The little Hawk Wyvern, firmly clamped in the Clutch Claws built into the vambraces of Morgan's Seltas Queen Gunner Set, eventually stopped struggling and adopted an innocent, pitiful look. Morgan, meanwhile, remained expressionless, his gaze so cold that he seemed ready to tear the little creature apart at any moment. Altaïr suddenly found the contrast rather amusing. "Just roast him yourself. Let us have a taste when it's done."
Morgan's expression stiffened.
The claw blades on his vambraces were razor-sharp. A little more pressure would easily slit the Hawk Wyvern's throat or even gut him. Even if he did not want to resort to something as bloody as tearing him apart by hand, he was a Hunter and had plenty of ways to end the little creature's life quickly and cleanly.
If this had been the previous night, when he first caught him, he would not have hesitated for a moment. He was only a Small Monster, no different in essence from the Ludroth and Bullfango found throughout the Mangrove Forest.
But now, for some reason, the thought of crushing him to death filled Morgan with an inexplicable aversion, a nagging sense that it would be wrong.
Was it simply because the little beast kept coming back to him, stealing his food as though certain he would let him go? Was Morgan losing his mind?
Morgan's expression shifted. He wanted to kill the little beast just to prove that his mind was perfectly sound and that he would not go soft for some inexplicable reason. Yet when the moment came, he could not bring himself to do it.
As Morgan ground his teeth, the claw blades around the little Hawk Wyvern loosened, tightened, then loosened again. Altaïr could not help laughing. "All right, all right. Don't force yourself. A juvenile's instincts are sharp. Maybe he keeps approaching you because he sensed that you posed the least danger to him."
"That makes no sense..." Morgan gritted his teeth, and his grip on the little Hawk Wyvern unconsciously loosened a little more.
Isis smiled with narrowed eyes as she teased him. "So you do have a soft spot after all."
After several more seconds of silence, Morgan heaved a sigh and opened his hands, allowing the little creature to flutter to the ground. The sharp claw blades had squeezed him painfully and left several bloody scratches across his back and wings during the struggle. By all logic, he should have fled the instant he regained his freedom. Instead, the little Hawk Wyvern rolled across the ground, tilted his head to glance at the scowling Morgan, then ran back to Morgan's plate and resumed eating the Well-done Steak he had left unfinished.
"He's latched onto you, meow," Sajji declared matter-of-factly.
Morgan ignored Sajji and turned to Clawdia. "You said you saw foreign Hunters in Mezeporta taming these creatures. Can you tell me anything more?"
Clawdia, nestled beside Isis near the campfire, shifted into a more comfortable position. "Not much... Actually, there may be something, meow. That foreign Hunter was feeding his Halk a Yian Kut-Ku Flame Sac, meow. He said the creature was highly adaptable and could eat almost anything, meow.
"Thinking back on it now, even with such a varied diet, no one would feed it valuable Monster materials for no reason, meow. There must have been some special purpose, meow.
"That's all I know, meow. We can ask Ms. Meow-It-All after we return. She's well traveled and should know more about these creatures, meow."
"Do you know what a Halk can help with?"
"No idea, meow. We never went on a Hunt with that Hunter, meow."
"All right, I understand. Thank you." Morgan politely thanked her and returned to his seat.
The little Hawk Wyvern finished the plate of Well-done Steak, burped, and turned as if to slip away, only for Morgan to catch his tail and pull him back.
He gripped the little Hawk Wyvern by the scruff of his neck and forced him to meet his gaze. "I'll say this only once, so listen carefully.
"I can offer you shelter, food, and a safe place to grow, but nothing in this world is free. In return, you must help me in whatever ways you can."
Watching Morgan address the little Hawk Wyvern with such stern seriousness, Altaïr and the others could barely contain their laughter.
Hawk Wyverns were not Lynians like Felynes or Gajalaka. Judging by his behavior, the creature seemed fairly intelligent, perhaps about as intelligent as a Palamute.
But even a Palamute needed extensive training before it could understand a Hunter's words and commands.
This little creature had probably encountered humans for the first time only the day before. There was no way he could understand human speech.
Morgan was no fool, and he had to know that. Yet he persisted in addressing the little Hawk Wyvern all the same.
"I'm giving you a choice. If you're willing to become my hunting partner, stay. I'll raise you, train you, and make you far stronger than the rest of your kind.
"If you're only after a free meal, leave. But this is your last chance. If you sneak around us again, I'll treat you as a hostile wild Monster and show no mercy."
Held by the scruff of his neck, the little Hawk Wyvern stopped struggling.
Morgan released him and set him on the ground. As though he truly understood and needed time to decide, he paced in a circle, gazed out at the vast forest and the night sky, then looked back at the Hunter and the campfire before him.
After a brief hesitation, he cautiously approached Morgan, folded his wings, and crouched down. He even stretched out his neck and nuzzled Morgan's hand.
As he felt the creature's strange hide, with a texture somewhere between scales and feathers, a faint smile broke through Morgan's cold, serious expression.
So this is what they call forming a bond? It feels pretty good.
Altaïr and Isis, who had found the exchange amusing at first, looked at each other. Sajji craned his neck, his whiskers trembling. "He actually understood, meow?!"
"There's no way he understood the words themselves, meow." Clawdia shook her head. "He understood the feeling behind them, meow.
"He can't grasp anything that complicated, but he chose to stay beside someone he felt he could trust, meow."
Snapping back to her senses, Isis set aside the Well-done Steak in her hand, her face brimming with excitement. "Let's give him a name. We can't keep calling him the little Hawk Wyvern forever.
"Come to think of it, Hawk Wyvern is just a name I made up on the spot. We don't even know its actual scientific name."
Altaïr handed Morgan a fresh plate of Well-done Steak, but before Morgan could take a bite, the little creature stood up like a puppy, planted one wing talon on his arm, craned its neck toward the plate, and chirped eagerly for another share.
Morgan sighed, pinched off a piece of Well-done Steak, blew on it to cool it, and stuffed it into the creature's mouth. "You're so annoying that maybe I should just call you Mosquito."
Isis was speechless.
Even I wouldn't come up with a name that unsettling.
Fortunately, Morgan was only joking. "You fly quickly, don't you? Swiftwing? Lightpiercer? Or perhaps I could borrow from the scenery around us. There's a campfire in front and lush woods behind... Blazing Red? Leaf Green?
"A more human-sounding name might work too. Zoe? El? No... If I'm going to call you during Hunts and battles, something catchier might be better. Like Nymera's Palamute, 'Hibiki,' a single short word. Based on your coloring... Teal? Blue?"
Morgan ran through one name after another but was not satisfied with any of them.
Altaïr shot Isis a pointed look, silently urging her to learn from Morgan's example. Whether or not the names were any good, at least Morgan was thinking creatively instead of getting stuck on nonsense like "Gymnastic" one moment and "Dash Sweep" the next. While Morgan continued considering names, the little Hawk Wyvern suddenly sprang up, knocked the plate from his hand, and sent the Well-done Steak scattering across the ground.
He let out a joyful "Squeak!" and buried his head in the fallen meat, devouring it with gusto.
A vein bulged on Morgan's forehead. "I really am calling you Mosquito after all."
Altaïr and the others were momentarily speechless.
Watching the little Hawk Wyvern hop around and pick pieces of meat off the ground, Morgan took a deep breath.
The little beast probably would not care, but the thought of repeatedly calling him "Mosquito" was frankly off-putting.
"Forget it. I'll just call you 'Hakucho' instead."
"Hakucho?"
Altaïr looked puzzled. The name sounded pleasant and rolled easily off the tongue, but he could not guess the reason behind it. "Does it mean something?"
"It's an elegant term for 'mosquito' in Eastern countries."
"..."
(Translated by yourtl.app)