Hunter wiped the sweat from his brow, sitting at his work station.

He'd been carving palisman all evening, his fingers sore and his back aching from the uncomfortable position he'd been sitting in for hours now.

He enjoyed life. It felt strange to think that, to admit that. He wasn't under Belos's watchful eye anymore. He was free to be whatever he wanted, free to do and think and speak whatever he wanted. Hunter smiled at the thought.

"Free."

It rang through his head and thrummed through his veins-- artificial or not, he was alive. Then, when he was younger, that didn't matter so much. Now? Now he was happy to be alive. Happy to have friends, happy to have you, happy to exist with his new adoptive father, Darius.

Life was good. Life was perfect.