The night went very quietly when the crackling was coming from the campfire. Its flames danced into the surrounding trees with a glow of moving shadows. Sometime later, the half-demon boy opened his red eyes and realized that he was fastened in ropes, bucking violently to get loose, but no strength came at all for him; all he had was spent; energy and mana had burned into healing his broken bones and organs from my attack.


    "Don''t even bother trying to get away," Silvia chirped, not looking up as she crunched away on a piece of roasted pork chop. The boy let out a low growl, feral with bared small but razor-sharp teeth. Again, he growled—but this one came from his stomach. I offered him a piece of pork chop and watched his eyes jump between me and the meat. His nostrils expanded, taking in the scent through sniffing.


    Hunger suppressed his pride, and he moved closer, nipping the piece of pork chop I held out to him. Suddenly, he swallowed it whole in one ravenous gulp as if he hadn''t eaten for ages. The boy barked—yes, barked. His crimson eyes glistened with desperate hunger. It was a wildly unnatural sound, yet I made perfect sense of it: he wanted more.


    He stared at my merrymaking chuckle and devoured this other piece, and another, then another, piece by piece with his sharp snapping teeth, as if they''d disappear if he just waited a little. As he ate, I reached for my dagger and cut through the ropes. I worked in silence, watching everything he was doing. The boy suddenly became aware of the loosened bonds when he finished the last pork chop.


    He looked toward me, animal instincts surging up into his eyes. He jolted and was free, dashed off on all fours like some wild animal. He walked out into the darkness of the woods, still chewing on a piece of pork chop. She looked at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. "What the hell was that for? Why did you let him go? I thought you wanted to tame him!" she snapped, frustration building up in her voice.


    I leaned back and grinned. "Don''t worry. He''ll be back." "Back?" Silvia responded, her tone dripping with skepticism. "A wild animal who has just tasted a meal like that won''t be able to keep away," I answered confidently. "He''ll return begging for more."


    Day 50


    The air was crisp and cool in the morning as Silvia and I emerged from the ruins, gear piled and ready for our journey forward. The forest was silent as death, only hearing the crunching steps of our boots on the dirt path. Still, faint footsteps reached our ears, soft, hesitant, but unmistakably following. I threw a glance over my shoulder. And there he was: the half-demon boy.


    His red hair shimmered under the pale dawn light, and his crimson eyes watched us warily from the cover of trees. "Well, what do you know? Just like you said," Silvia said with a sarcastic smile. She laughed but did not believe he had really returned. I reached into my magic pouch and pulled out a piece of dried beef jerky. "Come here, boy! Come on!" I yelled, whistling the way I would to a stray dog.


    The boy hesitated, his eyes darting between the jerky in my hand and my face. He crept toward me slowly, his movement wild and animalistic. His snout twitched with interest as he moved toward the jerky as he reached close enough to it. Then, in one swift motion, he snatched it from my hand and tore into it, chewing like he hadn''t eaten for days.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "You want more?" I asked, holding the jerky up for him. He perked up his ears—and even though part demon didn''t have visible ears to perk up, his body seemed to perk up; he was panting. His pointed teeth appeared in what would have passed for a grin on any normal boy. I gave him another piece, and that was when he decided to follow us.


    As we went to the next town, I could see him following; he''d been keeping his distance but not letting us out of his sight. His behavior was fascinating. He moved forward on all fours like some wild animal, but then he kept looking at the rest of us walking erect. Curiosity made him push himself up to stand up on two legs, doing this over and over, falling into the dirt every time with a frustrated growl.


    But he persisted; on his hundredth attempt was the first time he stood firmly on two wobbly legs and took a grotesque, shambling trot. I couldn''t help laughing. "Look at that. He''s learning," I said. Silvia turned around and replied, "He looks like a complete idiot." "Give him time," I said, smiling at him. Although he had mastered walking like us, the boy did not come too close; there was always that distance between him and us.


    He was suspicious of us, but there was something else there, something almost akin to curiosity or a sense of longing. For now, he followed us in silence, his steps echoing softly behind ours.


    Day 51


    With my non stop offering of food, I became the one he gradually began to open up to. The boy eventually became warm and friendly over time. His behavior reminds me of a stray dog—cautious at first but growing more trusting of others. My suspicion is that he has been raised by wolves or any other wild creature. He resembles an animal unfamiliar with this world of humans.


    Whenever Silvia and I hunted, he stood off on the sidelines, squatting in the tall grasses as he watched us with sharp eyes. His eyes seemed to track every move, but especially the way we wielded the tools—he had never seen such tools in his life. When we made campfires, he would creep forward, his head tilted slightly as he watched the fire spring to life from nothing but wood.


    It was like a caveman meeting fire for the first time: that look of awe and incredulity at miniature marvels we took for granted. That afternoon, we lay in the middle of a vast grassland, resting under the shade of a sprawling tree. The warm breeze was filled with the scent of wildflowers, and the boy ran freely through the tall grass, chasing butterflies and pouncing on grasshoppers with childlike glee.


    And it was then that Silvia asked me, "What shall we call him?" I lazily cracked open my eyes to watch the boy tumble after a butterfly. "I don''t know. You name him," I said, stretching and letting the sun-warmed grass lull me into relaxation. "How about… Ruby?" she proposed, looking at the color of the boy''s hair. "Named after my adoptive father. He had red hair, too."


    That was one of her suggestions that really struck my attention. I opened my eyes fully and turned to face her. "Wow… For the first time, you actually came up with a decent name, considering the disasters you called my ability." She erased her boastful smile, glaring at me with fire blazing in her eyes, crying out, and slapping her hand onto my chest as hard as she could. "So you hated those names!"


    I couldn''t help but laugh at the deep and amusing sound as her punches landed harmlessly against my chest. It was like pillows hitting me; it felt weird. "Oh, come on, it''s only a joke," I teased, grinning at her growing frustration. Silvia huffed and crossed her arms, looking away. Meanwhile, the boy—Ruby, now—paused his playful chase of a grasshopper and looked back at us.


    For a moment, he stood there in the sunlight, his red hair blowing in the breeze, and barked softly before returning to his game. "Well," I said, turning back to Silvia, "Ruby it is, then."