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Couple of days later... The wind carried the sharp scent of iron and earth as Zephyr entered Stable Row before dawn, a lantern in one hand and a bucket in the other. His muscles ached with every step, but there was a rhythm to the routine now, something steadying about repetition.
He'd learned the way each beast chewed, the way their eyes followed his every movement when hungry, or how some of them, like the clawed buckers, reacted violently to unfamiliar scents. He still had to dodge more than one spitball of half-chewed greens each day, but at least now they missed his face.
This morning, however, the usual quiet was broken.
A distant commotion echoed from the eastern practice yard. Loud voices, barking orders, and the unmistakable, high-pitched screeches of a distressed beast. Zephyr paused, narrowing his eyes in the dark. The academy's eastern side was reserved for trainee combat tamers and their practical drills. It had nothing to do with him or his chores.
But curiosity got the better of him.
He set down the bucket beside the Rockhide Lizard's pen and crept toward the sound, the grass was wet with dew underfoot. He stayed behind the trees lining the path, careful to keep his lantern hidden.
The yard was filled with trainees in padded armor and leather beast-handling gauntlets. A dozen students had circled around something, a beast Zephyr couldn't see from this angle and two instructors stood watching closely. One of them was gesturing toward a tall boy in the center of the ring.
The boy's name was Callen Dros. Age 17, Rank C Beast Tamer. Known for arrogance and mid-tier combat aptitude. Possesses a bond with a Bristle Fang Cub.
Beast: Bristle Fang.
Rank C Beast: A canine-type predator with steel-like fur and serrated fangs. Difficult to tame. Known for unpredictable temperament and loyalty to only one master.
Callen raised his arm and barked a command.
The Bristle Fang lunged toward a hay dummy, but halfway there, it suddenly yelped, skidded, and collapsed in a heap. Its legs twitched in pain, foam bubbling at the edges of its mouth. The ring erupted in murmurs.
"Poison?" someone said. "Or did it overdraw its mana again?"
Zephyr stepped closer instinctively, peering through the trees. The Bristle Fang was clearly in pain. Its fur twitched unnaturally, and its pupils were dilated. Whatever was happening wasn't normal fatigue.
Callen knelt, trying to lift its head. "What's wrong with you now? I gave you a boost pill this morning!"
A voice from the crowd scoffed. "Maybe you gave him too much. Idiot."
The instructor frowned but said nothing.
Zephyr hesitated. He shouldn't get involved. He had no place among them. And yet, something itched at his gut, an instinct, maybe, or just his training as a caretaker. He'd seen something like this before. Overstimulation from beast stimulants could trigger nerve spasms. If untreated quickly, the creature might suffer internal rupture.
He looked down at the pouch hanging from his belt. There were standard feed supplements infused with mild calming agents. His Beast Feed Cultivation skill amplified their effectiveness if applied directly.
Against his better judgment, Zephyr stepped forward from the tree line.
"I can help." The words silenced the yard.
Callen turned slowly, his brow furrowing as he saw Zephyr approaching, still wearing his mud-stained boots and caretaker's apron.
"You?" he sneered. "You're that new farmer boy. The F-rank loser."
Whispers rippled through the crowd. Zephyr felt every stare like a weight pressing into his chest, but he stood firm.
"Your beast is suffering a reaction to a mana overdose," he said, voice steady. "It needs a slow-release calming mixture. I have something that might stop the convulsions."
Callen scoffed. "You think some grain boy knows more than the instructors?"
One of the instructors, a middle-aged woman with crow's feet around her eyes, raised a hand.
"Let him try," she said. "Better than watching it suffer."
Callen looked ready to argue, but stepped back reluctantly. He can't disobey an instructor's orders.
Zephyr knelt beside the Bristle Fang, speaking softly under his breath. "It will be alright." He reached into his pouch, took a small pinch of amber dust, and mixed it with a bit of water in his palm, forming a thin paste. The beast growled weakly but didn't resist as he applied the mixture along the edges of its jaw and under its nose.
Seconds passed.
Then the Bristle Fang exhaled shakily, its limbs relaxing. The foam around its mouth subsided. Its twitching slowed to a stop.
Gasps filled the ring. Callen's face darkened, but he said nothing. The instructor stepped forward. "What was that?"
"Chamomile grain essence," Zephyr replied. "Mixed with drop-seed extract. It reacts well with nerve channels in high-metabolism beasts."
The woman nodded. "And your skill enhances seed absorption?"
"Yes."
She studied him. "What's your name?"
"Zephyr. Zephyr Valorian." He replied.
"Well, Zephyr, remind me to send a notice to the infirmary. They could use someone like you." Then she turned to Callen. "And you... next time you drug your beast, try not to nearly kill it."
Snickers spread through the crowd. Zephyr stood and turned to leave, not waiting for praise. As he walked back toward Stable Row, the weight in his chest was lighter than it had been in days.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped behind the academy's western ridge, Zephyr sat on a stone step outside the Caretaker Dorm. The bucket beside him was empty, and his coat still smelled faintly of lizard musk and herbal poultice. He stared at the horizon, watching the colors shift from orange to violet to deep blue.
He didn't hear Fenna approaching until she sat down beside him. "You're making a name for yourself," she said, handing him a cloth-wrapped sandwich.
He glanced over. "How do you always know when I haven't eaten?"
"Because you always forget to eat. Dummy!"
He smiled faintly, then took a bite. Warm bread and salted goat meat. "Thank you."
"They're talking about you," she said after a while. "In the combat wing. They're calling you 'Feed Boy.'"
He snorted. "That sounds heroic."
"But they're also saying you saved Callen Dros' Bristle Fang. That's not nothing."
"Doesn't mean they respect me." Zephyr replied.
Fenna shrugged. "Respect comes after results. You're starting to show those."
They sat in silence for a while longer. Then she asked, "Do you still think your skill is useless?"
Zephyr looked out at the stars just beginning to flicker in the night sky. "I don't know," he said. "But I'm not ready to give up yet."