Pet

"Wyiner," Xavier greeted him as he descended the stairs.

"Is it a good idea to leave him alone in the house, brother?" Wyiner asked, his voice low but anxious.

Xavier tightened the straps of his armor, his expression resolute. "I don't have any choice, Wyiner. This mission is critical to us. If we fail, the consequences will be dire." He glanced back toward the staircase, where Maxilin was asleep just beyond. "And don't worry, Maxilin is sound asleep. I don't think he'll wake up now."

Wyiner frowned, still uncertain. "But, brother, what if he wakes up?"

Xavier paused, considering the possibility.

"Don't be worried if he wakes up unexpectedly. Our Maxilin is a smart boy. He knows the rules. He won't open the door for anyone, no matter what. He understands the danger."

"He may be a child, but he's also my son. And he needs to start learning everything from now on, whether he like it or not. The world we live in doesn't allow for weakness."

Wyiner didn't say anything when his brother remarked, "It'll be OK."

But as they left the house, something tugged at his heart. A deep, unsettling feeling. He glanced back at the house, his eyes drawn to the upstairs window where Maxilin slept. His instincts told him to stay, but duty pushed him forward. With one last look, Wyiner turned and followed Xavier.

The brothers rejoined their team, slipping silently through the night toward the village. The forest was alive with shadows and the occasional rustle of leaves, but they moved with practiced ease, their faces set with determination.

Back at the house, all was quiet. Maxilin was comfortably asleep, lost in a dreamless slumber. But then, suddenly, his eyes snapped open. The room was still, bathed in the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the curtains. Maxilin sat up, his heart racing as he strained to hear.

"Father?" he called out, his small voice trembling in the darkness. There was no answer. He called again, louder this time, but only the echo of his own voice came back to him. The silence was unsettling, and Maxilin's thoughts raced.

'Father left me once more. Did Uncle go with him as well?' he wondered, glancing around the room. He tried to shake off the unease, convincing himself it was just his imagination, and lay back down, pulling the covers over his head.

But then, there it was again — a sound. A faint but persistent noise, like something tapping against the window. Maxilin's eyes flew open, and he sat up again, this time more alert. The noise grew louder, a rhythmic thumping that sent chills down his spine. He peered toward the window, but the thick curtain obscured his view.

It sounded like fluttering wings, something desperate trying to get in. The noise was relentless, crashing against the glass as if demanding entry. Maxilin's heart raced, and his father's warning echoed in his mind: "Don't ever open the window."

So, 

Maxilin lay in bed, trying to ignore the persistent noise, but it only grew louder. Each thump against the window sent a shiver down his spine. His heart beat with a mix of fear and curiosity, pulling him in two directions. His father's warning echoed in his mind, but the urge to know what was out there was overwhelming.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him. Maxilin sat up, staring at the window. The sound continued, now almost a steady beat. His heart yearned to know what it was, but his mind screamed at him to stay put. The struggle between caution and curiosity was intense, but eventually, his heart won.

He grabbed the lamp beside his bed, its faint light flickering as he slowly stood up. With hesitant steps, Maxilin approached the curtain. His hand trembled as he reached out, his breath catching in his throat. Just as he was about to pull the curtain aside, something hit the window with a forceful crash, shattering the glass.

Maxilin jumped back, fear gripping him as he stared at the broken window. His hand shook, but he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

 "I need to be strong," he murmured to himself.

 "How would I catch a monster if I am terrified now?"

Drawing on every ounce of courage, Maxilin stepped forward and cautiously pulled the curtain aside. His eyes widened in shock at what he saw: a bloodstain smeared across the window, and in the midst of it, a small baby falcon, its tiny wings frantically flapping against the shattered glass.

Relief washed over Maxilin as he realized it wasn't some terrifying creature but a helpless bird in need. He placed the lamp on the table and quickly opened the window, careful not to startle the injured falcon. The little bird chirped weakly, its eyes full of fear and pain.

Maxilin gently scooped the baby falcon into his hands, feeling its tiny heart racing against his palm. He could see that one of its wings was badly wounded, feathers matted with blood. It looked like the poor creature had been chased and had crashed into the window in desperation.

Maxilin carefully placed the injured hawk on his bed, noticing that some blood had smeared onto his hand. His heart raced as he wondered who could have attacked the helpless creature.

"Who would do something like that?" Maxilin whispered to himself, glancing around the room as if expecting an answer. The house felt eerily silent without his father or uncle nearby. Panic started to creep in, but he shook his head, trying to focus.

"What should I do now? My father and uncle aren't here. How am I supposed to treat it?" he muttered, looking down at the baby hawk, which chirped softly in pain. But after a moment, determination filled his eyes. He patted the little bird gently and whispered, "Don't worry, Hawki, I will take care of you."

He grabbed the lantern and hurried downstairs, his small feet barely making a sound on the wooden steps. He opened a drawer in the kitchen and found his father's first-aid kit, a box he had seen his father use many times before.

Returning to his room, Maxilin sat beside the hawk, who looked up at him with trusting eyes.

 "It's going to be okay, Hawki," Maxilin said, more to reassure himself than the bird. He opened the kit, clumsily mimicking the way his father used to handle it.

Maxilin dabbed a bit of medicine on the bird's wound, being as gentle as he could. The hawk flinched slightly but didn't make a sound.

 "I'm sorry, Hawki, but this will make you feel better," Maxilin murmured. He then carefully wrapped the hawk's wing with a strip of cloth. It wasn't a perfect bandage, but it was enough to hold the wing in place.

Maxilin smiled, proud of his work. The hawk stopped chirping, its eyes fluttering shut as it settled into the bed, clearly exhausted from its ordeal.

"You must be starving," Maxilin whispered, stroking the hawk's head with a gentle finger.

"You rest here. I'll go downstairs and find something for you to eat."

Maxilin quietly walked downstairs, determined to find something more suitable for the hawk. He scoured the kitchen, managing to kill two cockroaches and catch a small lizard. Satisfied with his finds, he wrapped them in a piece of paper and headed back to his room.

As soon as Maxilin entered, the hawk noticed him and chirped softly. Maxilin smiled, feeling a surge of affection for the little creature. He carefully held the lizard out in front of the hawk, who eagerly snatched it and began to gulp it down. Maxilin watched in fascination, thrilled that he could help.

The hawk, now perched on the edge of the bed, seemed to relax after its meal. Maxilin gently stroked its back, feeling the soft feathers under his fingers. "Will you stay with me, Hawki?" he asked softly. The hawk chirped in response, and Maxilin's eyes lit up.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, his excitement bubbling over.

"Then I'll call you Hawki from now on. I'll ask my father to build you a house," Maxilin said with a grin. The hawk fluttered its wings slightly, as if in agreement.

Maxilin's heart swelled with happiness.

"If you're comfortable in my bed, you're welcome to rest here too," he said. He glanced over at the window and noticed it was still open. He had forgotten to close it in his hurry to care for the hawk.

He looked back at the hawk, which had already closed its eyes and appeared to be resting peacefully.