The creature sat silently beside Aiden's lifeless body, unmoving. Hours turned into days, yet it refused to leave his side. Its amber eyes would flicker toward Aiden's still form now and then, as if waiting for something, though it didn't understand what.
Hunger gnawed at its insides, but the creature didn't move far. Instead, it rummaged through Aiden's bag, pulling out what little food remained. Each piece of bread was devoured quickly, the taste faint but enough to keep it going. The creature didn't know why it stayed or why the name "Aiden" kept spilling from its lips, but something about this place—this human—kept it anchored.
Days passed. The bread ran out.
Driven by an insatiable hunger, the creature began wandering farther from Aiden's side, its movements hesitant, as though afraid to lose sight of him. It tried eating leaves from nearby bushes, but the taste was bitter, and the pain that followed was unbearable. The creature curled up near the same tree Aiden had leaned against, clutching its stomach as it whimpered softly.
But hunger is a powerful force, and it wasn't long before it stood again. Its amber eyes scanned the forest, desperate for something—anything—that might sate its growing need.
With slow, aimless steps, the creature ventured deeper into the woods, its voice barely a whisper as it called out the only word it knew:
"Aiden."
The name echoed softly through the trees, carrying with it a faint trace of hope and longing.
The creature's steps were unsteady as it wandered through the dense forest, its body weak from days without proper food. Its voice, soft and hoarse, called out into the void, "Aiden… Aiden…"
Then, in the distance, it saw movement—two figures walking together, their outlines blurred by the thick underbrush. The creature's amber eyes lit up faintly, and it staggered toward them, its voice growing louder.
"Aiden…" it murmured, then repeated more insistently, "Aiden!"
The figures turned to face it. They were human, their expressions cautious as they noticed the creature's disheveled, exhausted appearance. Before the creature could get closer, one of them stepped forward without warning and struck it across the head.
The world spun, and the creature crumpled to the ground.
For a moment, silence enveloped everything, save for the faint rustling of leaves. It lay there, motionless, as if the blow was exactly what it had been waiting for.
The creature stirred, the faint sound of a gentle voice pulling it out of unconsciousness. Slowly, its eyes opened to find itself in a dim, cramped cell. The walls were rough stone, cold and damp, and the only light came from a tiny barred window near the ceiling. The fourth wall was made of thick iron bars, sealing the space shut.
Crouched nearby was a boy, his black hair falling over soft, curious eyes. He was watching the creature with a mixture of concern and hesitation.
"Hey, you're awake," the boy said quietly, a small, relieved smile crossing his face. "I was starting to think you wouldn't open your eyes. Are you okay? Can you talk?"
The creature blinked, disoriented. It opened its mouth, and a single word escaped:
"Aiden…"
The boy tilted his head. "Aiden? Is that your name?"
The creature didn't respond, its amber eyes shifting aimlessly. It murmured again, "Aiden… Aiden…"
The boy, unfazed, offered a warm smile. "Well, that's something at least. My name's Kyle. It's nice to meet you, Aiden."
The creature didn't react. Its gaze drifted toward a small plate on the ground, where a crust of stale bread rested. Its stomach growled audibly as it weakly pointed toward the food, still mumbling, "Aiden… Aiden…"
Kyle's eyes softened further. "Oh, you're hungry," he said gently. "Here, don't worry, it's yours."
He slid the plate closer, and the creature immediately lunged at it, devouring the bread with an almost desperate intensity. It tore at the crust without hesitation, as though it hadn't eaten in days.
Kyle sat back against the wall, watching with quiet sympathy. "You must've had it rough out there," he said softly. "But at least you're safe now, even if this isn't much of a place to be."
The creature didn't seem to hear him, too focused on its meal. As it ate, it continued to mutter between bites, "Aiden… Aiden…"
Kyle let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You really don't understand me, do you?"
He glanced around the cell, his gaze settling on the iron bars. "This place… it's a holding pen," he explained, though he knew the creature couldn't understand. "They keep people here, like livestock, until someone buys them. I've been here for weeks now, just waiting… until you show up."
When the creature finished the bread, it sat back, staring at the empty plate for a moment. Then it curled up in the corner of the cell, its amber eyes distant, its lips still moving as it whispered that single word, over and over:
"Aiden."
Kyle's voice softened to a near-whisper. "Well, Aiden," he said with a faint smile, "I guess we're in this together now."
He leaned back, letting the silence settle between them. The only sound in the cell was the creature's quiet murmuring, the name repeating endlessly in the dim, cold air:
"Aiden… Aiden…"