Beast Empire

The Right Hand Awakens

Ethan sat in the moonlit clearing, his whole body shaking. His hands were still stained with his mother's blood dark and sticky, drying into the creases of his palms. He could still feel the warmth of it, the terrible wetness as it had poured between his fingers while he'd tried uselessly to stop the flow.

"I left her," he whispered, the words tasting like poison. "I left Ma bleeding in the dirt."

The fox kit trembled in his arms, whimpering with each labored breath. Its left hind leg was twisted at a horrible angle, clearly shattered, but Ethan barely registered it. All he could see was his mother's face pale as death, blood on her lips, telling him to run.

And he had run. Like a coward, he had run.

"She told me to find Father," he choked out, trying to justify it to himself, to the forest, to the dying creature in his arms. "She said to find him. But what if she's bleeding out right now while I'm sitting here? What if she needs me, and I'm not there?"

The kit made a pitiful sound, and Ethan looked down at it properly for the first time. The small fox was suffering, its breathing shallow and pained. The dead mother lay just beyond reach, and the kit kept trying weakly to crawl toward her despite its shattered leg.

"You want your mother," Ethan whispered, his voice breaking. "You don't understand why she won't wake up."

He pulled the kit closer to his chest, cradling it like his mother had once cradled him when he was small and frightened. "I want my Ma too," he sobbed. "She's hurt so badly. There was so much blood. And I just left her there. I should have stayed. I should have done something."

His whole body shook with grief and guilt. "Ma always knew how to help. She could heal anything: broken bones, deep cuts, fevers. She'd put her hands on people and make the pain go away." His voice cracked. "Why couldn't I do that? Why couldn't I stop the bleeding? Why am I so useless?"

He held the kit tighter, his tears falling onto its matted fur. "She's a healer. One of the best. Father always said so. Maybe she's healing herself right now. Maybe her magic is working, and the wound is closing, and she'll be fine."

But the memory of all that blood wouldn't leave him. The terrible wound. The way her eyes had gone distant.

"Please," he whispered desperately, rocking the kit like a child. "Please let her be okay. Please let Father get there on time. I can't lose her. I can't."

The kit whimpered in pain, and Ethan clutched it closer, as if holding this small, broken creature could somehow keep his mother alive through sheer force of will. "Don't die," he begged, though he didn't know if he was talking to the kit or to his mother lying somewhere in the darkness. "Please don't die. I need you. This kit needs its mother. I need mine. Please..."

His desperation, his grief, his overwhelming need for his mother to survive all of it swirled together into a crushing weight in his chest. He thought of his mother's gentle hands. Her healing touch. The way she'd soothe away pain with nothing but love and magic.

"I wish I could be like her," he sobbed into the kit's fur. "I wish I could heal. I wish I could have helped her. I wish"

Something stirred.

A warmth bloomed in his chest suddenly, unexpected, like his mother's hand on his forehead when he was sick. It spread down his arms, and his right hand, pressed against the kit's small body, began to tingle.

Ethan gasped as white light suddenly spilled from his palm, not green like his mother's magic, but pale and silvery like moonlight. It wrapped around the fox kit without him willing it, without him even understanding what was happening.

The kit made a soft sound as the light intensified. Ethan felt the bones shifting beneath his hand, straightening, knitting together. The kit's labored breathing eased, its small body relaxing as the pain melted away.

"What...?" Ethan stared at his glowing hand in shock and wonder.

When the light faded, the kit's leg was whole. It tested its weight carefully, then stood on all four paws, looking up at him with bright, clear eyes no longer filled with agony.

"I healed you," Ethan breathed, hardly believing it. "I didn't even try, I just... it just happened."

His mother's blood still stained his fingers, but now they glowed faintly with traces of white light. He stared at his right hand, then at the healed kit, then back at his hand.

"I have healing power," he whispered. "Like Ma. I'm a healer too."

Hope crashed over him like a breaking wave. "If I can heal," he said urgently, "then Ma can definitely heal herself. She's so much stronger than me. So much more skilled. Father needs to know he needs to get to her!"

He looked around the moonlit clearing, and cold realization washed over him. In his blind panic, running through tears and darkness, he'd completely lost his way. He had no idea where he was or which direction led back home.

"I was supposed to find Father," he whispered, horror creeping into his voice. "Ma told me to find him. But I don't even know where I am. I just ran and ran and"

He'd failed again. His mother had given him one simple task to find Marlin, and he'd gotten lost like a child.

"No," Ethan said fiercely, clutching the kit closer. "No, I can fix this. I just need to go back the way I came. Father goes hunting towards the lake. If I can find my way home, I can find the path to the lake."

He turned, trying to remember which direction he'd come from, but the forest all looked the same in the moonlight. Panic started to rise in his chest again.

The kit chirped softly and nuzzled his neck, and somehow the small gesture calmed him.

"Okay," Ethan said, taking a shaky breath. "Okay. I'll just retrace my steps. Look for broken branches, disturbed leaves. Father taught me how to track them. I can do this."

He started moving carefully through the trees, the kit warm against his chest, searching for any sign of the path he'd taken in his desperate flight. He had to get back. He had to find his father. His mother was counting on him.

"Please let her be okay," he whispered as he walked. "Please let Father get there in time."

He'd only taken a few steps when a voice spoke from the darkness ahead, familiar, steady, like solid ground beneath his feet.

"Ethan."