If learning to hunt alone was complicated, teaching two cubs was a bit more than that, at least at first.
Growl just watched and rarely intervened in the conversation, which made Wail uncomfortable, while Grul complained constantly.
"Why do we have to hunt from the tops of trees? I'm tired! Why don't we go the other way? We're getting too far from home!" was what Wail understood every time he turned to look at him, but he couldn't blame him. Grul was technically a baby or a toddler. If what his mother told him was true, he shouldn't be old enough to go hunting for at least another eight seasons, or two more years. "So why don't they give us more food?" Wail thought.
While his brothers did what he told them to do, there were some things they didn't like. Grul had no problem with traps, but Growl didn't seem to like them. Growl had no problem stalking his prey, but Grul was too clumsy and always scared them away, so he hated it.
Neither of them had any trouble killing their prey, and although it was a bit complicated at first, they eventually managed to prepare the meat properly. Wail was surprised to see that Grul was much better than Growl at this. He would later learn that Grul spent his time watching his mother prepare the food, so he knew the process even better than Wail.
Three hunters meant bigger prey, or so Wail thought at first. He usually let go of the bigger prey in the traps because he had no way to kill them. Among them was something resembling a deer with antlers protruding all over its body, and every time it fell into the traps, it destroyed them.
One afternoon like any other, they finally found it in one of the traps. Wail led Growl and Grul to their positions. Each of them had to grab a rope to immobilize the animal, which Grul had recognized as a Zonath. Wail knew that even with the help of his brothers, killing the Zonath would be difficult. The horns created a deadly barrier for someone of Wail's size. But he didn't stop. With the animal immobilized by his brothers, Wail attacked. As he had seen on television in his past life, he tried to suffocate it by attacking its neck, but failed. Even immobilized, the animal writhed in such a way that the horns covering it created a barrier that, if it hit Wail, would do a lot of damage.
He tried the neck, the snout, the head, but nothing. Wherever he attacked, the animal's squirming alone forced him to retreat. His brothers were starting to get tired; he had to finish the Zonath off quickly, so he decided to go all in on one attack. So far, his claws hadn't been able to pierce the animal's tough hide, so Wail decided to use all his strength. Of course, such a blow would leave him vulnerable to a counterattack, but he was confident he could recover quickly enough to escape.
Wail went into his sunken state. Little by little, everything began to slow down: the leaves falling from the trees, the branches blowing in the wind, and above all, the zonath. Wail bared his claws, making them grow as long as possible, and concentrating all his strength into a single blow. He looked for an opening and attacked.
The blow found its mark, and blood spurted from the zonath's neck. As he received the blow, the zonath twisted so that one of the horns sprouting from its shoulder swung toward Wail.
Splat!
Wail held his arms in front of him like a shield. The tip of the horn pierced both of his forearms and nearly impaled Wail through the chest. With a swift movement, the zonath threw Wail away.
Growl and Grul released their ropes and ran after Wail, trying to save him. Now free, the zonath quickly fled and disappeared into the forest.
They finished early that day. His mother scolded him harshly as soon as he returned home, but thanks to his healing factor, it only took him two days to recover. Still, he knew that if he truly wanted to hunt larger prey, he had to find a way to kill it before it killed him.
---
In one of the many clearings within the forest inside the wall, Wail stood in front of a huge boulder. The sunken state was useful; it allowed him to use much more strength than normal, but it had a limit.
Wail knew that when the time came, he would be able to kill the zonath without any problems. Even now, he felt himself growing stronger with each passing day. But something inside him was telling him to hurry; that he didn't have time to waste. The memory of his mother was on his mind; every time he spoke to her, Wail could see a certain sadness. Wail didn't know why, but he had to get stronger, and soon.
He began experimenting with projectiles, though he gave up on the idea after a few hours. It wasn't the first time he'd thought about it, but without the technical knowledge of how to make a bow, any attempt at crafting one would be a waste of time. For starters, the animals in the Black Forest possessed a skin stronger than normal, so a bow and arrows made by an amateur wouldn't be much help. Then he thought of a sling. You didn't need to be an engineer to create one; in fact, Wail had already made a prototipe. But hitting the target required a lot of training, and although Wail practiced every day, he knew it would take a while before he could use it in real life. So, he decided to put the projectiles aside for a while. He didn't even consider fireguns.
Then he thought about continuing to use traps. But he realized that they only work inside the wall. His mother explained it to him. Outside the wall, the beasts are capable of destroying metal like foam; there's no way they'll work. Of course, Wail didn't believe his traps would be 100 percent useless outside the wall, but he didn't plan on ignoring his mother's advice either; he was ignorant in this world, after all.
Which left him with only one option: I have to get stronger, he thought.
Thus began his special training, and the first thing he did was… tire himself out. Wail pushed his sunken state to the limit and began punching a rock. His fists left small marks on his target. Wail jumped and ran, kicking and flipping. At some point, he forgot about his training and started having fun; it became a game.
When he finally stopped and emerged from the sunken state, he was shocked. Everything was spinning, his body felt heavy, and he couldn't hold himself up. Wail fought the loss of consciousness. This was the state he wanted to be in. He knew there was something more he could find by pushing his body to the limit. "It's like in those novels," he remembered. "I just have to push myself, but I'm so tired," he thought, and fell asleep.
Wail found himself back on a battlefield.
Boom!
Bombs were ringing out all around.
Boom!
He was curled up in a trench.
Boom! Boom! Crack!
All around him, everyone was dead. "Why?" he cried. "Why are you doing this?"
Boom!
The bombs were getting closer. "They didn't deserve to die!"
Boom!
"They deserved better!"
Boom!
"Why did they abandon us?"
Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
The tank tracks were getting closer, he knew it. "Those who send us here. They deserve to die! Both sides deserve to die!"
Waaa!
With a scream, Wail woke up. He felt himself boiling over, an enormous feeling consuming him. He had to let it out. He wanted to destroy, to hurt. He turned to look at the enormous rock on which, until that afternoon, he could only leave small marks, and he hit it with all his might.
Boom!
His arm sank into the rock which in turn crumbled into many small pieces.
Wail was tired. Different from how he'd felt after using all his strength that afternoon. No, this kind of tiredness was different, the kind of tiredness only one who has lost everything can know. He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. It was the first time he'd cried in this world. "I'm not the same anymore! I have a family! I'm not going to let anyone take everything away from me again!" he thought. But he didn't understand. He knew he had memories from a past life, but they were too vague. At least for the most part, he didn't remember anything concrete, but he did remember the pain, the fear, the horror, and the terror—all the horrible things were etched inside him.
"Fuuuu!" He breathed deeply, trying to remember the pain. For a moment, he thought it would be difficult, but he was wrong.
—What!?— He felt it, a change occurred, his claws turned red, his eyes were able to see better and he was aware of everything around him, which seemed unreal, it was different from the sunken state, his heart ached, it wasn't anger, it wasn't hate, it wasn't fury, it was "Wrath"