Morning arrived slowly.
The mist in the forest had not yet lifted. Fine droplets clung to the tree trunks, and when the wind moved through the branches, they fell one by one onto the dry leaves below. The impacts made no sound, leaving only dark spots where the water soaked in.
Seven woke early.
More precisely, he had never truly fallen asleep.
His body had entered something close to a low-power state, while his mind remained half awake. Sounds from the outside world were automatically separated into layers of distance, and any change in weight or pressure left faint echoes in his nerves.
Bones was still asleep.
His breathing was deep and heavy.
Rat was curled on the other side of the shack, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, as if afraid someone might drag him away during the night.
Seven sat up.
The dry grass beneath him sank slightly.
Inside the shack, a trace of warmth remained from the fire they had burned the night before, though it was already fading. The air carried the smell of damp soil, old wood, and the faint remains of burnt firewood.
He did not wake them.
Instead, he stepped quietly into the forest.
Morning air was cleaner than the night before.
It carried the faint sweetness of fermenting leaves.
Seven closed his eyes.
The world immediately shifted back into simplified mode.
Tree trunks became vertical outlines.
The ground turned into a continuous plane.
Bushes formed low, blurred structural zones.
The vibration trails left by nocturnal animals had not yet fully dissipated. They lingered like faint echoes in the air.
He moved forward slowly.
His steps automatically avoided damp or slippery ground.
After a few minutes, he caught a brief rustling sound in the grass.
Not wind.
Something small moving.
Seven opened his eyes.
A thin field mouse was digging through the fallen leaves, searching for food.
He bent down and picked up a small stone.
His shoulder moved naturally with the motion.
The stone flew.
The mouse was struck in the head and flipped over instantly.
Seven walked over and picked up the body.
Without pausing, he continued walking.
This time he did not search for another animal.
His body seemed to decide on its own.
Enough.
He returned along the same path.
The bushes in front of the shack were gently pushed aside.
Rat was already awake.
He was crouched beside the drainage channel, poking the collected water with a stick.
When he saw Seven returning, he froze for a moment.
His eyes dropped to the small animal in Seven's hand.
"You know how to hunt?"
Seven nodded.
Rat did not ask anything further.
Bones slowly climbed to his feet. His eyes were still unfocused from sleep.
When he noticed the mouse, he stared at it for a moment.
"…Small."
He said it quietly.
Seven placed the mouse on the wooden board.
Then he pulled out the knife.
The blade slid along the animal's abdomen.
The motion was clean and efficient.
The organs were removed in one smooth movement. When the skin was peeled back, it made a faint tearing sound. There was little blood, and what there was quickly disappeared into the soil.
Bones crouched beside him, watching.
He did not blink.
Rat leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
"You can catch something every day now?"
Seven did not look up.
"Sometimes."
Rat nodded.
He did not ask why.
They lit a small fire.
The same piece of wire from yesterday served as a rack.
There was not much meat.
The mouse was divided into three pieces.
Bones received the smallest.
Rat took the next.
Seven's piece was the largest.
Rat tried to push it back, but Seven pressed his hand down.
"Eat."
Rat looked at him once.
Then he stopped arguing.
The meat was tough.
But it was hot.
They ate slowly.
No one spoke.
This was the beginning of their routine.
—
Over the next few days, life settled into a rhythm.
During the day, Rat and Bones went to the bakery.
They returned with leftover crusts.
Sometimes a lot.
Sometimes only two pieces.
Seven went into the forest.
Not every day produced prey.
Sometimes it was field mice.
Sometimes rabbits.
Sometimes nothing at all.
On the days he returned empty-handed, they survived on bread crusts alone.
Gradually, the shack began to show signs of people living there.
The drainage channel was cleaned.
A fresh layer of grass was spread across the floor.
In one corner, several empty cans had been turned into containers to collect rainwater.
Bones stayed behind to guard the shack.
Most of the time he simply sat near the entrance, staring into space.
Rat began learning how to prepare animals.
His movements were clumsy.
But careful.
Seven never formally taught him.
He simply worked in front of him.
Rat watched.
And quietly copied.
He failed several times.
Then slowly improved.
The three of them rarely spoke.
Only when necessary.
For example—
"Bread was less today."
"There are dogs in the woods."
"Tonight will be cold."
Bones spent most of his time silent.
Occasionally he would suddenly ask something.
"Did your eyes really stop seeing before?"
Seven answered with a quiet,
"Yeah."
Bones nodded.
Then said nothing else.
Seven's physical condition gradually stabilized.
His senses no longer remained in constant overload.
The spatial feedback only appeared when he deliberately closed his eyes. Otherwise, his perception returned to normal automatically.
But the strength remained.
He could feel it when lifting wooden boards—almost no effort was required.
When he jumped over the drainage channel, his body automatically selected the most efficient path.
When he woke during the night, he could sense shifts in wind direction before they fully arrived.
This had become his normal state.
He did not test his limits again.
He simply allowed his body to function.
Rat noticed the changes.
One night, he watched Seven lift a damp wooden board with one hand and lean it against the wall.
"…Did you get stronger or something?"
Seven neither denied it nor confirmed it.
He simply continued what he was doing.
Rat clicked his tongue softly.
"Alright."
He did not ask again.
They continued living on bread crusts and whatever animals Seven could catch.
Unstable.
But enough to survive.
Sometimes Seven thought about the orphanage.
Back then, at least there had been meals at fixed times.
Now there were none.
Here, there was only the present day.
No concept of tomorrow.
One day, half of the bread crusts Rat brought back had grown moldy.
They tore away the rotten parts.
The rest was dried over the fire.
Bones ate carefully.
Rat chewed slowly.
Seven ate in silence.
No complaints.
This was reality.
They simply happened to be living inside it.
Night came.
The three of them lay inside the shack.
Wind moved through the forest.
The wooden boards creaked softly.
Bones had already fallen asleep.
Rat turned over.
In a low voice, he said,
"Seven."
Seven opened his eyes.
"Yeah."
Rat stared at the ceiling.
"Are you going to leave?"
Seven did not answer immediately.
After a few seconds, he said,
"Not for now."
Rat let out a quiet sound.
"Oh."
Then he closed his eyes.
The shack returned to silence.
Seven stared into the dark outlines above him.
His body slowly slowed.
He did not know how long this life could last.
But for now—
There were still bread crusts.
There were still animals in the forest.
And the shack could still block the wind.
For now,
that was enough.