The pain had not left him.
It lingered in quiet, persistent ways—an ache beneath the ribs when he breathed too deeply, a stiffness in his shoulders that flared whenever he reached too far, bruises that bloomed dark and stubborn along his legs. The elders had warned him to rest. Eytukan had ordered him to.
Nussudle waited three days.
On the fourth morning, he took his bow.
The forest greeted him with cautious familiarity as he moved away from the Home Tree, each step measured, each breath controlled. He did not run. He did not climb unnecessarily. Pride had nearly killed him once already; he would not let it do so again.
Still, the need to hunt burned in him.
Not hunger—not truly. The People were fed. This was something else. A pull in his chest, a quiet insistence that would not fade. The system hovered at the edge of his awareness, silent but present, as if watching to see what choice he would make.
Nussudle followed signs rather than paths.
Broken foliage. Shallow hoof marks pressed into damp soil. The faint, musky scent of a grazing animal carried on the breeze. Hexapede.
He slowed further.
Hexapedes were not dangerous in the way predators were, but they were alert, fast, and frustratingly resilient. Six legs made for quick turns and sudden bursts of speed, and their hides could turn a poorly placed arrow aside. Even experienced hunters preferred to take them in groups.
Nussudle was alone.
He found it grazing in a shallow glade, its striped hide shifting gently as it moved between broad-leafed plants. The creature was beautiful in a quiet, unassuming way—ears flicking, eyes dark and watchful, body relaxed but ready.
Nussudle raised his bow.
His ribs protested as he drew the string back. He ignored them, grounding himself the way he had been taught. Breathe. Feel the forest. Respect the life you are about to take.
The system flickered.
Target Identified: HexapedeVital Zones: Highlighted
He did not look directly at the panel. He did not need to. His instincts aligned with what it offered, not replacing his training, but sharpening it.
He loosed the arrow.
It struck true—too true.
The hexapede screamed, a sharp, panicked sound that sliced through the glade as it bolted. The arrow had pierced deep into its chest, puncturing a lung. Blood darkened its hide as it staggered, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Nussudle's heart lurched.
The animal did not fall.
It ran—stumbling, desperate, terrified—before collapsing near the edge of the clearing, sides heaving violently. Its eyes rolled, legs twitching uselessly as it struggled for air that would not come.
Nussudle approached slowly, knife already in hand.
This was the part no one spoke of lightly.
He knelt beside the hexapede, placing a hand against its neck, feeling the frantic pulse beneath its skin. He leaned close, forehead touching its hide, and whispered the words he had been taught since childhood—thanks, apology, respect.
Then he drew the blade across its throat in one clean, merciful motion.
The struggle ended.
The forest exhaled.
As the life left the hexapede's body, the system surged fully into view.
Kill Confirmed: HexapedeExperience Gained
Nussudle froze.
A new panel unfolded, larger than any he had seen before.
Status Overview:Strength: 12Weight: 10Agility: 14Intelligence: 13Instinct: 15Connections: 16
Point Available: 2
He stared at the numbers, pulse thudding in his ears.
Connections.
That one pulsed faintly, warmer than the rest.
He did not know what the numbers meant—not fully—but he understood enough to feel the shift. Something had changed. Not just in the system.
In him.
The adrenaline faded quickly, leaving exhaustion in its wake. His limbs felt heavy, his vision dulled at the edges, and the ache in his body flared in protest. Every sensible part of him urged rest. Sleep. Call for help.
Instead, he stripped broad leaves from a nearby plant and fashioned a crude sling. With slow, careful effort, he dragged the hexapede onto it, muscles trembling as he worked. Pain flared sharp and bright along his ribs, but he clenched his teeth and continued.
He would not leave the kill.
The journey back to the Home Tree took far longer than it should have. Nussudle stopped often, breath shallow, sweat cooling unpleasantly against his skin. More than once, he considered abandoning the carcass—but each time, the thought settled like a stone in his gut.
When the Home Tree finally came into view, the sun was already beginning its slow descent.
"Nussudle!"
Eytukan's voice cracked like thunder.
Nussudle looked up to see his brother striding toward him, fury written plainly across his face. "What do you think you're doing?" Eytukan demanded. "You can barely stand. The elders said—"
He stopped.
His gaze dropped to the massive shape dragged behind Nussudle, to the bloodied leaves, the unmistakable striped hide.
Silence fell.
"You…" Eytukan said slowly. "You hunted this?"
Nussudle nodded, too tired to speak.
Eytukan stared for a long moment, disbelief warring with anger. Hexapedes were not impossible—but they were not easy. Not alone. Not for someone still healing.
Finally, Eytukan swore under his breath and moved forward, taking the weight of the carcass without comment. "You are reckless," he muttered. "And stubborn. And you are going to be the death of me."
But there was something else in his voice now.
Pride.
Inside the Home Tree, the elders gathered quickly. Nussudle was made to sit, then lie down, while hands prodded and clicked disapprovingly at the strain he had put himself under. Salves were reapplied. Fresh bandages tightened.
Then came the lesson.
Under the watchful eyes of the hunters, Nussudle learned to skin the hexapede properly—how to cut without wasting, how to separate muscle from bone, how to honour the animal by using as much of it as possible. His hands shook with fatigue, but he did not falter.
Later, as the meat roasted over open flame, rich and fragrant, Nussudle sat beside the fire, warmth seeping into his bones.
The system dimmed, content.
He was exhausted—aching, bruised, barely upright.
But he had hunted.He had shown mercy.And the forest had answered.