he first discovered them in the human realm. Hunter smiles down at the untapped potential of palistrom wood cradled in the palms of his hands, and sets to work carving a wolf.
He works for what feels like hours, making certain to get the curve of its tail just right (the fluffier, the better, Flapjack insists) the grooves of its fur, the points of its ears, the button-nosed shape of its snout, never once complaining or begrudging Flapjack his preferences.
Finally, once they have both decided they are satisfied with his handiwork, Hunter sets the little wooden wolf down onto a soft patch of grass in front of him, and waits. All at once, a dozen golden glowing balls of light burst from Hunter's chest, floating in the air like fireflies for a few seconds, before fusing into the brand new carving.
What once was wood becomes thick, soft, dark red fur, eyes glowing golden brown in the light of the setting sun. The wolf blinks a few times as he props himself up into a sitting position, adjusting to his new surroundings, to finally being out in the real world again, after so many months spent in the forests of Hunter's mindscape.
"So, how do you like it?" Hunter asks, beaming down at him — an old friend with a brand new face, but still just as much Flapjack as he's ever been.
Flapjack gives an experimental bark, testing out his new voice. Backs up onto his haunches and then leaps into the air, zooming from one end of the garden to the other. Catches sight of Hunter's smiling face, and launches at him at a full sprint, knocking him backward with the sheer force of his tackle hug and lapping at his face like he's determined to lick all of his scars away. Hunter huffs and splutters, laughing as he struggles for breath, t-shirt covered in muddy paw prints as big as his own hands.
"It's good to see you too, buddy," he chuckles, tears streaming down his face as he runs his fingers through thick tufts of deep red fur the color of a cardinal's feathers. "Welcome home."
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