A lean figure darted through the forest, his movements swift and purposeful. His bare feet hardly disturbed the leaves beneath him, and the shadowy hide of a Shadowclaw Panther masked the top half of his face. This was Kaidan Solivare, no longer the desperate boy who fled the ruins of Kaelith. In the six months since that day, the forest had hardened him, transforming the frail orphan into a hunter, a survivor.
"Six months," Kaidan muttered to himself, weaving through the trees. His mismatched eyes—one glinting blue, the other a fiery orange—were focused ahead. "Feels like a lifetime. Funny how I keep surviving... even when the odds say I shouldn't."
The soft glow of dawn filtered through the canopy, dappling his muscular frame as he pushed onward. His short sword hung at his side, its well-worn handle a constant comfort. He slowed as he reached a stream, crouching to drink.
"You've come far," he said to his reflection, his voice steady but tinged with disbelief. He touched his face, tracing the jagged scar that ran across his left cheek. "But it's not enough. It's never enough." He sighed, letting the water ripple around his fingers. "This world doesn't reward halfway victories, Kaidan. Get it together."
He straightened, scanning the forest around him. "And stop talking to yourself like a lunatic," he added dryly, before a wry smile tugged at his lips. "Though, not like there's anyone else around to call me out on it."
Lessons from the Wild
The forest had been an unforgiving teacher. Kaidan learned quickly that mistakes often came with bloodied consequences. Wolves had been his first real challenge after the Shadowclaw Panther. He still remembered the first pack he encountered—how their growls had sent a shiver through him, how he'd barely escaped with his life.
"Wolves are smart," he muttered, brushing his fingers over the hilt of his sword as he walked. "But they're predictable once you understand them." He thought back to his first victory against them, a night filled with frantic slashes and desperate dives. "Outlast the pack, scare the leader. Simple... in theory. In practice, though? Almost lost an arm."
His gaze dropped to a faint scar on his forearm, a reminder of the price he'd paid to survive. "At least I heal fast now," he added with a chuckle. "Silver linings, I guess."
Over time, he noticed the changes in his body. Wounds that should have taken weeks to heal were gone in days. He could run for hours without tiring and see in the dark better than he ever could before. And then there was the Flow—a strange, pulsing energy that he felt within him.
"The Flow..." Kaidan whispered, pausing to look at his hands. "What the hell are you? You're there. I can feel you. But you're just out of reach. Like... like a dream I keep waking up from too soon."
The Shadowclaw Family
Two months into his survival, Kaidan realized he wasn't alone. The area he'd claimed as his territory was near the den of other Shadowclaw Panthers. "Of all the places I could've picked," he grumbled one night, sharpening his blade by the fire. "I had to set up shop next to your family reunion, didn't I?"
He'd spotted them often—glowing purple eyes flickering in the darkness. They never attacked, but their silent observation unnerved him.
"You're waiting for me to slip up," Kaidan muttered, pacing near his makeshift shelter. "You've got the patience. I'll give you that. But if you think I'm an easy meal, think again."
Talking to himself had become a habit—a way to keep his mind sharp in solitude. "What do you even want, huh?" he asked one evening, staring into the dark forest. "Your revenge? Or maybe you're just curious. Either way, stay back. You don't want this fight."
The Flow Revealed
Kaidan often sat on a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley, seeking moments of clarity. One evening, as the setting sun painted the sky in shades of fire, he closed his eyes and focused inward.
"Alright, Flow. Let's try this again," he muttered, his voice calm but determined. His mismatched eyes glowed faintly as he reached for the elusive energy.
For months, it had been nothing more than a whisper beneath his skin. Tonight, though, something shifted. His senses sharpened, and the world around him seemed to slow. He could feel the pulse of life in the trees, the movement of animals in the underbrush, the faint breeze brushing against his skin.
"Whoa," he breathed, his eyes snapping open. A faint aura shimmered around him, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. "This is... this is new." He flexed his fingers, marveling at the sensation. "Okay, Kaidan. Don't get cocky. Baby steps. You've got a long way to go."
The First Signs of Civilization
The next morning, Kaidan packed his belongings—a crude satchel, his sword, and a few scraps of dried meat. "Time to move," he said, adjusting the panther hide covering his face. "I've spent enough time in this forest. If I stay here, I'll rot before I learn anything useful."
As he crested a hill, he froze. Smoke rose in the distance, curling lazily into the sky. His heart skipped a beat. "Smoke," he whispered. "Campfire. People."
Excitement surged through him, but caution tempered it. He rested a hand on his sword's hilt. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Kaidan. Could be friendly. Could be raiders. Could be anything."
He started down the hill, his pace measured. "Still," he murmured, a flicker of hope lighting his mismatched eyes. "After six months... I'd give anything to talk to someone who isn't me."
As he approached the source of the smoke, Kaidan's grip tightened on his sword. The forest had taught him one thing above all: trust was earned, not given. But even with the unknown ahead, for the first time in months, Kaidan felt like he was moving toward something greater.
"And whatever it is," he said softly, a smirk tugging at his lips, "I'll be ready."