Wicker stared down, fascinated.

Some part of him started to feel pity for the bat--but Lior's enthusiasm was contagious, and his own eager adrenaline rush still carried him on an exuberant wave of what could only be described as bloodlust. Or, better yet, battle-lust. He'd enjoyed the confrontation, brief as it had been; the excitement and the thrill and the challenge of it.

And seeing his magic work like that, for the first time-... Seeing something weaken and fail just like that at the touch of his weaker spell-?

He was in awe of himself, caught up in his own power, wondering how far it could go. But Lior's exuberance brought him back, blinking, and he looked to the hatchling. He brought it down, too. It was teamwork, he reminded himself, before turning a thoughtful gaze back on the dead bat. "...Maybe?" he answered, unsure, and then stepped forward again. "Hold on a second!"

He didn't want Lior to get sick, too, and he wasn't sure it'd work that way, but it was best to be safe. As he pushed his magic into it again, he felt a trickle of warmth at all of Lior's prior praise. The whole 'best friend' and 'we defeated it' and all of that left him feeling utterly triumphant. "We killed a monster together!" he blurted, belatedly, in agreement--and gave a little kick backwards in excitement. "It should be safe to eat, now--I think I took the sick out with my magic. -We killed it!"

Wicker leapt away, bouncing in a circle, overcome by childish cheer.

As Lior began to eat, the scent of blood entered Wicker's awareness. He'd never really smelled it, before; Shango had gone off to hunt and only brought him fruit, while Titanite had fed him fruit.

But... somehow, the poor dead beast made him hungry.

He hesitated beforehand, though; Lior seemed to have claimed the carcass and indeed Wicker had thought it'd make more than a big enough meal for the hatchling. So, politeness dictating, he asked before he touched it. "Can I try some?" he hazarded.

It didn't occur to him how grim it might look, how ridiculous, a horse-beast chewing on a dead bat. To Wicker, it was just nature. Others ate Lessers; why couldn't he? He didn't know that horses usually didn't; he didn't realize that part of his body was tuned toward meat-eating, too. He just smelled it and was hungry.

"You should take a piece," he added, thinking of a trophy of some kind. "Like... a claw or... a tooth or something! To keep it. To remember it!" he went on. Not to remember the bat, no--but their shared conquest! The (brief) battle they'd fought!

Wicker eyed the body, that hunger slowly rising in him. He wasn't certain how to go about eating it, but then again, Lior had kind of shown him--had paved the way, a little. He lifted up one little wicker hoof and set it firmly on the bat's chest, wincing a little at the quiet 'crack' that came from it--and bracing himself, he leaned his head down.

Skull-like jaws nibbled delicately at first, as he searched for a piece to take; and after a moment's hesitation, Wicker got a firm grip on some of the skin. He pulled up and away, a strip of still-furred meat coming with him, and then backed off--leaving the rest to Lior. His head was up and his tail swishing as he moved, his eyes distant as he tasted this new form of food. It was-... chewy. Good, but--the fur! "Plegth," he spat, dropping the meat. His ears pinned and he spat out bits of black fur. "How do you get rid of that?!" he asked, leaning down to study the piece he'd taken. It wasn't a big piece; maybe he could just... eat the food off the hide-? He tried his hoof at this, teeth nibbling at the meaty bit.

"This is weird," he said, what little skin graced his face scrunching up in childlike confusion.

Then he looked back to the dead bat. Lior was looking for a stone, and Wicker, wondering the same now, flipped it with his nose. He examined it all over but couldn't see one. "Maybe these don't have them..?" he suggested, uncertain. "Or maybe it's inside?" A spark of inspiration struck him and he stepped back, holding still as he cast his magic out. White buzzing filled his mind, his eyes, and he slowly looked the dead bat over. "...I can see all the, um--the life in its body. The stuff leftover? And I don't see any spot where it's, uhh... missing. The way a stone would be," he went on. Maybe they really didn't have them! "Maybe that's why we can... speak and stuff, and they can't?" It was a decent theory, if wildly incorrect.

And at Lior's amazed 'we really defeated a monster,' Wicker glanced over with warmth. "Yeah!" he answered, his enthusiasm not quite comparable to Lior's--but he was very happy at how happy the alligator was!

He took the correction with fascination, his curiosity welling up--and it only grew at Lior's musings.

"Ummm," he began, and paused. One could just about hear the gears slowly grinding in his mind as his ghostlight eyes stared off at nothing and his tail absently swished behind him.

"-I don't know?" he went with, at last. He couldn't think of even the faintest theory, except... "...Maybe because we get bigger?" The suggestion was wavering though, heavily uncertain. Was a bigger physical body somehow a better reservoir for magic..? But where did it come from, in the first place?

He shrugged it off, shaking his head. "I don't know but my dads might!" he said at last. It was all he could really offer.

Wicker then eyed Lior again, adventurousness flooding back. "I could go ask them--I should probably go home, soon, anyway," he went on, realizing at last that he'd kind of vanished from home without warning. "You can come, if you want, but--if you don't wanna, we should meet again and hunt more monsters some time!" There was an enthusiasm in it, even as Wicker bent to try and tug a bat's claw free for himself. He wasn't sure what to do with it, aside from carry it about in his teeth, but... Hey, it was a cool souvenir, right?

Wicker hesitated, for a moment. He'd never really said goodbye to a new friend before and truth be told? He had no idea what the proper etiquette was. "I love you" briefly occurred to him but--no, that definitely didn't sound right?!

"Um--okay," he tried, visibly unsure. "I want to," was a hasty reassurance, lest he seem too hesitant. "The caves are big but--I hope we can find each other again." He offered Lior a brief nudge, a sort of affectionate goodbye, and then picked up the little trophy he'd pulled free.

A final glance to the bat--another faint sense of awe at what they'd done, at what his magic had done (horrible, but cool) and he was backing away a little, dipping his head again in goodbye.

"Stay safe, Lior," and that sounded--better, almost like a proper goodbye, despite the claw held in his teeth.

Then he was trotting off, pausing unsteadily to glance back once or twice--just in case he'd done "goodbye" wrong.