The following morning, I was jolted awake when a rock struck my face. It seemed the boy had been up for a while, attempting to catch my attention. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the barn walls, symbolizing a new beginning after the previous night's events.

Observing the boy, I could see his uncertainty and fear. He was tucked away in the corner of his makeshift bed, his bright red eyes cautiously watching every move I made. His wariness of me was noticeable as he shielded his face with his arms, unsure of how to react to my presence.

"Hey, good morning."

The boy didn't respond with words, but he tentatively pointed towards a chicken that had made its way near the barn doors, seemingly ready to lay eggs.

"Are you hungry? You want some breakfast?"

Despite my attempts to engage with the boy, he remained silent and avoided direct eye contact. His face was turned towards the walls of the loft, perhaps indicating fear or discomfort at my presence. Wishing to bridge the gap between us, I cautiously closed the distance, walking slowly towards him.

The sudden clatter of the bow hitting the floor startled both of us, scattering arrows from the quiver across the floor. The child's reaction was immediate and defensive upon seeing the arrows. He hissed just like a cornered cat, swiftly climbing up the hay bales, trying to put distance between himself and the arrows strewn about.

Realizing that the sight of the arrows had triggered his defensive behavior, I gathered the loose arrows with care, ensuring my movements were calm and deliberate, to avoid further alarming him.

"Hey, I understand. Look!"

To demonstrate my peaceful intentions, I picked up the quiver and tossed it away, down to the entrance of the barn, distancing the arrows from both of us.

I held out my empty hands towards him, spreading my fingers wide. I wanted to clearly show him that I was unarmed and posed no threat.

"See? you have nothing to worry about."

The boy's eyes widened in surprise when he noticed the chicken approaching the quiver I had tossed near the barn doors. He briefly pointed at the chicken, showing a momentary interest, before retreating back to the corner of his temporary bed, a place where he seemed to feel at ease.

"Do you want an egg? I can get you a couple!"

With no delay, I leaped down from the loft, heading straight for the hen's nest. I picked up two eggs, then quickly climbed back up the ladder to the loft.

I placed the eggs near him and then retreated to my own corner, giving him space to feel comfortable. The boy cautiously approached the eggs, eventually picking one up and retreating back to his corner. He gave the egg a tentative sniff and then suddenly gagged, reacting strongly to the scent. In a swift motion, he threw the egg back in my direction.

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The egg flew through the air and splattered against the wall, with some of it landing on my head.

The child burst into a wild laugh, the first real sign of unguarded emotion I had seen from him. He pointed again at the hen wandering inside the barn, clearly amused by the whole situation.

"You think it's funny, huh? I am not getting you any more eggs if you're not going to eat them."

To my surprise, the boy picked up the remaining egg and pushed it towards me, as if offering it back. He pointed again at the hen ambling around the barn. It took me a moment, but then it clicked - he wasn't interested in eating the eggs; he wanted the chicken itself.

"You want the chicken?"

As the boy took in the scents of the barn, he suddenly withdrew back to his corner, a hint of wariness returning to his behavior. At that moment, Arland entered the barn, his expression marked with concern, especially upon noticing the quiver lying on the ground.

"Good morning, Randall. I hope you managed to get some sleep last night."

"I got some sleep, but the boy's been awake for a while. He seems interested in that chicken over there. I offered him eggs, but he wasn't interested - he threw one of the eggs at me."

Arland laughs "I see. Let's find out what he does if I bring the chicken closer to him."

It wasn't surprising that a child who had possibly grown up in the wilderness would have a preference for raw meat. Like all creatures, the primal need for sustenance often overcomes other considerations, breaking down the barriers of unfamiliarity or fear.

Arland carefully picked up the chicken and brought it up into the loft. The boy, intrigued by the sight, emerged from his corner, his attention fixated on the chicken in Arland's hands.

Arland extends his hands and holds the chicken firmly in front of him.

Suddenly, the boy made a quick movement, grabbing the chicken from Arland's grip and instantly biting its neck.

Arland backed off, surprised by the child's behavior. "I wasn't expecting that, but I must say, I shouldn't be surprised, considering the conditions he had lived in."

In a remarkably short amount of time, the boy had consumed the entirety of the chicken's insides, leaving behind nothing but a feathery carcass.

"I think we can work with him. What do you think?" Arland said.

Arland's question reflected a sense of shared responsibility and trust. Despite his status as the Lord of the Manor, he valued my input, which I found surprising. His question implied that dealing with the boy was not just a matter of command but an effort from both of us, possibly requiring discretion and secrecy, especially considering what the townspeople might think if they knew about the boy in the barn.

"I'll do whatever you ask, milord."

Arland, perceiving the formality in my tone, turned to me with a look of understanding. "I am not asking for your support as a soldier, I'm asking for your support as my son."

I acknowledged that Arland's decision was influenced by more than just the immediate circumstances. Ingrid's longing to be a mother again and Arland's commitment to fulfilling her wish were significant factors.

"I will help you, father. But I must ask, is this savage boy any different from when you found me?"

Arland smiles. " To answer your question, you already knew the difference between right and wrong when I decided to take you in."

Arland's words resonated with the truth of my own past. Even at the age of ten, I had a strong sense of justice, often standing up for those weaker than myself, despite the personal risks involved.

Understanding Arland's perspective became crucial. He viewed this boy not just as a responsibility but as a beacon of hope, potentially a means to bring new life and joy into his and Ingrid's relationship.

"Yes, father. I will do my best as a big brother."

The savage boy stared at us with his fiery red eyes, a sight I've always found unnerving.