They stood still for several seconds after the rabbit disappeared.
The forest slowly returned to its quiet, steady breathing, as if nothing at all had happened. Leaves rustled softly in the wind. Somewhere far away, a bird called.
Filip was the first to speak.
"We can't ignore that," he said quietly.
Rio swallowed.
"It's food," Filip continued. "We have to hunt it."
Rio looked at him with surprised eyes—but he understood what Filip meant. They couldn't afford to let the chance slip away. Not anymore.
They would try to take the life of the small creature.
"For survival," Rio said softly, and nodded.
Filip hesitated for a moment. He had expected resistance—expected Rio to argue, to hesitate. Instead, he saw resolve. It worried him more than fear would have.
They moved forward together, following the path the rabbit had taken.
Moving quietly wasn't easy.
Their tails brushed against bushes, caught in low branches, tugged painfully as twigs tangled in their fur. Their ears scraped against leaves and branches, itching and stinging where small pieces of bark and thorns clung stubbornly to them. It was uncomfortable—almost painful—but they pushed on, focused, careful.
After a while, they heard it again.
Soft movement. A faint rustle.
It wasn't far now.
They crept around a thick bush, and beyond it lay a small clearing. There, in the open, stood the rabbit.
It was small. White. Still.
It stood just outside a narrow hole in the ground.
Rio understood immediately.
That was its home.
His heart pounded—but he didn't hesitate.
He slowly reached for his bow.
An arrow slid onto the string.
He lowered himself into a crouch, right knee against the ground, left foot planted firmly. His tail hung low behind him, just as he had seen people do in movies—steady, controlled.
Filip watched from behind.
For a brief moment, Rio actually looked… professional. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.
But can he hit it? Filip wondered.
Filip tightened his grip on his sword, ready to rush forward if Rio missed. Ready to finish it quickly.
Everything seemed planned.
Rio took a deep breath and pulled back the string.
Immediately, he felt it.
The bow was stiff. Far stiffer than he expected.
His arms trembled as he forced the string back. His muscles burned. He barely managed to hold it.
He tried to aim—but his hand started to shake.
He didn't know how to shoot a bow. He had never used one before. The closest thing had been a slingshot when he was a child—but this was different. Completely different.
The rabbit sat still.
Watching.
Then something went wrong.
Rio's tail shifted against the ground.
Just a small movement.
But it was enough.
The rabbit's ears snapped upright. Its head turned directly toward him.
Now.
Fear surged through Rio. If he waited any longer, it would vanish into the hole.
He released the string.
The arrow flew with a sharp whoosh.
Rio held his breath—it looked like it was on the right path.
Filip was already running the moment the arrow left the bow.
The rabbit reacted—but the arrow was faster.
It missed.
The arrow struck a stone with a sharp crack and snapped cleanly in half.
At the same moment, Filip sprinted forward—but his tail caught on a low branch. He stumbled hard, losing precious seconds.
And the rabbit vanished into its hole.
Gone.
Silence fell.
Rio stopped and stared at the broken arrow on the ground.
His chest tightened.
"Damn it…" he whispered.
Anger flooded him—at the bow, at his body, at himself.
"I should've waited. I should've—"
Filip stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You did what you could," he said quietly. "You didn't freeze. That matters."
Rio shook his head.
"I ruined it."
Filip squeezed his shoulder gently.
"No. You tried. And that's more than nothing."
They waited.
Minutes passed.
The rabbit didn't come back out.
They didn't dare stay in the forest longer than necessary.
Without a word, they turned back toward the stream.
They followed the water upstream, careful with every step, until the sound grew stronger and clearer. Eventually, they found where it emerged—clean, flowing directly from the earth and stone.
Relief washed over them.
They filled both water bottles in silence, watching the clear water rise.
Filip knelt and washed his hands carefully, the water running red at first before clearing. Rio rinsed his scraped arms and legs, wincing as dirt washed away.
"We need to train," Rio said quietly.
Filip nodded.
"We will."
On the walk back to the pyramid, neither of them spoke much.
Rio thought about the arrow breaking. About his shaking hands. About how close they had been.
Filip thought about time. About food. About how long luck could carry them.
The pyramid rose ahead of them—silent, ancient, waiting.
They had water now at least