Chapter 3: Scorched Scars

The spider lunged at the Yeti. With nimble movements, the Yeti dodged the strikes, trying to push it back. Noah watched in fear, his heart pounding. The Yeti roared at the spider, trying to communicate that it meant no harm. The spider paused, staring at the Yeti with sharp, calculating eyes.

"What do you think you're doing? There's a human beside you. Humans slaughtered our forest. They slaughtered your family. Your people once helped them, Yeti. And how did they repay you? With fire and death! And now you trust one of them? Have you forgotten? How can you carry one of them with you?" The spider seethed with hatred for all of humanity.

The Yeti turned to Noah and smiled gently before facing the spider again. It spoke calmly, trying to explain that Noah was different.

"I haven't forgotten. But I also haven't forgotten my mother's last words to me. 'Live,' she said. Not with hatred. Not with fear. Just live. He is not harmful, dear spider. He has been with me for days now. Just like me, he is alone. He is different. He doesn't want to hurt anyone."

The spider seemed to understand. "What you're doing will end badly, Yeti. Remember this. This mistake of yours won't just endanger you; it will put all of us at risk. This boy may be different, but the rest of his kind aren't. Humans are selfish and prejudiced. They won't care how kind you are. They will never accept you."

With that, the spider slowly retreated, disappearing into the depths of the forest.

Noah, still catching his breath, stared at the Yeti. The encounter replayed in his mind over and over again. The giant spider had vanished into the darkness of the forest, but it had left behind a wound—one that wasn't on the Yeti's body, but on its soul.

The Yeti remained silent for a long time. Noah could feel the weight of his thoughts. He reached out and gently placed a hand on the Yeti's shoulder.

"Thank you, Yeti," he said sincerely. "You protected me."

The Yeti gave him a small, knowing smile before leading him deeper into the cave. Noah's eyes once again landed on the stone tablets he had seen earlier. But this time, the ancient inscriptions seemed clearer, as if they were whispering their stories directly into his mind.

His fingers traced the old carvings, and suddenly, his vision blurred. A moment later, he was no longer in the cave.

He was somewhere else.

Surrounded by flames.

The fire swallowed the sky, and piercing screams echoed through the air. A massive, white-furred creature clutched its child tightly, trying to escape the inferno. Behind them, human voices rang out—voices twisted with fear and anger.

"Burn them all! They're all guilty!"

The Yetis were few in number, but once, they had lived alongside humans in harmony. While humans gathered fruit from the trees, Yetis carried stones from the rivers, building bridges. His mother had once tended the fields near the village, nourishing the soil with her bare hands. The humans had called them "Guardians of the Forest."

But then everything changed.

One day, a man arrived. He was furious, terrified. "The Yetis' eyes are made of darkness!" he screamed. "There is evil in them!" At first, the villagers had laughed. But then, a child disappeared. No one knew where they had gone. The people needed someone to blame.

That was when the Yetis realized the truth—humans feared what they did not understand. And that fear had sealed their fate.

The village decided. The Yetis would be punished. Their forests were set ablaze.

The mother Yeti, clutching her child, ran through the burning ruins. But she hesitated. She turned back for just a moment—and in the roaring flames, she saw the eyes of her mate. There was terror in them, but also farewell.

She let out a desperate cry and lunged toward him—only for her body to jolt mid-step.

A heavy arrow had buried itself deep into her back.

Her breath hitched.

She fell.

The child in her arms tumbled to the ground.

The last thing she saw before her vision faded was her child screaming for her.

Then, a second arrow tore through the air—piercing her child's small chest.

That child…

That child was the very Yeti standing beside Noah now.

Noah gasped, his chest tightening as he returned to reality. What he had just witnessed was more than a memory—it was a wound carried in silence. His gaze fell on the scars that stretched across the Yeti's back. They were not just burned into his flesh. They were seared into his soul.

The Yeti stared blankly ahead, as if trapped in the past. The silence between them was heavier than any words.

Then, the Yeti finally spoke.

"Run, my child!" My mother roared. When she held me in her arms, her fur was warm, her heart strong. But I could see the fear in her eyes. "Never look back! No matter what happens, live! Because… because someone must remember our story." That was the last time I ever saw my mother. The last time I ever saw anyone from my kind.

As the flames devoured the sky, my legs trembled. And when my mother's voice disappeared into the fire, something inside me shattered.

I reached the edge of a cliff.

Below, there was only a river.

I had no choice but to jump.

The icy water swallowed me whole, but all I could hear was one question echoing in my heart: 'Why?'"

Noah barely had time to process the weight of those words before the Yeti spoke again.

"Noah… Now you understand." The Yeti's voice was quiet. "Why I fear humans. Why I am alone."

Noah thought long and hard.

"How do you carry this, Yeti?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "All this pain, all this loss, all this betrayal... How do you still hold on? Humans took everything from you, yet you still trust me. If I were you..." Noah hesitated, his fists clenching. "If I were you, I would have burned with that hatred."

But then, he looked at the Yeti's face. He thought of their time together. Their shared moments.

"But here and now... I won't leave him alone. I fear loneliness too. 'Someone must remember our story,' his mother said. Maybe... maybe that someone is me. I won't forget him. I won't forget his pain. His loss. And... his courage."

Noah stepped closer and gave the Yeti a firm nod. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke the words that mattered most.

"You are not alone."

The Yeti's eyes widened slightly. He didn't speak. He simply stared at Noah, as if—for the first time—he was truly understood.

And in the quiet darkness of the cave, amidst the heavy shadows of the past, something small but powerful began to flicker.

A flame.

A warmth.

Hope.