The memory of that tool existed in his mind because it had already existed in his body. In that instant, he knew: the net had been carved with countless wings of other moth-men together, twisted and entwined like lives discarded on a whim.

Wokor's eyes widened; the memory of his rite of passage struck him suddenly, and now he recalled - in full details - the mutilation he had undergone the other night.

The whisper of the witnesses, the smell of the priestesses' incense, the lights shining over his face, Urioth's horrifying smile... it all stunned him in strong flashes of agony.

Suddenly, oblivious to all attentions and with trembling lips, Wokor burst into tears.

Without letting go of the wings of countless strangers in his hands, the young archer let his face hang down to that hunting net, allowing his shy cry to bathe each of the souls in his possession.

He cried and groaned with the sadness that awoke from his frozen heart as if a waterfall could finally get rid of the glaciers that locked it in place. And there, Wokor insisted on the new feeling.

Without realizing it, a shadowed silhouette passed through the warehouse door, taking silent steps before placing itself close to Wokor's melancholy presence.

The individual paused very close to the young archer as it wanted to guide its hand to his shoulder. However, it gave up.

Taking some time to sketch a reaction to what they saw, the subject practiced another type of approach.

"You know," the mysterious newcomer said. “You look cute without your lower wings. I say you shouldn’t be sad about it.”

After hearing those words, Wokor unattached himself from the hunting net with a furious look on his face. His eyes widened again, but now with anger that he couldn't control.

Dropping the net from his hands as he frowned, the young archer quickly drew his bow and two arrows before turning around. There, he quickly aimed at the silhouette that mocked his feelings, and without hesitation, Wokor shot to kill.

The arrows disappeared into the silhouette, but that did not stop them from approaching.

Nearing the light beams from the window, Qurnuk's face was revealed in front of Wokor.

"Whoa, there!" Qurnuk approached the archer with a smile on his lips, bringing with him the two arrows embedded in his protective wings before breaking their shafts. “Take it easy on me! I'm just telling the truth!”

Seeing that the black-winged moth-boy still taunted him, Wokor was irritated.

Willing to have his pride preserved, the young archer drew new arrows. Qurnuk was now surprised.

Wokor readily looked at his companion's vital points. Aiming for the target's face, the archer fired a new burst.

Qurnuk was able to quickly dodge that instant dead, which made him lose his balance.

Seeing the perfect opportunity to be explored, Wokor ran towards the big muscular fellow, jumping on his back while trying to hang him with his bow.

“Hey! Hold... on!” Qurnuk struggled with the archer stuck to the back of his neck as he tried to get rid of that frustrating situation. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Managing to capture Wokor's bow, Qurnuk pulled the weapon out of play, but this did not stop the archer from acting and connect a head lock to his companion's neck.

Qurnuk's eyes widened while he was losing his breath, which forced the black-winged moth-boy to fall to the ground. Even so, Wokor did not stop.