Qurnuk's voice was slightly shaky at that moment, and the archer quickly noticed.

As much as Wokor was a great analyst in battle, exploration, and reconnaissance, he had the great gap of not understanding what other people felt. Perhaps it was a result of his eternal loneliness since he was born, of witnessing the deaths of colleagues who were unable to recover their wounds, or just the misfortune of having come into the world with a heart as cold as his.

"Your voice..." without understanding how to connect his colleague's tone of voice to a feeling, Wokor asked. "Is your voice hurt?"

At the same time that the archer was asking that question, Qurnuk was surprised. Then, he stopped running immediately and the companion soon imitated him.

On the stage of a flat rock - surrounded by nocturnal flowers that had been shy by the arrival of the two - the black-winged moth-boy turned to face Wokor's cold gaze.

Qurnuk showed some seriousness on his features, but not for long.

"I think you can say that," he gave the archer a humble smile. "I'm not the type that cares about pain, after all, after so many lashes I suffered for everyone else, I must have gotten used to it."

The black-winged moth-boy soon let go of Wokor's hand. Then, he touched his folded wings on his strong chest.

"These are stiff as a rock," he knocked his fist on his protective wings. "They endure and persevere even against the fiercest of the Stone Bears."

Observing that Wokor was attracted to look at those strong black wings, Qurnuk arched them afterward. His flight limbs opened like curtains from a dark and ghostly theater so that his muscular, pale body could be completely seen after that exuberant performance.

Without giving up his simple smile, Qurnuk showed the marks of large scars that surrounded his powerful body. There, the archer denoted every little story hewn on that screen as clear as the moon, and without realizing it, Wokor's eyes were fascinated.

The black-winged moth-boy brought his palm up to his large chest.

"But here..." he pointed to the center of his chest, where his heart would be. "Deep inside here, I am as soft and fragile as a little toad."

Wokor was in hypnosis that he would never have imagined entering. His fluffy antennae flickered with the presence of a scene that completely captured his attention, and even his sturdy wings ended up tingling with the chill that went up to his spine.

The archer's mouth parted, letting out a small involuntary sigh of admiration.

"Do you..." Wokor pointed curiously at Qurnuk's heart as if he wanted to explore what was there inside that unique pale anatomy.

"Yes?" the black-winged moth-boy smiled with certain narcissism, knowing too well that he was being appreciated by the novice.

"Do you..." the archer found the words as he looked into Qurnuk's eyes. "Do you have a toad inside your chest?"

It made Qurnuk's eyes widen and fix them on Wokor's naive expression.

"Dude..." facepalming himself, the black-winged moth-boy rolled his eyes while hiding his chest again. "Ugh! Nevermind!"

Sulking and turning his back on Wokor, Qurnuk now sat on a spare rock on that little peak they were on. There, the black-winged moth-boy leaned forward while briefly viewing the forest stage ahead, not long before he rubbed the back of his neck in a small frustration.

"This was a tough night... not gonna lie," Qurnuk shared as he sighed. "Too many emotions to deal with."

Wokor remained silent as he watched the black-winged moth-boy in his seat. He realized that Qurnuk was discouraged at that moment, but he did not understand the real reason for that reaction.

"If I left you like this, I must apologize," the archer said as he took a step forward, soon standing beside his colleague. "I didn't mean to-"

"Not your fault, rookie," Qurnuk did not take his discouraging eyes off the wide forest that showed its colors below his eyes. "Not your fault."