Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 370: Chapter 33 Drawing Lots and the Lion_2

So Xiao Hofman’s name was crossed out from the roll, and “Berlion from Nanxin Village” was added.

The ink on the register hadn’t dried yet when Bell ran over, beaming: “Commander, I volunteer to serve in place of Mr. Wilkes!”

Winters finally understood how Mr. Michel felt when he grabbed the stick.

“What mess are you adding to?” he forced down the urge to give the brat before him a beating: “I haven’t decided what to do with your new pet yet!”

…

Time rewound to five days earlier, inside the hunter’s cabin.

Winters, Bell, and a cub—now barely larger than a cat but certainly destined to weigh hundreds of kilograms one day—were in the same room.

Bell quickly picked up the cub from the ground and held it in his embrace. The Little Lion uttered a dissatisfied groaning sound, struggling to climb onto Bell’s shoulder.@@novelbin@@

“Sir, please don’t kill it,” Bell begged as he held the cub and stepped backward, nearly in tears.

Silence, which lasted for a good ten seconds.

Winters sighed and asked, “Has it been weaned yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Then what are you feeding it?”

“At first, it was dog milk because there was a family in Hedong Village whose dog had pups. Later, when there wasn’t enough dog milk, I bought sheep’s milk.”

“You needed money for this?”

Bell nodded.

“Why couldn’t you tell me straight?” Winters dragged a chair over to sit: “Put it down. The little thing is uncomfortable being held by you. If I wanted to kill it, you couldn’t stop me.”

Bell wiped away his tears and carefully set the cub down on the ground. The Little Lion, once again free, quickly hid in the corner of the room.

The pitiable look of the young hunter reminded Winters of Elizabeth, who had found a kitten outside and had pleaded with Cosette to take it in—except back then, it wasn’t known as the Little General; it was just a kitten with eyes yet to open.

The scene before him inadvertently touched a soft spot in his heart.

[Don’t rush.] Winters thought to himself, admonishing: [Speak in terms that Bell can understand.]

Poor Lieutenant Bell wasn’t married yet, but he was already experiencing the troubles of parenting.

“Male or female?” Winters gestured to the other chair across the table: “Don’t stand there, sit and talk.”

“Male.” Bell obediently sat down.

“When it’s two months old, milk alone won’t be enough. By that time, it’ll need to eat meat. Do you understand that?”

Bell first shook his head, then quickly nodded.

“When it needs meat, what do you plan to feed it?” Winters’s question sharpened.

Bell answered urgently: “I’ll hunt! I’ll hunt rabbits, deer, wild boars to feed it!”

“With your skills, you should be able to feed it until it’s half a year old. I’ll be generous and assume you can feed it until it’s one year old.” Winters tapped the table lightly, his gaze fixed on the young hunter’s eyes: “But do you know how long a lioness rears her cubs?”

The young hunter stared blankly.

“At least two years,” Winters said coldly. “According to Brother Reed, it’s not unusual for a lion cub to follow its mother for three years. You’ve seen the size of its mother; do you think you can still feed it after it’s a year old?”

“By then, I can release it back into the forest; it can hunt on its own and eat its fill,” Bell argued still.

“Kid, have you ever raised a cat?” Winters asked an unrelated question.

The young hunter shook his head.

“Only kittens raised by a mother cat will catch mice because the mother teaches them how to hunt. A cat raised by people won’t catch a mouse, even if you put one right in front of it. Are you a lioness? If it gets used to the food you feed it, will it still go hunting?”

“I…” Bell was at a loss for words.

“Let me ask you another question, why did your father fight to the death to kill its mother?” Winters didn’t give the young hunter a chance to breathe, answering his own question: “Because its mother ate humans. And why did its mother eat humans if not because she couldn’t fill her belly with the prey in the forest? If you send it back to the forest, can it eat its fill? Won’t it just repeat its mother’s tragedy?”

Another long silence followed, with Bell sobbing, “I don’t care; it just can’t be killed.”

The Little Lion hidden in the corner of the room gradually stopped being afraid. Unable to contain its curiosity, it shakily crept toward the table, drawing near the strange, frightening, upright ape.

Winters felt something touching his boots and, looking down, discovered the cub had run out at some point and was rubbing and nibbling at his boot tip.

He scooped up the Little Lion in one go. Its body was fluffy, soft, and warm, indeed feeling like that of a cat.

Bell was startled. Just as he was about to come forward to grab it, seeing that the Lieutenant was just casually playing with the Little Lion on the table, he sat back in his chair.

“You don’t want to kill it either, right?” Bell asked cautiously.

“I’ve never said such a thing. If I think it will endanger Wolf Town in the future, then I won’t hesitate. But now, there are many possibilities,” Winters gently rubbed the cub’s plump belly, while the Little Lion discontentedly groaned in a milky voice: “Have you helped it defecate and urinate today?”

Bell was clearly flustered: “What?”

“Don’t understand? I guess previously it was the mother dog you found that did the job for you,” Winters sighed. “Otherwise, this little guy would have died long ago. It’s also because of its strong will to live that it has lasted this long with you.”

Winters took a handkerchief from his bosom, dipped it in warm water, and gently wiped the cub’s excretory area until the handkerchief was completely soaked with a pale yellow liquid.

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