The beast continued breathing.
Rise.
Fall.
Rise.
Fall.
The rhythm was uneven.
Sometimes the breaths came quickly.
Sometimes they paused.
Sometimes the creature's body twitched violently before becoming still once more.
Yet it moved.
And because it moved, the infant remained.
Watching.
Learning.
Observing.
The gray sky drifted overhead.
Cold winds swept across the battlefield.
The endless sea of still shapes remained unchanged.
Only the beast moved.
Only the beast breathed.
Only the beast created sound.
The sound fascinated him.
Unlike the giant creature.
Unlike himself.
This beast made noises often.
Small noises.
Weak noises.
Painful noises.
The sounds escaped whenever it moved.
Whenever it struggled.
Whenever it attempted to pull itself free from the twisted metal crushing half its body.
The infant watched.
The beast pushed.
The metal did not move.
The beast cried out.
The sound echoed briefly before disappearing into the battlefield.
Then silence returned.
Again.
The beast pushed.
Again the metal remained.
Again the sound came.
Pattern.
Action.
Sound.
The infant observed for a long time.
The pattern repeated.
Push.
Sound.
Stop.
Push.
Sound.
Stop.
The beast eventually noticed him.
Its eyes opened slowly.
Clouded with pain.
Exhaustion.
Weakness.
Yet alive.
The infant stared.
The beast stared back.
For several moments neither moved.
Neither understood the other.
Then the beast made another sound.
Louder this time.
Its head lifted slightly.
Its mouth opened.
A strained cry escaped.
The infant froze.
The sound felt different.
Sharper.
More urgent.
The largest sound the beast had made so far.
His body reacted instinctively.
Not fear.
Not concern.
Awareness.
The sound demanded attention.
The beast continued watching him.
Its breathing accelerated.
The rhythm changed.
Rise.
Fall.
Rise.
Fall.
Faster.
The infant tilted his head.
Another pattern.
The beast behaved differently when looking at him.
Movement.
Sound.
Faster breathing.
Cause.
Effect.
Though he understood neither.
The beast attempted to move again.
Its crushed body trembled violently.
The twisted metal remained unmoved.
The beast cried out.
Longer this time.
Pain filled the sound.
Though the infant did not know what pain was beyond his own experiences.
The cry echoed across the battlefield.
Then faded.
The infant crawled closer.
The beast immediately reacted.
Its eyes widened.
Its breathing accelerated further.
The sounds returned.
Repeated.
Urgent.
The infant stopped.
The sounds continued.
He moved forward again.
The sounds became louder.
He stopped.
The sounds weakened.
Pattern.
The infant stared.
A new discovery.
His movement changed the beast.
The realization was not conscious.
Not intellectual.
But the pattern existed.
And once observed, it could not be unseen.
Forward.
Sound.
Stop.
Less sound.
Forward.
More sound.
The infant repeated the process.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each time the beast responded.
Every movement created change.
The battlefield had always seemed distant.
Unreachable.
Uncaring.
Yet now something within it reacted to him.
For the first time in his life, his actions altered another living thing.
The discovery held his attention completely.
Hours passed.
The infant remained nearby.
Experimenting.
Observing.
Learning.
The beast grew weaker.
Its cries became softer.
Its breathing slower.
Its movements smaller.
The infant noticed.
The pattern was changing.
Eventually, the beast no longer attempted to free itself.
It simply lay there.
Breathing.
Watching.
Waiting.
The ache inside the infant intensified.
Hunger.
Persistent.
Growing.
The scent of blood lingered around the beast.
Fresh.
Warmer than the old scents covering the battlefield.
His body reacted immediately.
Instinct awakened.
The same instinct that had guided him toward the giant creature's wounds.
The same instinct that had taught him survival.
The infant moved closer.
The beast noticed.
Its eyes opened wider.
Its breathing accelerated once more.
Sound returned.
Weak.
Desperate.
The infant continued forward.
The beast attempted to pull away.
Its crushed body prevented movement.
The effort produced another cry.
The infant reached the wound.
Fresh blood seeped from torn flesh where metal pierced deep into the creature's side.
Dark.
Warm.
Moving.
The scent overwhelmed everything else.
His small fingers touched the wound.
Warm liquid coated his skin.
The ache inside him immediately sharpened.
Demanding.
The beast cried out.
Violently this time.
Its entire body convulsed.
The infant froze.
Watching.
His fingers remained covered in blood.
The scent remained.
The hunger remained.
Slowly, instinct guided his hand toward his mouth.
The taste returned.
Warm.
Metallic.
Life.
Relief spread through his body.
Small.
Temporary.
Yet undeniable.
The beast cried again.
Weaker now.
Much weaker.
The infant stared.
Then drank again.
The cries continued.
Each one softer than the last.
The infant did not understand what he was doing.
He understood only patterns.
Blood eased hunger.
Movement created responses.
The beast continued responding.
As darkness approached, the cries became whispers.
The movements became twitches.
The breathing became shallow.
The infant remained beside it.
Feeding occasionally.
Watching constantly.
The beast's eyes never left him.
Not once.
And for reasons neither of them could understand, the battlefield seemed quieter that night.
As though something inevitable had already begun.
Wrapped in blood-stained silk, sitting beside a creature trapped between life and death, Reige unknowingly crossed another invisible threshold.
Not because he killed.
Not because he hunted.
Not because he chose.
But because, for the first time in his existence...
another living thing suffered directly because of him.
And the battlefield had just taught him that actions carry consequences even when the one acting cannot yet understand them.