The old man continued patiently.
He repeated the same actions again and again, pointing at objects, speaking their sounds, and waiting for the boy to imitate them. Sometimes the boy would say the word correctly, sometimes the sound came out distorted, but the old man never seemed frustrated.
Instead, he laughed often.
Whenever the boy copied a word properly, the old man's eyes lit up with clear excitement.
After a while, the old man reached into his robe and pulled out a bundle of folded cloth. The boy watched with curiosity as the man unfolded it. The fabric was soft and light, dyed in simple shades of brown and gray.
The boy had never worn anything before.
The old man held the cloth up and pointed at it.
"Clothes."
He then pointed at the boy's body.
"Body."
Slowly, the old man demonstrated how to wear them. He wrapped one piece around the boy's waist, tied it firmly, then helped him push his arms through another piece of cloth that covered his upper body.
The boy moved awkwardly at first.
The sensation was strange. The fabric brushed against his skin every time he moved, something he had never experienced before. For a moment he tried pulling it off again, but the old man stopped him gently.
"Cold. Protection."
The old man pointed toward the wind that moved across the lake.
"Cold."
Then he pointed toward the rough ground and sharp rocks scattered around the island.
"Protection."
The boy looked down at the clothes again.
He did not fully understand yet, but he allowed them to remain on his body.
The lessons continued.
Hour after hour the old man introduced new words.
Stone.
Tree.
Sky.
Water.
Bird.
Man.
Sometimes the boy repeated the sounds immediately. Other times he stared silently, trying to connect the sounds to the objects around him.
His mind absorbed everything with intense focus.
For the first time in years, his thoughts were not filled with hunger or survival. The strange sounds, the patterns behind them, the meanings hidden inside them… they completely occupied his attention.
Even hunger seemed to fade into the background.
The old man noticed this.
Every so often he would stop the lessons and offer the boy something to eat or drink. They rested for short periods before beginning again.
Days passed like this.
Each day the boy understood a little more.
Words slowly began connecting to each other. Sounds turned into meaning. Meaning turned into thought.
The strange noises the old man made were no longer random.
They were language.
Finally, after several days of constant learning, the boy managed something new.
He spoke a full sentence.
He looked directly at the old man and asked slowly,
"What… are you?"
The words came out rough, but the meaning was clear.
For a moment the old man simply stared at him.
Then his face lit up with pure joy.
He laughed loudly, clearly delighted by the question.
"I am Arnis," the old man replied, placing a hand on his chest.
The boy tilted his head slightly.
"What… is Arnis?"
The old man smiled again.
"Name," he said.
He pointed at himself.
"Arnis. Name."
He picked up a stone and held it out.
"Stone."
Then he pointed to himself again.
"Arnis."
"A way to tell what something or someone is."
The boy stood quietly, thinking about this new concept.
Then he looked down at himself.
"What… is my name?"
The question caught the old man off guard.
For the first time since they had met, Arnis did not immediately respond.
He studied the boy carefully.
The strange child who had appeared beyond the broken barrier… the one whose body rejected even the flow of energy he had tried to send into him.
The boy who had survived alone for years.
After a moment of thought, the old man finally spoke.
"You have no name."
The boy remained silent.
Names were a way to identify things. That was what Arnis had just explained.
If he had no name… then what was he?
The old man continued gently.
"But if you are willing… I can give you one."
The boy looked at him.
"What is it?"
Arnis smiled faintly.
"Reige."
The sound lingered softly in the air between them.
"A name for you."
For the first time in his life, the boy now had something he had never possessed before.
An identity.
A name.