"How did you end up like this? How did you meet my father?" The little lion wagged his tail as he counted the wounds on his father's body, completely disregarding the myriad of wounds on his own body that had yet to fully heal.
Kevin and Oswald locked eyes, simultaneously recalling Bert's words - "We caught a stray male lion in Skull Valley. It probably lost its way and survived off garbage."
Such a description wouldn't sit well with anyone, let alone a seven or eight-year-old child.
They both chose to remain silent on the matter and redirected the conversation, asking, "How did you get separated from your father?"
While with Kevin and the others, this little boy acted as if he wouldn't return home for three days. Now that he had found his father, he grew obedient, even taming his wild, nest-like hair. He grabbed a handful of stick bones and long strips of dried meat and stuffed them into the lion's mouth, one by one.
Only after the lion had swallowed the last bit of meat, shook its ears in exhaustion, and dozed off, did the little boy wipe his hands and approach Kevin's side.
Sitting on the edge of the carriage, swinging his legs, the little boy spoke in a low voice, "Mai—oh, that's my father. He... he doesn't have a good memory, and he can't remember many things. This includes what just happened, who he met, or even the place we call home. But whenever he hears a snort, he runs off, so we ended up getting separated many times. But I always manage to find him and bring him back. I bet by the time he wakes up, he won't remember seeing you."
Chewing on the dried meat twice, Kevin suddenly frowned, raised his hand, and interrupted, "Wait, what did you say your father's name was?"
"Mai," replied the boy. "What's the matter?"
"I've heard that name before," Kevin hesitated.
Though he hadn't interacted much with the giant beast race, he was knowledgeable about them. For instance, while they were a unified group, they preferred living separately and didn't care much about close connections. They only joined forces during times of high alert, preparing for war.
Since they had little contact, they adopted a perfunctory approach to naming, using monosyllabic names that were easy to pronounce, saving effort on introductions. And the name "Mai" happened to be one of the few names Kevin remembered, which left a lasting impression.
This was the name of the former leader of the giant beast clan.
Around ten years ago, Kevin had seen him in human form on the battlefield against the sand ghosts. He was a tough man with golden-brown hair and a scruffy beard. Due to his racial heritage, he stood taller than two meters, resembling a muscular giant, standing firm in front of the giant orc army like a steadfast mountain. He led the brave and ferocious fighters behind him, joining forces with Kevin's Bronze Legion, resulting in the annihilation of the sand ghost army.
The memory of that scene was etched deep in Kevin's mind, making it hard for him to connect that name with the haggard lion dozing in front of him.
Scratching his head, the little boy said, "He went by the same name? That's strange. I don't know anyone among our clan with the same name as my father."
That settled it.
Kevin stared at the male lion, his emotions in turmoil.
Meanwhile, the black-eared wolf was drinking water infused with a sedative, a taste likely far from pleasant. After taking a couple of sips, it couldn't help but shake its head and emit an irritable growl from its throat before letting out another habitual howl.
The dozing lion suddenly raised its head, scars sealing its eyes together unnaturally. Struggling to its feet using its limping leg, it arched its back, attempting to discern the meaning behind the purr. The little lion leaped out of the carriage and hurried over, comforting him, "Daddy, it's me, Ben. There are no sand ghosts here, and nobody's hurt. You only snored, so can you take a rest?"
Momentarily dazed, the male lion withdrew its paw and settled back on the ground as the cub leaned over. It then patted him twice with its paw before collapsing on the ground.
Observing them, Oswald squinted, unsure of what to think. After a while, he raised an eyebrow and whispered, "Yes, he remembers his son."
Blind in both eyes, limping on one leg, with a simple-mindedness and a blank memory, it was a far cry from ten years ago. The only two things it remembered were:
It was a warrior.
And it had a son.