The sun's early rays filtered through the dense canopy of the forest, casting a soft, golden glow on the landscape. Close to a rushing river, a deer with a sleek, brown coat and delicate white spots bent down to drink. The creature’s large, dark eyes reflected the serene surroundings, while nearby, vibrant wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze, attracting butterflies that danced lightly around them. One such butterfly, its wings a vivid blue, fluttered near the deer’s nose, only to be startled away by a sudden noise.

The deer paused, lifting its head to scan the area, its ears twitching as it listened intently. Hearing nothing more, it returned to the water. But just as it lowered its head, an arrow whistled through the air and struck the deer in the neck. The creature collapsed to the ground, its life extinguished in an instant. The butterfly took flight in alarm, vanishing into the trees.

From the underbrush emerged a man, not particularly tall, with a tanned complexion and slightly unkempt brown hair. His eyes, a curious shade of reddish-brown, scanned the area as he stepped closer to his fallen prey. He wore a simple leather tunic over a plain shirt, sturdy trousers, and boots that had seen better days. As he knelt beside the deer, he pulled the arrow from its neck with a smirk. “Got a good one,” he muttered to himself, tossing the arrow into the river.

Hoisting the deer onto his shoulder, he adjusted its weight before something unusual caught his eye—bodies, lifeless and battered, drifting down the river. “What the hell…” he whispered, his eyes narrowing.

Before he could react further, Raphael burst from the water, gasping for air as he scrambled onto the riverbank. The boy’s exhaustion took over as he collapsed, barely conscious. The man, startled by the sudden appearance, dropped the deer and rushed to Raphael’s side. “Hey, kid!” he called out, kneeling beside the young boy. Noticing the fox-like features and the boy’s small frame, he checked for a pulse, relief washing over him when he felt the faint beat of Raphael’s heart.

“Well, I can’t just leave you here,” the man murmured, scratching his head in thought. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted Raphael, carrying him along with the deer as he headed back through the forest.

Within a clearing in the forest stood a settlement, surrounded by a sharp wooden fence. Inside, a cluster of dilapidated cottages leaned haphazardly against one another, their thatched roofs worn and walls patched with mismatched planks. The men in the camp went about their business, though not all were occupied with productive work.

In one corner, two men engaged in a brutal fistfight, their fists flying as they exchanged punches. One of the men, a burly fellow with a thick beard and a missing front tooth, landed a heavy blow to his opponent’s jaw. His rival, a slightly leaner man with a bald head and a crooked nose, retaliated with a swift jab to the stomach. Around them, other men cheered and jeered, their shouts echoing through the camp.

“Give ’em a good one in the chin, yes, like that!” one man yelled, his voice hoarse with excitement.

Another, a stocky figure with a scar running down his cheek, hollered, “Hey! What are you doing? I bet my money on you, lad! If you lose, I’ll beat you myself!”

At the camp’s entrance, the man carrying Raphael on his back and the deer on his shoulder emerged from the dense trees. A young woman hurried towards him, her long auburn hair swaying as she moved. She wore a simple dress, common among the folk of the camp, though her ample figure drew a few lingering glances from the men nearby. “Boss!” she called out with a bright smile, closing the distance between them. “I didn’t see you in bed this morning.”

The man looked at her, then shifted slightly to reveal Raphael draped over his shoulder. “Had to get us some breakfast,” he replied, dropping the deer to the ground. “And I found this kid. He’s got fox features—couldn’t just leave him out there.”

The woman, whom he called Elara, gently took the unconscious boy from him, cradling him in her arms. “Another mouth to feed,” she sighed, though her expression softened as she looked at Raphael.

The boss scratched his head, glancing towards the group of men who were still engrossed in their brawl and the bets that surrounded it. “Why can’t these men be decent and do some actual work around here?” he muttered.

Elara chuckled as she began walking away with Raphael. “That’s just how you men do things,” she said over her shoulder.

The boss grumbled to himself, watching her leave before turning his attention back to the men. “I’m going to give those idiots a hell of a beating…” he muttered under his breath.

Later, the two men who had been fighting found themselves kneeling before the boss, bruised and battered, while the others stood in uneasy silence. The boss, his face set in a scowl, looked them over with a critical eye.

A skinny man with a nervous twitch, one of those who had been betting, spoke up, trying to ease the tension. “Boss, we’re sorry for causing a commotion…”

The group of men echoed the apology in unison, each one hoping to avoid the boss’s wrath.

The boss sighed heavily. “What even caused the fight, anyway?” he demanded.

The men exchanged nervous glances but remained silent, unsure of how to explain.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Ugh,” the boss groaned, turning to the skinny man. “You don’t even know why these two were fighting?”

“No, boss…” the man admitted, lowering his head.

The boss’s anger flared, and he pointed at the two men who had been fighting. “You two! What happened?”

The burly man with the missing tooth spoke first, his voice thick with indignation. “This toothless Gregory just came out of nowhere and shoved me without apologizing!”

The bald man, Gregory, shot back, “Who are you calling toothless?”

The boss’s expression darkened as he realized the petty nature of their quarrel. Flames of anger seemed to ignite in his eyes, and the men instinctively flinched.

“I was out busting my ass to get us a meal, and you’re here fighting and betting instead of doing some real work!” he roared, stepping closer to the two men.

The two fighters, now holding onto each other out of fear, watched in horror as the boss cracked his knuckles, ready to teach them a lesson.

As the boss began pummeling the men, their cries for mercy filled the air. The others watched, one of them whispering to his companion, “Phew, thank the gods I’m not in their shoes…”

The companion winced as the boss landed a particularly brutal punch. “I want my mummy…” he muttered as the boss delivered a final, painful blow to the unfortunate Gregory’s groin, eliciting a collective wince from the onlookers.

“That’s gonna hurt,” the companion sighed heavily, shaking his head.

Inside one of the cottages, the interior was modest and worn, yet serviceable. The wooden walls were aged, with small cracks that let in slivers of daylight. The furniture was sparse—a rickety table, a few old chairs, and a small, rough-hewn cabinet. The floor was mostly bare, save for a few threadbare rugs that added a touch of warmth to the otherwise cold space. The cottage was lived-in, with signs of use everywhere: a broom leaned against the wall, a few pots and pans hung near the small hearth, and a mat on the floor where a young boy lay.

Elara was busy tidying up the space, sweeping dust into a neat pile. Her movements were methodical, and her expression was one of calm as she maintained the humble abode. Raphael lay on the mat, his small form now dressed in clean, simple clothes—a loose tunic and trousers that were a little too big for him, but much more comfortable than the tattered rags he had been wearing before. The mat beneath him was thin but provided a semblance of comfort on the hard floor.

Time passed slowly until Raphael suddenly gasped loudly, jerking awake from his slumber. Elara, startled by the sound, immediately moved to his side, her eyes filled with concern. Raphael, disoriented and unsure of his surroundings, looked around the unfamiliar room. His gaze fell upon Elara, who was approaching him with a calm, reassuring demeanor. Panic surged within him, and he sprang to his feet, his claws extending as he growled defensively.

Elara paused, taking in the sight of the frightened boy with his sharp claws and fierce expression. Her heart ached at the sight. "Don't worry," she said softly, her voice gentle and soothing as she continued to approach him. Raphael hesitated, watching her warily. There was something in her expression—genuine concern, not fear or anger—that made him pause. When she reached out to touch him, he did not resist, but to his surprise, Elara suddenly and unexpectedly pinned him down.

"Is that how you treat someone who just saved your life?" she chided, her tone light but firm. Raphael struggled against her grip, his tail wagging involuntarily in a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. He was shocked by her strength; despite her soft appearance, she was clearly no ordinary woman. Before he could gather his thoughts, a voice called out from outside the cottage.

"Elara?" the voice rang out, and she immediately released Raphael, but he remained pinned to the ground by her weight. She was heavier than she looked, and he found himself unable to move until she finally stood up.

"I'll be right back," she told him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Don't go anywhere," she added with a wink before leaving the cottage.

Raphael waited for a moment, glancing around the room. He considered making a break for it, but just as he was about to move, the door opened again. A man entered, carrying himself with an air of authority. Raphael's instincts kicked in, and he shifted back, assuming a defensive stance. The man, slightly surprised but impressed by the boy’s reflexes, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I’m not going to hurt you," the boss said, his tone calm and non-threatening. However, Raphael wasn't convinced. Without any plan or tactic, he lunged at the man, his claws outstretched. The boss easily dodged the attack, grabbing Raphael by the tail and tossing him to the ground with a smirk.

Raphael winced in pain, his pride more wounded than his body. The boss stood over him, clearly amused by the boy’s bravado. But before the situation could escalate further, Elara burst back into the room, holding a plate of small pieces of meat. She gasped at the sight before her—Raphael on the ground, flinching in pain, and the man smirking.

"What’s going on here?" she demanded, her voice sharp with disapproval.

"It’s not what it looks like," the man replied hastily, raising his hands in defense. Elara’s expression was a mixture of anger and concern as she glared at him.

"Then how does it look?" she retorted, her eyes narrowing. She marched over to him, balancing the plate in one hand while knocking him on the head with the other. The boss winced, rubbing his head where she had hit him.

"What was that for?" he complained, still nursing the bump on his head.

"That’s not how you treat a child!" Elara scolded, her tone leaving no room for argument. The boss opened his mouth to defend himself, but she had already turned her attention back to Raphael. She knelt beside him, her expression softening as she carefully touched the spot where he had been hurt. Raphael, still wary, allowed her to tend to him, surprised by her gentle care.

The boss watched them for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips as he saw Elara’s tender side. With a sigh, he turned and left the cottage, leaving the two of them alone.

"You shouldn’t just be fighting anyone you see," Elara gently admonished Raphael as she checked him for any other injuries. He found himself oddly comforted by her presence, though he couldn’t understand why. Something about her felt safe, almost familiar.

Elara noticed Raphael looking at her curiously. "Got something to say?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. He quickly shook his head, not wanting to admit his thoughts.

She handed him the plate of meat. "Here, eat this," she said, watching him carefully. He took the plate but hesitated, waiting for her to leave. Sensing his reluctance, she folded her arms and gave him a pointed look.

"I’m not leaving until you eat," she declared, a playful challenge in her tone. Defeated, Raphael lowered his head and began to eat the meat silently, his small bites cautious and unsure. Elara couldn’t help but find him adorable, and she reached out to gently pat his head. He flinched slightly at the touch but quickly relaxed, focusing on his meal.