The eye remained open.
Watching.
The infant did not understand eyes.
He did not understand sight.
He did not understand attention.
Yet something felt different.
The world had always been one-sided.
He looked.
Things remained still.
Things existed.
Nothing responded.
Nothing changed.
Nothing acknowledged him.
Yet now
Something looked back.
The massive golden eye stared at him through a haze of pain and exhaustion.
Its surface reflected the gray sky above.
Reflected the battlefield.
Reflected him.
Though he did not understand any of those things.
He only understood that the eye moved.
When he shifted slightly, it shifted.
When he leaned closer, it followed.
Movement answering movement.
A new pattern.
The infant stared.
The creature stared.
The battlefield remained silent.
Minutes passed.
Neither looked away.
The creature blinked.
The sudden motion caused the infant to jerk backward.
His small body tensed.
The movement had been unexpected.
The eyelid slowly lowered.
Then lifted once more.
The golden eye returned.
Watching.
The infant stared.
A few moments later, he blinked as well.
Not intentionally.
Instinctively.
His own eyelids closed.
Then opened.
The creature remained.
The eye remained.
Watching.
The warmth beneath the creature's fur continued to radiate outward.
The infant pressed closer.
The cold lessened.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Enough that his body relaxed.
Enough that he stopped shivering.
The creature's breathing rumbled softly beneath him.
Rise.
Fall.
Rise.
Fall.
The rhythm reminded him of something.
Something distant.
Something older than memory.
A sensation buried deep within instinct.
The infant could not understand why.
Only that the sound felt familiar.
Safe.
Not safe because he understood danger.
Safe because his body relaxed whenever it heard the rhythm.
Hours passed.
Perhaps longer.
The infant remained beside the creature.
The creature remained beside the infant.
The eye occasionally closed.
Then opened again.
Each time, the infant waited.
Watching.
The pattern repeated.
Close.
Open.
Close.
Open.
Always returning.
Always moving.
Unlike the countless shapes scattered across the battlefield.
Then the creature made a sound.
A low rumble escaped its throat.
Weak.
Painful.
The infant froze.
His entire body became still.
The sound vibrated through the fur beneath him.
Through the ground itself.
The largest sound he had ever heard.
The creature's eye narrowed slightly.
Another rumble emerged.
Then silence.
The infant stared.
A new pattern.
Some movements produced sounds.
The hunger returned.
It never truly left.
The ache twisted deep inside him.
Stronger than before.
The warmth helped.
The cold lessened.
But the emptiness remained.
The hollow pain spread through his tiny body.
Demanding.
Persistent.
The infant whimpered weakly.
The sound escaped without thought.
The creature's eye shifted toward him.
Watching.
The infant curled against the creature's side.
The ache worsened.
His small fingers dug into the fur.
The creature did not move away.
Did not react.
Only continued breathing.
Rise.
Fall.
Rise.
Fall.
Then something warm touched his hand.
Wet.
The infant paused.
His fingers flexed instinctively.
The sensation spread across his skin.
He looked down.
A dark liquid coated his fingertips.
One of the creature's wounds had opened slightly.
Fresh blood slowly seeped from the torn flesh.
The infant stared.
The liquid moved.
Slowly.
Running along the creature's side.
Dripping toward the earth.
A new thing.
Another pattern.
Another discovery.
The scent reached him.
Immediately, something deep inside him reacted.
Not thought.
Not understanding.
Instinct.
Ancient.
Absolute.
His body knew something his mind did not.
The ache inside him seemed to awaken.
The emptiness sharpened.
Demanding.
Calling.
The infant lifted his hand.
The dark liquid remained on his fingers.
Wet.
Warm.
Moving.
Slowly, instinct guided him.
His hand moved toward his mouth.
His tongue touched the blood.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then
Everything changed.
Warmth.
Salt.
Metal.
Life.
The hollow ache inside him eased.
Not completely.
Not even close.
But enough.
Enough for instinct to recognize.
Enough for instinct to remember.
The infant froze.
The sensation lingered.
His body wanted more.
Needed more.
His gaze returned to the wound.
The dark liquid continued to emerge.
Slowly.
Steadily.
The scent filled the air.
The ache returned immediately.
Stronger.
Hungrier.
The connection formed.
Not through reason.
Not through thought.
Pattern.
Blood.
Relief.
Blood.
Relief.
A lesson carved directly into instinct.
The creature watched.
Its golden eye remained open.
Clouded.
Exhausted.
Yet aware.
It watched as the infant reached forward.
Watched as tiny fingers touched the wound once more.
Watched as the dark liquid stained the already blood-soaked white silk.
Watched as the child fed.
The creature did not stop him.
Perhaps it could not.
Perhaps it did not care.
Perhaps it understood something neither the reader nor Reige yet could.
The infant drank.
Small amounts.
Slowly.
Enough.
Just enough.
The agony inside him lessened.
Strength returned to his tiny limbs.
The world no longer felt quite so distant.
Quite so heavy.
The battlefield sharpened around him once more.
For the first time since birth
The emptiness was not winning.
Night eventually returned.
Darkness swallowed the battlefield.
The gray sky vanished behind black clouds.
The wind whispered across endless fields of death.
The creature's breathing had become slower.
Weaker.
Rise.
Fall.
Pause.
Rise.
Fall.
Longer pause.
The infant noticed.
Not consciously.
Pattern.
The rhythm had changed.
Wrapped in blood-stained silk, pressed against warm fur, his tiny body finally relaxed.
The golden eye remained open.
Watching him.
Watching the impossible child sleeping beside it.
A newborn surrounded by death.
A dying beast surrounded by silence.
Neither belonged.
Yet for one night, beneath a sky that had forgotten both of them
Neither was alone.