Chapter Text
"UWAAOOO!!”
A cloud of dust.
A glint of metal.
A piece of meat.
A blurred vision of rags and animal hides snaps up the dangling bait from the startled travelers before they even have time to realize what happened.
Good start. I eat good today.
The three chocobo riders, likely out on a morning hunt, are long gone before the dust settles and the lithe form of a human boy jumps to the ground from the lobo he was riding, now dead. He plops himself down on the ground and crosses his legs, eager to dig into his breakfast.
The Wild Child of the Veldt has struck again.
It’s considered good luck by hunters to encounter the boy dressed as a beast, a sure sign that the beasts are biting that day. These hunters were after bigger game than a mere lobo, but offered their dried meat to the Wild Child all the same. It would be terribly bad manners not to, after all. This is the protector spirit of the plains (or so the tale goes), and to please him is to please the beasts he rides.
This simple boy knows nothing of the legends that surround him. He only knows the result: free food. He is not a stupid child, as all who meet him up close will attest to with a dreamy sort of confidence only a folk legend and a round of ale can inspire.
“...I saw him! His eyes shine with intelligence and his riding skills as good as yours or mine...”
“...Believe me, he may be smarter than the lot of you. He’ll never go hungry, that’s for sure!...”
“...I’ll wager my chocobo that he’s out there right now, laughing at us for thinking he’s just a witless child that needs fed. Someone needs to tame that tornado and teach him some manners, hahahaha...”
And so on. The men regale themselves with their experiences, some true, some not. The Wild Child cares not.
Need find more friends. Good doggy, you sleep now.
Upon finishing his meal, the boy looks over his steed. Only a temporary one, but his fondness for all the beasts on the plain is the same. He cares for them as they cared for him these thirteen years. He doesn’t know why he’s here, or where he came from, but he doesn’t dwell on such difficult thoughts. The animals took him in as one of their own, and he has learned their ways with uncanny ease.
Still, the boy has moments where he yearns for his people. He pets his poor friend killed in the hunt, a strange, but calm, look in his eyes. It is not sadness or anger, but the simple acceptance of life and death that can only come from living in the harshness of the wild. He will see many more deaths like this before the day runs out.
Without looking back, he leaps up and wanders towards the small bundle of houses near the eastern borders of the land he calls home.
Mobliz it is called, and Gau knows this. He knows many things from the men who come out to hunt every day. Gau has never entered the small village. He’s far too afraid. All his life his wild family has shunned the place, and he has mimicked their behavior all too well. Whatever that place is, it’s not for him.
But oh how he would like just a peek inside those walls. To see the creatures that look so much like him and whose cries sound so much like his own.
Is dangerous, Gau knows. But is Gau’s kind...and I so alone...
Many hours passed before the forgotten child turns his head away from the enticing sounds and sights of the village. Someday he will join them. But not today.
He leaps away, the scent of a new ride tickling his senses. A huge tusker gallops by him and pays no heed to the familiar sight of the human dressed in rags. He is one of them, and shows it by galloping right alongside the tusker for a few paces, then leaping up and around the broad hairy shoulders of the bear-like mammoth. He grabs onto its back like a seasoned chocobo rider and hangs on, whooping with delight. How far the great creature will take him is up to the whims of the day.
Soon the tusker is joined by a trio of cirpius birds that circle it, waiting to feed. They twill and chirp and Gau twills and chirps. The tusker bellows a welcome to its feathery little companions, and Gau bellows his welcome, too. Anyone hearing the commotion would think there were twice as many of these animals raging across the plains.
And so the Wild Child leaps and rages, leaps and rages. He leads a carefree life only dreamt of by his more “civilized” brethren. They look at the free-willed child with a sense of awe and longing to join him. Of course the poor creature does not realize this, and is always hoping to join his kind and find a meaning to his life that the Veldt has not afforded him.
Does he understand that this is what he looks for? No. His mind, as sharp as it is, is still trapped in the world of beasts. All he knows is the longing in the pit of his stomach for something. Something...more.
Gau tired now. Gau go home. Good night Veldt! Good night Mobliz! Good night beasties!
The weary boy makes his way to the small cave he calls home as the sun sinks below the horizon. It is a pleasant place, full of the whooshing of strong water. The rushing water scares Gau, and always has, but it also calls out to him from the deepest reaches of his subconscious. A lingering memory of dread and fear in the back of his mind itches whenever he gets too close to the cliffs, but he knows he is safe in his cave at night. He wants so badly to be one with his own kind, yet an instinctual fear keeps him hidden from them while he sleeps. He will rest now, and start the next day anew, his hopes and dreams borne once again without a flicker lost to the night.
The child, so young and innocent, curls up in a ball and cradles his one possession, his one keepsake of the people he has been separated from. It is his treasure, his “shiny”.
He sticks his thumb in his mouth and falls asleep like a newborn baby, the falling waters lulling him into a deep, peaceful trance.
Good night, Gau.