Bear The Weight

Spirit Animals, Episode 2

In the foothills of Mount Kovina, Zan hid among the branches of an oak as a band of men passed by beneath.

The tree bark was uncomfortable, but he would be alone until Vara and Noro returned with food. I could take them, the boy told himself, they don't even know I'm here. As the men continued lumbering by, kicking at their hounds, Zan imagined different scenarios and angles of attack. They wore the same colors and leather as Commander Skapi's herd. Even if I don't attack, I could still follow them back to Ravos.

One of the hounds paused for a moment and looked up toward the boy, sniffing. Zan could feel his heart race when one of their leaders took notice. “What do you smell?” the man asked, momentarily looking around.

“Faster!” another one toward the front shouted. “Keep your hounds at pace and your eyes open for bears. The King said bears!”

The first man kicked at the hind end of his dog, causing it to squeal and reluctantly carry on. “I ain't seen no sign of cub or mother! Might be we got rotten information!”

As the pack continued, the boy could still hear their bickering over the sound of barking dogs. “One Bound cub could sustain our company for months!” another one was saying, and the rest bled together as they got further away.

Zan bit his lip, hands shaking from the urge to leap out of the tree. I can take them, he insisted. I can sneak up from behind and free that poor hound. The boy felt his heart wrench as the memory of them returned. How long could anyone put up with that?

Before they disappeared over the next bend in the road, Zan sprang from the tree and ducked behind the trunk of a young ash. He glanced out and could still see the rear guard, the man's half cape swirling in his wake. When the cloth momentarily calmed, Zan finally got a clear view of their pack sigil. It was a mark unfamiliar to the boy, but he knew what it meant. This isn't Skapi's herd, he thought, biting his lip again.

The discovery put out Zan's fire, and he retreated back to his place in the canopy of the trees.

He decided to focus on his mission; this unyielding sense of urgency he felt in his chest, as much as it pained him imagining the hounds' mistreatment. There's no time—none, he thought. Every day and every second passed is that much further they get away with Ravos. His urge to act battled against his need to wait for Vara and Noro to return with lunch for the better part of an hour, and he felt helpless. I'm lost. The thoughts came unbidden. I'm lost in the darkness, frozen here against my will.

Eventually, Zan felt Vara was close, and it brought him out of his brooding.

The tiny hairs on his arms stood on end, reaching out with a wave of relief throughout his entire body. His stomach tightened, the sound it made echoing through the trees. I can't wait anymore, he vowed, scrambling among the branches. The sound of Noro's laughter rang out, a foreign song among the wooded foothills of Mount Kovina. In his haste, the boy missed his grip on one of the branches and the rest of his descent from the tree resulted in his face smashing against the trunk as he landed.

Still recovering, the blow to the head took a heavier toll than normal and made Zan lightheaded. I still haven't fully recovered from my encounter with Skapi, he realized. It was hard to stand, but he eventually found a way by leaning against the tree. His stomach churned as headache nausea set in, and he could hear Noro laughing again.

“Did you fall out of that tree just now?” the Orc asked, nearly choking on his words. He pointed. “I could hear your stomach growling from all the way back there!” When the boy did not respond and only rubbed at his eyes, Noro caught on to what was going on and called out, “Vara! Hurry!”

Moments later, there was a shadowy blur, and the wolf appeared before them. She bounded over to Zan and licked sweat from the fringes of his face. The boy groaned, then opened his eyes, Vara still licking. “It's okay, Girl. I'm just hungry is all.” He rubbed at his stomach as it let out another mighty roar, then his eyes again. “I feel strange, though.”

“Probably that knock to the head Skapi gave you,” Noro put in. “After a blow like that, One's sure to be soft-headed for a time. I saw it happen to a cousin of mine, err... what was his name again?” Nin poked his head out from Noro's tunic and gave Zan an exasperated look. “Doesn't matter!” the Orc finally declared. “Either way, he was never quite the same after that. A stiff wind could send him to sleep at a moment's notice.” He chuckled, pulling an apple from a full sack he had slung over his shoulder. No, two apples, Zan realized as Noro handed one over to him. “Folks called him the fainting goat!” the Orc burst into laughter again, nearly inhaling chunks of his apple.

When Zan bit into the firm, red fruit, juice bubbled up and ran off the end of his chin. A crisp snap echoed out every time his teeth returned to it, gushing out a fresh river of sweet liquid. Before long, the apple was gone, core and all, and the boy could barely remember how it tasted. It's never enough, he thought, sighing.

He ate seven apples in all before the sun began to fall, and it seemed to balance the boy out enough to continue right away. He was still hungry, however. Nothing felt the same since he had put himself off meat. Even at times when his stomach got the best of him and he considered breaking into an ant colony or raiding a beehive for its honey, his guilt put a quick end to that nonsense. The truth was he just felt weaker, though he would never admit it to himself at that moment. A life beside Vara had made Zan used to a certain extra layer to his diet. He always felt hungry, he realized, even then. But this perpetual empty feeling in his stomach now only made him more anxious to find Ravos. Hungry for it.

The foothills of Kovina were called the Senka Hills, Noro told him as they continued along. One of the few places left untouched on the fringes of the Warring Trinity. “But not for long,” he continued. “The Battlefield? That No Man's Land, as you call it?” The Orc's tusks danced as he spoke, but he was frowning. “That is just how far the disease has spread. In their search for ore and dominance, the Trinity War pushes them further and further still to more resource rich regions.”

Zan frowned, watching the landscape spread out before them as they crested the top of a hill. “And when they find places like this, they look for people like us,” the boy wistfully said. Colorful pockets of dense trees with rivulets and natural paths spiderwebbing their way over and around countless waning hilltops. Dark clouds of birds swirled together in the wind with their colorful kin, dancing to music that only they could hear. Zan's eyes watered too much before he could take anymore of the details in, but even as he wiped his tears away he couldn't help but notice how different the air smelled here.

Thicker, the further they went, and saltier.

“Aye,” Noro continued, interrupting Zan's thoughts. “And, it's more like they look for the creatures who live in places like this.” A cynical smile tightened across Noro's face. “There's plenty of us waiting back home. Plenty of people who would give anything for a chance to Bond with a strong animal—or at all.” Noro's words unsettled the boy, but it only manifested as anger. “There's a saying among all races in the Warring Trinity; ore or boar—both buy a man's life. That kind of incentive is enough to make people migrate, set fire to their neighbor's home, steal from family, forsake all previous oaths, and even kill the innocent.” Noro paused to clear his throat, still frowning. “Entire nations clash because of it.”

Zan spat, feeling heat radiating off his red, scrunched up face. He said nothing, but was suddenly more thankful for those apples. After a few minutes, the boy broke the silence. “We need to find Ravos. We should travel through the night and rest at midday.”

“Why such haste, Little Brother?”

The boy's nose scrunched up. “I saw a pack of men pass through. They had dogs.” The memory of the man's boot striking one the dogs flashed in his mind. “They weren't Commander Skapi's herd, but I know she's close.”

Noro sighed. “And what if we do travel through the night and find them? We'll be exhausted, and are already in no fit condition to re-challenge someone as in-tune as her.” The Orc's face relaxed, and his eyes became sympathetic. “You need rest... I swore to protect you.”

Zan's expression suddenly went feral, causing Vara to growl menacingly. “I need to find him.”

The Orc tried to rub his anxiety out through his eyes, but it didn't seem to be helping. “Okay,” he finally said. “We travel through the night then, Little Brother.”

By early twilight, they came to a fork in the path.

Each one led in completely different directions, and they were too far into Senka to discern the correct choice on a whim. The trees were taller here; the hills, smaller. It didn't seem like either path would take them anywhere, but Zan knew he couldn't risk getting lost. I swear she's close, the boy thought, I can feel it. He searched for any sign of which direction to take—an elevation change, a scent, a difference in the trees, but it was all in vain. Darkness crept in like a fog, blanketing the world. The only respite were the countless twinkling stars and the pale moon watching from behind the horizon.

Noro let out a tired sigh. “It seems we've reached a denser part of Senka,” he relented. “It... it all looks the same, Little Brother.” The Orc collapsed onto the ground and stretched out wide, his dense bones popping at the joints. When he yawned, it came off more as a low roar. Even for a smaller Orc, Noro was still an Orc.

Zan didn't hesitate scaling a mourning, old willow to discern any sense of direction. Noro spoke almost prophetically. This region of the foothills seemed nearly impenetrable to the boy, and the paths were swallowed up almost instantly from what he could make out in the fading light. His entire life was spent in Hemdom, and here he was just beyond the towering volcano he had grown so familiar with, more lost than he'd ever been. The entire prospect frustrated him when he thought of how easy it was to navigate his home—by smell alone sometimes. He continued to scan the horizon, but the silhouettes made his eyes hurt to focus on, and his mind drifted back to other times. Distant memories, too dark and too painful to navigate, much like the terrain he was surrounded by.

“Pointless,” Zan cursed. “There's no time for this!” He felt his face flush again and gritted his teeth. Frustration gave way to a deep, profound anger. It might've frightened him if he weren't so upset. He didn't understand why he felt this way so suddenly, which only served to irritate him further; why his hands had begun to shake, weakening their grip on the tree; why his vision blurred and his cheeks were wet with tears now; or why he had this aching, empty feeling in his heart like it was already too late.

Three lonely tears fell from the branches of the mourning willow, then the boy heard music off in the distance.

“Noro!” Zan sniffed, wiping his face and scrambling out of the tree. “Noro! Something is coming!” He could see foliage and branches parting, a flock of birds fleeing in the wake of whatever was approaching.

Nin head poked out of the scruff of Noro's tunic, his ears bowing with fear. “Quick!” the Orc insisted, “off the path! Off the path!”

Zan took a second glance at the fork in the road and grimaced. “Lets just go.” Vara growled and followed as the boy continued on. “I choose this one! The right path!” It must be right, he told himself.

The sound of something large ripping its way through branches intensified, and a panicked look swept across Noro's face. “We should just get off the path! Think this through!”

Zan shot an abrupt, fierce look at him. “I have been thinking this through, and I choose right!”

They heard the branches moan and crack as whatever approached grew louder. Heavy, hoofed footfalls rose up rhythmically beneath it all, and Zan could even begin to feel it through the ground.

Noro made no attempt to follow, letting out a heavy sigh. “It's too late now, Little Brother.”

A dark fire flared up inside Zan's chest, and he felt the blood rush to his face again. For the first time since they had met, he was truly angry at Noro. “Winter's Mark!” the boy cursed at him, mockingly.

Noro's eyes softened, as if Zan's words had truly battered him, and he retreated into Nin's comfort when the rabbit poked his head out again. Music filled the air—the sound of a man singing. A towering shape appeared up the path, widening it and leaving a trail of broken branches behind as it trotted along. Two giant, curving horns pushed aside the trees as if they weren't there. An enormous ibex, or ram, or perhaps goat, made its way toward them with little regard. It was so large, and unlike any animal of its type Zan had ever seen. Its jaw was more angular, its eyes more feral.

An elderly, cloaked man sat atop an ornate saddle atop the creature's back ten feet in the air smoking a rolled up leaf and singing. A wide brim hat sat quivering atop his head with each footfall of his mount. Two gnarled horns spread out from the animal's head to extend an already towering presence, curving ahead in an arc. A number of objects hung from the animal, mostly satchels and a lantern, but the cloaked man continued to sing and tap away at the great horns of his mount with a thin stick in his offhand as plumes of smoke danced around him.

“Quick,” Zan whispered, “behind the trees!”

They disappeared behind a pair of trunks just as light from the man's lantern reached out to touch them, and his voice rose higher. “With breath 'n a will the song'll take flight, but ne'er 'til the moment's right. Each note waitin' for it's time to unfold. That instant 'o warmth surrounded by cold.”

Zan noticed his mount's pace slow, but the man's voice still went strong. The depth of his age was ever-present in every note he sang. Amazing, the boy thought.

“Under the sky where legends lie,” the man continued, “'n Time's embrace sings to the rhythm 'o Life. Even 'n castles, where kings gather might.”

The man paused, and it was then that Zan realized he had come to a complete stop. He tried to focus his eyes past his lantern light, on him, then realized the man was already looking in his direction. His heart surged and he ducked back behind the trunk as quickly as he could. He didn't see me, the boy told himself.

The man took a large drag from the smoldering rolled leaf hanging crookedly from his cracked lips, exhaling a yellow cloud of smoke through his nostrils and beard as he continued to sing. “They can never conquer the Kingdom 'o Time.” He climbed down from his mount and patted it gently on the side of its face, curling gray spear of ash still hanging from the remains of his smoldering smokeleaf. He sang quieter now, more to his companion. “When the misty moors whisper 'o war, It's a song that I've heard too many times 'ere before.” The man paused again, then produced a large, dry leaf from one of his hanging satchels and began preparing another smoke. “Ye can come out, Kid. No point 'n hidin'.” His lungs gurgled quietly as he spoke, sending him into a coughing fit. A moment later, he spat and continued, “Bring the Orc, too, its been a while.” Then he continued to sing to his mount. “They, 'n their haste to shed blood 'n shed tears. I, as I wait for the storm to be clear.”

“Seems nice enough,” Zan whispered, already exiting their hiding place.

Noro let out a small shriek. “Wait,” he begged, “wait!” But it was too late. Vara appeared moments later like Zan's eternal shadow, but she did not growl.

When the man saw the wolf, he didn't look surprised. “There's a few more lines to that'n, but I'll spare ye my singin'.” Vara approached him first, sniffing curiously. The man tucked his new smoke leaf into a strap on his hat and knelt down to great her with a smile. She licked at his hands, sniffed, then sneezed before retreating back to the boy. “Beautiful wolf, Kid. Make sure ye keep 'er close for as long as ye both 're Bound. Its 'er job to protect ye as much as ye to protect 'er. Ye ken?”

Zan's blinked his round, golden eyes twice and said nothing. Noro appeared then, protectively petting Nin as the rabbit poked his head out. “We're lost,” the Orc confessed.

The boy's face went red and a he unconsciously tightened up to make himself look bigger. “Noro you—um,” then he turned to the stranger. “Thank you for the compliment, old one.” Zan slumped down onto the ground and sighed. “Have you seen any crazy metal ladies with a white lion? Oh! Or maybe a grouchy, green lizard-man?” He perked up, beginning to to ramble on. “I know! You'd know for sure by the lion's bright red eyes. She has an entire herd of Humans following her around! Ravos isn't so bad, I think he's just lonely.”

The man paced to the backside of his mount as the boy stammered on, plucking the smokeleaf from his hat to hold to the flame of his lantern. “Call me Durim, Kid.” Smoke pooled into the air around the stranger's face as he blew on the smoldering tip of the leaf, then slid it between his lips. “This 'ol goat is Guld. He don't bite 'ard.” The ibex snorted, as if to disagree.

Noro approached the beastly ram, one hand outstretched and the other protectively covering Nin. “Guld,” the Orc whispered. “You're not so bad, are you?” Guld snorted again and recoiled at first, then relented and found a few berries when he went to sniff at Noro's palm.

A yellow plume of smoke engulfed the lantern, eclipsing them all in shadow. “He likes ye, Winterlander,” Durim said, his warm voice carrying in the cooling evening air. As the smoke cleared, the old man's crooked smile was the first thing they saw. “Bit far South for yer kind, wouldn't ye agree? Must be hot.”

Noro sighed. “Aye, but I have a distaste for war. It seems that has given my kin a distaste for me.” The Orc looked down at his rabbit companion momentarily, then smiled. “This one is Nin, my own Bound companion.” The rabbit made a purring sound, then a series of tiny grunts.

Zan pet Vara with increasingly more rapid strokes, unconsciously tapping his foot. He could feel a low growl as he pet her, but she made no sound. “You seem like you know a lot of stuff. Do you know which way a bunch of Humans would take a Bound lizard-man?”

When Durim's smokeleaf flared up, Zan caught a glimpse of his tired, green eyes watching from beneath the wide brim of his hat—then darkness as the ember receded. “Where'd ye come upon that'n, then?” the stranger asked Noro. Zan prepared to answer for him, but Durim gestured toward the Orc with his smokeleaf and cut him off. “Yer rabbit, Nin.”

Noro gave the boy a reluctant look, then shrugged. “A particularly harsh winter, about five seasons past. My kin begged me to use him for stew, but I couldn't.” The Orc's voice began to shake, but he maintained control and cleared his throat. “When they came for him, I wouldn't allow it. Some people got hurt. They made us join the legion, and we eventually escaped when the opportunity arose.”

The ember at the tip of Durim's smokeleaf sizzled as he drew in a fresh lungful; curling into cooling, gnarled ashes. “A heroic tale, Sir Orc.” He fumbled through the many bags hanging from his mount, searching. “We drink,” the stranger insisted, doubtless.

Noro smiled and nodded, finally relaxing to the entire situation. “Aye.”

Zan's face flushed as red as a cherry. We don't have time for this, he bitterly thought. “Old one, we must be—”

“Guld found me shiverin' 'n shakin' at the foot 'o this 'ere mountain,” Durim interrupted, handing Noro a small wooden cup. “Truth is, I'm more his Bond than he is mine.” Noro chuckled at that. “Hail, to Bonds that allow us to carry on!”

“Hail!” Noro echoed, and they clapped their cups together before draining them.

Zan took a step forward. “You seem really nice, old one, but—”

The boy was interrupted by a wooden mug the size of his head being pushed into his chest. “I didn't forget 'bout ye, Kid,” Durim chuckled. “Drink.”

When Zan sniffed at the contents of the mug, it sang of a welcoming sweetness. A warmth that made his mouth water, beckoning him to dig in. “It's... just,” the boy began, then surrendered to the sweet contents of the smokey mug Durim had handed him. It refreshed him, like his body was taking back everything it had been missing after their hard march through the foothills.

“What led you to the base of the mountain?” Noro chimed in. “That day, when Guld found you.”

Durim's eyes found Zan's again. “I... lost—” he began, whispering, then cut himself off and retreated to Guld for another smokeleaf. Zan chugged the sweet liquid loudly, unable to help himself, purple contents spilling from the corners of his mouth. “Life 'as a way 'o stranding us on islands 'o despair. Sometimes we need someone to sail us to freedom.” He scratched Guld behind the ear, causing the ram to coo lovingly. Zan saw Durim steal another glance at him as he finished the last drops of his mug. “I was lost... 'n Guld found me.”

Noro approached the old man and held out his empty cup. “A harrowing tale!” he said, smiling. “We drink.” Durim laughed and refilled both their cups from the contents of a brown, glass jug.

“Enough of this!” Zan barked, Vara audibly growling now. “We are looking for our friend, Ravos. Please, even if you just know the direction you last saw any Humans, it might help him!”
Durim finished the contents of his cup and drew in a long drag from his smokeleaf, causing the ember to flare up and expose those tired, green eyes of his—watching the boy. “'Tis true. We're all searchin' for somethin', Kid. Sometimes, 'tis best to let the wind take us 'n hope we find it.”

Zan stomped a foot, then his mug was airborne. Durim did not move to avoid it, but Guld promptly shifted his enormous head so that one of his massive, barbed horns blocked the shot. The mug turned uselessly against the ibex, and it snorted defiantly as it narrowed its eyes at the boy. “All the time we waste drinking and talking—”

“'Tis the only time we 'ave to get to know each other 'round a fire,” Durim interjected, approaching. “Take a moment, Kid. Take what the world offers to ye, freely.” He handed him a fresh mug filled with more of the delicious, thick liquid as Vara continued to growl. He refused at first, then relented when he saw those tired green eyes again. “Smell strange trees. Taste new fruit.” He smiled as Zan continued to drink. “Befriend a stranger.”

Zan stopped himself from drinking this time, wiping the nectar from his lips. “I can't, friend. Ravos needs my help, and there's no time to spare. I like you, though.” He smiled and gestured to Durim's monstrous ibex. “I like your big goat, too.”

Guld huffed disapprovingly, shaking his head in annoyance before continuing to chew at his grass dinner.

Noro waved his cup again, and Durim signaled him to help himself to the brown jug hanging from his saddle. The Orc looked like he was dizzy or something, and Zan noticed his sallow complexion had pinkened around his flat nose and broad cheeks. “Hail to the generous stranger, Durim! Who bears companionship and good drink!” He drained his cup again.

Durim cleared his throat, refilling his own cup. “I know these hills like the back 'o my hand, but there's naught we can do under a blanket of darkness. Let us make camp 'n clear our minds in good company, 'n I'll help ye best I can 'n the mornin' eh?”

The boy eyed his mug suspiciously. The drink has made Noro into a fool, it seems, he thought, noticing the sudden slur in the Orc's speech. Whatever Durim gave Zan was different, he noticed. He could easily smell it. He didn't feel any more stupid or off-balance, only incredibly refreshed. Zan could feel Vara was picking up on his anxiety, also, which usually meant he could trust Durim. I... know him, he found himself thinking, over and over. “Lets make camp, then,” he finally forced himself to say. If he tries anything, Vara will put him to sleep and we'll continue.

“Yes!” Noro belched, laughing as Nin surged across the ibex's massive horns in a chaotic loop. Guld barely seemed to notice—that or he truly didn't care.

A slow smile spread out beneath the wide brim of old wanderer's cap. “Ye never regret being patient, Kid. Much like the dark, sometimes 'tis best to wait for the sun to shine 'n reveal the right path to take.”

Zan grumbled at that, remembering the dogs, cages, fighting pit, and remains of his home. What was left of their den flashed in his mind, burnt stumps jutting up around the cave opening to resemble a gaping, screaming monstrosity. Then, the skeletal remains of the men he had bound to the ash tree before the fire invaded. The man just kept screaming, but no sound came out. The hollows of his eyes somehow found the boy, watching. Ravos rose up behind him, shivering and bound by a collar around his neck.

“Kid?” Durim interrupted, snapping Zan out of it. “Ye still with us, little lad?” He chuckled nervously when the boy did not answer. “Ya look like the dead just stood up 'n started dancin' 'round us!”

Liquid erupted from Noro's nostrils as he burst into laughter, but quickly began choking. “Sorry,” he wheezed.

The boy sighed. “I can't help but think of... Ravos... and all the things I've already messed up.” Zan sniffed, then sat down around a growing pile of twigs and sticks intended for a fire. “What are they doing to him right now? Why do they even want Bonders so bad?”

Ravos' face flashed in Zan's mind. “Boy,” the Reptilian had said. “Run.”

Zan continued before anyone could notice. “Ravos didn't even have a companion, so why would they take him?”

“He did,” Noro chimed in, slurring, then dropped an armful of broken branches onto the woodpile.

“What kind?” Zan was suddenly intrigued and couldn't help himself. “I imagine him with a giant crocodile... wading through the shallows of his swamp as Humans march by.” He didn't intend to make it sound so dramatic, but here he was. Durim chuckled, stuffing fresh tinder between the branches and sticks of the fire-pit.

“No, I never knew him when he was whole,” the Orc confessed. “But I feel like he is more the mammoth type!” Noro made the gesture of a trunk to underscore his point.

“How do we even know he's Bound, then?” Zan asked, somehow already knowing the answer deep down.

Durim walked over to the cold woodpile, brandishing his lantern. “Ye can feel it, Kid.” He lit the end of his smokeleaf and held the tiny flame to some of the tinder at the base of the fire. “Once Bound, Evyntir will ne'er leave ye. 'Tis 'n ever burnin' fire 'n one's heart.” As if the wanderer had called it, the fire answered, whooshing up in a sudden blaze. The shadows of the Senka foothills bowed and retreated in the presence of the light—those cast off the Bound and their companions remained, however, and stood as tall and stark as ever.

A sick feeling came over the boy just then, imagining scenario after grim scenario that would explain what might have happened to Ravos' companion. “Maybe his companion just got... old?” he tried to convince himself.

“Unlikely,” said Noro as he scooted closer to the fire and sipped at his cup. “Bonds are for life, your life.” He sipped again, this time slower. “He could've Bound with a fly... the thing would never stop growing and still be with him when he gets old.” Nin poked up from behind the Orc's head, nuzzling into his coarse hair. He smiled. “Though, how fast they grow seems to be different for everyone.”

Durim produced a satchel of hard nuts and acorns, unrolling a bundle of large, thick leaves beside it. “Aye, 'at much is truish.” He handed Noro a leaf with a small pile atop it, and the Orc graciously accepted. “'Tis a pact as old as you 'n the world, deep as the soul itself.”

The old man's words gave the boy goosebumps as he accepted his own leaf with acorns and nuts. It's the same thing Ravos had said, Zan thought. The information made him happy, knowing Vara would always be with him. His stomach growled as he looked down at his meager dinner, then dug into a bitter acorn. His face tightened up and his body viscerally reacted to the taste, then he spat and placed it back onto the leaf. His stomach growled again, and this time he went for a strange nut. Instant regret sank in when he thought one of his teeth might break on the shell.

Durim chuckled as he watched Zan struggle, then finished wrapping his pile of shells into his leaf and stuffed it all down into the embers of the campfire. Noro did the same. “If ye can just contain yerself long enough for the shells to soften, Kid. You'll be happier for it, 'n skip the stomachache.”

Zan snorted and went for another nut. It put up a mighty battle, but eventually the boy wrung the shell loose with his teeth and tongue and swallowed down the morsel within. It tasted terrible, but he spat the shell triumphantly regardless, and rubbed at his jaw. It wasn't worth it, he couldn't help but think, but refused to make that apparent.

Durim took a sip from his cup, sighing. “Listen, Kid. The stone catches fish as the river surges 'round, 'n as the wolf barks from the shoreline, it wonders how.”

“I've seen birds skewer a fish before,” Zan shot back, “never a rock.” He bit down onto another nut, but when it didn't give, he surrendered and set the leaf aside. A sudden smirk from the old man told the boy he failed to hide his dismay this time around.

Both Durim and his great ibex companion snorted, almost in unison. “Bears then? 'ow 'bout 'em?”

Noro suddenly shot up, saluting. “Aye, bears it is! The mightiest of Winter's children!” His slurring had only gotten worse as they waited for their food to cook.

Durim rose as well, intoxicated by Noro's excitement. “They stand like a stone 'n the river, 'n the fish jump into their mouths, ye ken?”

“Aye, even the fish know who the mightiest alive is!” Noro raised his cup, then emptied it down his gullet.

Zan blinked at him. “The fish jump into their mouths? But... they'll die?” He grumbled, glancing down at the leaf as he considered challenging another shell. “Why?” he whispered.

Durim laughed, and the wrinkles around his eyes grew harsher. “The red fish leap from the river upstream to find the one they love, Boy. They can't avoid the bear, who 'as become keen to their patterns. She's hungry, determined... undeniable.”

Noro broke out into a sudden sob, his deep voice carrying. “It's so sad and beautiful, don't you think? The red fish will blindly leap into the jaws of a bear in search of the one they love!” His wailing intensified.

“Seems stupid to me,” Zan scoffed.

Durim laughed again. “Aye, 'tis. 'N the bear knows it!” He lit up a fresh smokeleaf, then continued. “The bear follows 'er instincts, 'n they lead 'er to the river. Something tells 'er to come to this place, 'n she listens, ye ken? She listens, Boy.”

“Instincts,” the boy mused.

“More importantly,” Durim cut in, “the bear patiently waits knowin' she 'as the foolish fish. She knows 'tis but one place they seek, 'n they must follow the river to reach such a place.”

Noro was still shouting about the misguided fish, but Zan tuned the Orc out. He knew more about instincts than he did patience, he realized, and stole another glance at the indomitable nuts forsaking him of his dinner. Might be this man is insane, he thought, but his crazy is starting to make sense to me. He found Guld staring at him from across the camp, chewing apathetically. The goat loves him, I can feel it. Maybe I should just—

His thoughts were interrupted by Vara licking the side of his face and whining.

“Ope, ope, ope!” Durim involuntarily said as he pulled a smoldering husk from the fire. A proud smile stretched out across his face. “Spicy one!” As he peeled back the dry, blackened leaves, a nutty aroma filled the air and caused Zan's mouth the gush saliva. He lifted one of the steaming morsels between his fingers and gave it a squeeze. “Perfect!”

Zan's stomach roared in protest. “Sorry,” he sheepishly said.

Durim pushed his dinner husk toward the boy, then took the fresh one and began wrapping it. “Yer fine. Eat 'at one, I'll be 'wake a while yet.” He stretched out wide with that smile still on his face, like he was happy to do it. “Ye best get some sleep, Kid. We'll get ye pointed in the right direction, come the morrow.”

Zan's eyes watered with gratitude. “Oh, thank you!”

“Errgh!” Noro cursed, as he pulled his own husk from the embers, “Winter's Mark!” He licked at his singed fingers, digging in with his good hand.

The meal was everything Zan had hoped for, but not nearly as filling as he needed. By the time he was done, drowsiness had already begun to set in and it was all he could do to refill his cup one last time. So tired, he thought, unable to help but think of the taste of fresh fish and imagine how wonderful that might be right now. He relented, and curled up against Vara beside the fire. As the boy faded from consciousness, he drifted into his fish dreams and waited there in the river for a fat one

“Wake up, Kid. Time to go.”

Zan awoke to the fire-pit smoldering, Durim shoveling some dirt over the embers. Beams of morning light invaded his eyes, but after they adjusted he was able to stop squinting. He felt like a new person, completely refreshed for the most part. His still felt the toll of his duel with Skapi, but it was a great first step. He could even think clearer, and didn't hesitate to climb the tallest tree he could find to get a good look.

Like some prophetic, black beacon, a streak of greasy smoke rose up over the treetops off in the distance. “The left path,” Zan whispered to himself. The smoke had to be them, Zan knew it. People are the only ones who start fires.

When the boy returned to camp, Durim asked, “See somethin' ye like?”

“I did.” Zan shot back, retrieving some of his things from beside the fire. “Where's Noro?”

“Been wonderin' the same all mornin' Kid.” Durim's face soured, then he took to packing his own things onto Guld. “Looks like ye won't be needin' an old man's 'elp then.” He cleared his throat. “Already grown to a man after one night's sleep.” There was something bitter there, in Durim's words, Zan could taste it.

“You did help me, big guy.” Zan smiled wide when Durim's eyes found his. The man looked shaken. Zan stopped what he was doing. “Old one?”

Durim's eyes were watering, something the boy didn't anticipate would've effected him as much as it did. “No,” he grumbled, wiping at them and turning away. Guld licked at his cheek, just like Vara did for Zan.

Zan stood and tilted his head, confused. “What's wrong?”

The old wanderer sniffed, then scratched Guld behind the ear as the warm smile returned to his face. “I... am sorry, Kid. I just didn't 'spect ye to remind me 'o someone, is all.”

“Who?”

Durim locked eyes with him, still patting Guld lovingly. “Someone... close.” His eyes moistened again, but he never stopped smiling. “Before war, before old age... before this old goat 'ere.” He chuckled and scratched Guld again. “I'll tell ye next time we meet, Kid.”

Zan smiled and wrapped his arms around Durim before he could turn to face him. “And I'll tell you all about my adventures!”

The boy felt Durim tighten up for a moment, then one of the elder's hands closed over the boy's. “Thank ye,” he whispered, sniffling.

The two continued to pack their things until they found themselves waiting for a sign from Noro. Just when Zan was growing anxious, the Orc emerged from the trees with two large sacks on his shoulders. “Ho! Did you wait for me? How sweet!” He stomped over to Guld, Nin trailing triumphantly behind him.

“Aye, what's all this?” Durim asked.

“Little way to say thank you, Friend.” Noro smiled and laid the sack across Guld's saddle. “Couldn't sleep until I found some way to repay you.” When Durim inspected the contents, he found it filled with all manner of acorns and wild nuts. “That should set you right for the journey.” He pat the second sack draped over his shoulder with a smile. “Even got a few more berries for the boy. An old trick Nin can do—he loves food!”

The gesture made Zan endlessly grateful for his Orc companion, but his mind never left the prospect of finding Ravos. “The left path leads to more people off in the distance, I bet it's more of Commander Skapi's herd!”

Noro and Durim both chuckled and exchanged looks. “Well,” the old wanderer said, tipping the wide brim of his hat, “best be off then, Kid.” He smiled. “I 'ave a good feelin' 'bout the right path, meself.” He climbed atop his monstrous ibex and began trotting down the road, Guld's horns continuing to prune down any stray branches brave enough to reach out toward them. Durim continued singing that strange song of his as he drifted away. “The bear always takes when the red fish arise, 'n the wolf who can't wait will soon wither 'n die. Reluctant ravens sing, cunnin' crows rejoice—they have full bellies 'n the wolf made his choice.”

Zan didn't move at first, watching the pair shrink away into the forest as Durim continued to sing. He pulled Vara in close and nuzzled her. “We're so close, I can feel it.”

“You don't plan on leaving me here, do you?” asked Noro, only half joking.

“Find them,” Zan continued, ignoring the Orc. Vara reacted to the boy's words by planting her feet and growling, then surged forward down the left path and out of sight. “No,” Zan said, looking at Noro side-eyed. “But we'll need to try and keep up I think!”

Laughing, Zan and Noro charged down the road behind Vara. They traveled for hours, only stopping for a handful of berries or a drink of water. Running gave way to jogging, which gave way to walking and ultimately good travel conversation. The forest became a footnote in their journey when they finally discovered the clear tracks of the man-pack. The boy didn't feel as anxious about finding Ravos as he did the day prior, but he still felt a sense of urgency all the same. Instead of getting angry when his mind went to the captive green Reptilian, he decided to talk.

Zan spat out the pit of a berry and wiped red juice from his lips. “So, Ravos is Bound but doesn't have a companion, right?”

“Right,” Noro shot back, mouth full.

“Can he Bond again?”

Noro considered for a long minute, chewing and eventually swallowing as he scratched at the stubble beneath one of his tusks. He stopped walking, looking longingly to the horizon. “I've no idea,” he eventually admitted with a tusky smile.

The boy felt anger flash for a moment, then he couldn't help but laugh. “I'm serious, I couldn't imagine growing up with anyone but Vara.”

“Well,” the Orc started as he continued to walk. “I don't see why not... though, I imagine it would be like finding a piece of yourself you never realized was there before.” He smiled and scratched Nin gently when the rabbit poked his head out. “Like... a third ear—no, a second nose!”

The boy chuckled, then sighed. “I suppose it's like losing a piece of you as well.”

The Orc caught Zan's glance with his own, then made a face. “Can't imagine life without my nose.”

Zan sighed again. “I can't imagine life without Vara.” They hadn't seen her since she ran off ahead to scout, but that was no longer needed since they discovered the physical trail of the pack. I hope she's okay, Zan couldn't help but think, soon exiling the thought.

“Aye, try to imagine two Varas, then.” Noro smiled and clapped the boy lovingly on the back of one shoulder, but it was a bit rougher than expected. “I won't let anyone near you, Little Brother, especially after how fiercely you fight to find Ravos.” The Orc choked up for a moment. “A... stranger. And so you can count me as one. You have two wolves, boy.”

Zan burst into laughter. “I... I'm sorry.” Noro flushed a color Zan didn't expect, which only made him laugh harder. “It's just... you were so scared when I met you.”

The Orc grew suddenly reserved, clearing his throat. “Not as scared as you might think.”

Zan could tell he was lying. “I think I'm your wolf, Noro. You're nice and that's one reason I like you.” Then a thought came to him. “Has anyone Bound twice? Not... again, but, twice?”

Noro stuffed a handful of berries into his mouth. “What, like two?” He swallowed painfully to clear his mouth. “Who do you think I am, Little Brother? I don't know.” The Orc paused, and Zan could see frustration building on his face.

“Bound?”

“Listen,” Noro cut him off, “I ran away. I'm not some... Bound warrior, able to recite the names and deeds of every great person who ever shared a spirit with the creatures of this world. I ran... I ran!”

When Noro stomped off ahead, Zan hung his head. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“Yeah, me too Little Brother. I wish I was the great Bonder you think I am, just so I could answer all your questions.” A smile spread out across Noro's face, but it faded as quickly as it came. “Zan, to me!”

The boy followed Noro's sudden, intense stare to its source—half a dozen men appearing from the brush behind him. Then, he saw his own cause for alarm as half a dozen more appeared ahead of them on the path, behind Noro. Run... run... run, Ravos' voice commanded in Zan's mind. Run... Run.

“Quickly Little Brother—”

“Run!” the boy commanded, pointing his spear at the nearest man. “Before it's too late.” The men only smiled and continued their advance. “Vara!” Zan called out, whistling. “Vara!” but there was no answer.

“Your little pet won't be helpin' you, Boy,” one man said.

They dog-piled Noro; they had to. Zan put up a valiant effort, but it was over as quick as it started when a surprise blow to he back of the head put him to sleep. He dreamed of darkness, a pair of blue moon eyes as the only source of light. Then, the pupils sharpened to a point—cat like.

All the boy could smell was smoke. He tasted blood, and he awoke shivering on the ground. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, scenes of Commander Skapi and her lion flashed before him. Those red eyes trailing in the chaos of it all, set against Leacia's stark fur, like blood on the snow. Ravos screamed somewhere far off, causing Zan to crane his head. Then, he realized it was only in his mind.

Soon, he remembered Vara. What have I done? he thought. A wide, flat tongue spread out across the boy's cheek and it was all he could do but laugh. “Vara!” He shot up, wrapping his arms around the source of the licking. It didn't take long to realize it wasn't his beloved wolf companion. Here, he found only the meager-by-comparison frame of a hound. Short, sleek hair clung matted and filthy to the frame that stood over him. Its skull and jaws were huge compared to the rest of it, but it only served to bulk out the creature's neck and body. A high-pitched whine came from it—higher than Vara's ever was—and the dog's golden-brown eyes found Zan's. “You're not Vara.” It gave off a smell as well. Not any typical animal scent, but one of grime and scum.

In response, the hound licked his face again.

“What's your name?” Zan found his eyes watering when he realized how safe he felt.

The dog whined again and froze there, eagerly drinking in Zan's eye contact.

The boy smiled. “Well?”

The grubby hound barked thrice, then leaped onto him, licking savagely as the boy struggled and laughed.

A round of mocking laughter echoed him somewhere beyond what Zan now realized was a pen filled with hounds. The others barked hungrily at the strange laughing voices and clawed at the thick log bars of the pen. Two of the men charged up and smashed at the side of the pen until all the dogs retreated back. One of them spit, satisfied. Zan stood there with a look he hoped would embody all the rage and fire he felt in his heart at that moment for these strangers. His little fists shook more, and more still the harder he clenched them.

“The boy seems a bit disappointed, wouldn't you say?” one of the voices asked.

A second voice responded. “No more big bad wolf to protect ye! Heh!”

“Nope!” the first one continued, “last thing we need is some... feral spoilin' our hunt.”

That's when Zan realized who they were. The men I saw before, he thought. The ones searching for bears. His face flushed red with anger, remembering how they treated the hounds he was now surrounded by. He could still hear them yelp if he thought about it long enough. Poachers.

Another of the men came into view, stained, crooked teeth bared into a smile. “What's wrong, Boy? Miss your pup?” Another round of laughter rang out. Zan ignored it.

“Well,” the second man chimed in, “if ye miss 'er, she's right over there!” He pointed.

Zan followed the man's finger to a shape shivering in the twilight. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw it was Vara, slumped and chained to a tree with thick ropes tight around her muzzle. “Vara!” he screamed out, launching himself at the confines of the dog pen. Only then did his body remember it's encounter with the armored woman and her lion, and he slumped down in pain. “Vara,” he continued, grunting. His tears finally broke, trailing down his cheeks unchecked. “Vara!”

The wolf hobbled to her feet, every black hair on her back reaching into the air. Her burning, blue eyes narrowed, and her growl swelled up through the ground as Vara began to pace. Bloody saliva ran in thick rivers from between the ropes binding her snout, and the wolf launched into a frenzy. She pulled at her chains over and over, to the point that Zan thought she might hurt herself. Snarling, she continued to rage as if some variable might change, plunging herself into the limits of her confines with full force. Then, the enormous wolf grew tired and collapsed.

A molten spike of anger drove itself deeper into the boy's chest. “Vara!” That time, his voice broke. Zan threw himself at the bars again, but this time was too much and he collapsed as well.

The men stopped laughing. “That's enough. I liked you better when you were sleepin'.”

“Yeah!” the second man said. “Want us to come in there and make you more... manageable?”

Zan scrunched up his face. Yes, he thought, but said nothing. I'm too weak right now. He locked eyes with man, making no attempt to hide his contempt. “Hungry,” was all he said, his new hound friend growling low beside him.

A third man spoke, and the others fell silent. “We'll put ye t'sleep, Pup.” His voice was a deep as a mountain. The man stood a head and a half taller than the others, and shuffled past them in heavy plated armor, making him seem all the mightier. He smashed a mailed fist against the bars of the pen, causing a severe dent in the metal and the other men to grimace. The blow didn't even seem to phase him. “Best behave, Pup.” His smile spread too wide across the man's pale, bald head as he slid a heavy black helm down over it. “Best behave.” The metal gave his already unsettling voice an otherworldly feel, and it shrieked as he locked it into place.

The helm was fashioned to resemble a wolf—no, a dog, Zan noted. The empty eye sockets came alive with deep, purple light after it was secure, causing streaks to glisten off the glossy, black surface of the man's armor. The remains of his cloak lay in black tatters over enormous thick shoulders. Spikes shot out in various places on the man's plate, and he carried no weapon.

He bent to one knee before Zan, and it was like a tree falling as his armor collided with the packed soil. Even kneeling, the man looked down at him like a ancient burnt oak. “Look at me.”

Zan scoffed. I already was, he thought.
“It's important for every pack to know who the Alpha is, Pup. Allow me to... introduce you.” Every time this black knight spoke, it gave Zan chills. “I am Lord Colitar, Houndmaster to King Ponos.”
One of the other men chimed in, laughing. “The Black Fist.”

The ground began to shake beneath the boy's feet, startling him at first. It swelled and caused goosebumps to trail up his arms. Lord Colitar rose to his feet, still looking down at the boy from behind that heavy wolf helm—from behind the purple glow of those sockets. Or… is he the light? He wondered, the Lord's strange power lost to him. A realization washed over Zan just then, one that made his blood run cold. The ground—growling?

Two thick eyelids slid open in the darkness behind Lord Colitar, dwarfing his entire head as a pair of angry, canine eyes focused on Zan. They rose higher above him, and a creature began to take shape within the shadows. The shaking ground intensified the more the creature growled. Every hound in the pen, including Zan's new friend, whined and retreated to a far corner to huddle together in a shivering pile. Zan stood his ground.

This seemed to amuse the Lord. “Hounds were wolves, once,” he vowed. “'Twas man who shaped them into smaller, more... loyal beasts. Broken, to be rebuilt piece-by-piece. Crafted into a better version of themselves by our own vision.”

Zan made no move, no sound, letting the fire rage inside him. How can he see anything with that metal mask of his? He thought.

“Then,” Colitar continued, “the Bound came and shaped them again, into their Apex!” The beast behind him let out a roar which shook the trees, and Zan could finally see from the wavering torchlight that it was a giant, hairless hound. Its incisors were swords—its nostrils, shields. Even the Lord's companions covered their ears, and he saw Vara recoil in the background.

Zan refused to move, no matter how much it hurt. I hate him, he concluded.

“You are a young wolf!” Colitar's deep voice rose up over his hound's fading roar. “We shall shape you into your Apex, Pup.” They brought Noro forward, in tatters with a gag, bound at the neck by rope. They kicked out the back of his knees so that he knelt to the same height as one of the men. He pointed a thick, armored finger as if it were a dagger. “I suggest you begin learning from the other dogs.”

Zan smiled, catching Lord Colitar off-guard, but then the boy's eyes began to water uncontrollably.

The Lord turned his back to take his leave, but paused to raise his hands triumphantly to his mighty beast companion. “This!” he announced, “Is Jund!” almost a roar in and of itself—almost laughing. He paused dramatically. “He is the Alpha,” the Lord promised, swallowed up by the darkness. A moment later, his hallow voice found the boy again from somewhere in the abyss. “Leave the pup... its cubs we seek, brothers!”

Days and nights came and went—and with each, Zan grew stronger.

He had formed a new special relationship with the sun and moon ever since his capture, each one reminding him of the progression of time and the reclamation of his strength. I could've escaped that second night, when they were on the hunt, the boy told himself, but I would've been too weak to free Vara or Noro. There was an opportunity on the third day, as well. A moment when a fight broke out, and every man in the camp had their attention pulled far away from him and the dog pen. I would've been too weak to forage or run, but I could've freed Vara and hoped she had the strength to bring us to safety. On the fifth day, he recalled a bout of afternoon drink that resulted in an early nap for many of the fighters. It only reminded him of the old man, Durim. I wonder what that old goat of his would think of what we've gotten ourselves into? Durim would just scold me or say something I don't understand.

The thought stoked an ember in his heart.

I could've freed myself, Vara, Noro, and escaped with ease that time, he remembered. “But then I—” he felt silky, short hair pass between his fingertips, a body brush up against him, then a flat tongue slugging its way up the side of his face. “Aye, Turo! Hello to you too!” He pet the hound relentlessly, rubbing his belly until something gave and Turo began kicking his foot as if it were possessed. “Good boy, Turo. Any day now,” he promised. The boy glanced about the rest of the dog pen from the corner he and his new friend had claimed. The rest of the hounds lay calm and snug in contact with each other all around Zan and Turo. If I had gone that night, I wouldn't have been able to save them.

Far off, he could see the spoils of Lord Colitar's hunts, more pens—each of them smaller and housing individual whining bear cubs. Beside all that were all the skins being tanned and processed daily, Noro's involuntary work station. Not just the skins of prey these men hunted, but there were several adult bears among them. No brown rabbits, Zan made it a point to notice each and every time he looked at it. The entire situation sickened the boy, especially since they made no attempt to hide anything from him. It didn't start as nausea however, but he had gotten past the tears after the first hunt. No more time for tears. He told himself. No more time to wait. We leave next chance we get—all of us.

And the chance appeared to be sooner, rather than later at that moment. The men had all been out hunting, and wouldn't be back until near dusk. When my dear friend, the Moon, is set to return to me, Zan mused. He opened his clenched fist like a blooming flower, and in his palm sat his salvation. A strange trinket to him, but he had heard one of the poachers refer to it as a key. Zan knew it unlocked the strange mechanism binding the doors of the pen together. The sixth night, Vara got free, and it took three of them to restrain her. He remembered how she had made her way all the way to the pen where he was, and how happy it made him to feel her thick fur once again. Zan only had enough time to tell her how much he loved her before they were on her.

This, 'key' was lying in the mud soon after the scuffle.

Durim's words came back to him yet again, they had repeatedly since he was first captured. At this point, it was like they had never left him. “Ye never regret being patient, Kid. When in darkness, 'tis best to wait for the sun to shine 'n reveal the right path to take.”

Zan would repeat the words to himself, watching Vara in her own personal captivity from across the campsites. He had rubbed the key for luck so many times, the grime and color had begun to fade into a reflective metallic surface in places. “Next chance we get,” he mumbled to Turo, scratching the hound beneath the chin. That bent, old stranger was right, he reminded himself. Durim.

Something happened, then—a shift deep inside the boy. To the bone. He found his hand had stopped petting Turo, and the hound had long since locked eyes with him. Swirls of golds within yellows set in bronze, all reaching for the darkness at the center of it all—pulling at it. Suddenly he was falling, slowly at first, but soon it became a rush too intense for him to follow. One moment he could feel his chest filling and his bones hollowing out, the next he was incorporeal and even lacked a body. There was light here, cold light, burning through darkness only to fade into it. A terrible power surged through him, then, he was nothing. Zan could feel a presence, something far off. In another world. It was warm, and the source of something. It was happy. It smelled of home.

Without a second thought, he reached for it, and could feel trust and love flow through him like blood in his veins. It filled him, from the bones, and everything began to shrink away. To him, it was an eternity, but when Zan finally returned to the world around him, he found only a few scant moments had passed. Turo still sat before him, staring unblinking with swirling shades of burning gold in his eyes.

Zan could feel him—he was him, and Turo was the boy in turn. Everything was different now, he just knew. He even knew what the hound was feeling, how hungry he was, and countless other complexities he found himself overwhelmed by. For a heartbeat, it was almost too much, and he was nearly unable to stand. Then Turo found his cheek again, and a wash of reassuring warmth welcomed him home, just like with Vara. He looked back at the hound with watering eyes. “Thank you,” he said, and could feel Turo understood him.

Across the camp, one of the men shouted that food was ready and Zan knew this was it. This was when there would be the fewest of them to stifle his escape, the least amount of eyes watching him. He already knew what he would do. Once the last of them disappeared to the feast, Zan and Turo rose in unison from the corner of the pen, advancing to the gate. The rest of the hounds became aware and climbed to their feet one by one, none of them making so much as a whimper, their tails wagging. They all watched.

In one swift motion, Zan drove the key into the hole of the locked mechanism holding him here. This is how they did it before, he reassured himself. Something isn't right though. He worked at it for longer than he wanted to, long enough that it deflated the triumph of the moment. Now, he was beginning to panic. Come on, come on. This way? No... this? No. He grew increasingly frustrated, anger pulling warmth and blood into his face. He could feel the tears building behind his eyes, fighting them harder than he fought the stubborn key.

“Ye never regret being patient, Kid,” Durim's voice seemed to whisper, “best wait for the sun to shine.”

Zan released the key, leaving it there in the rusting mechanism. He took a step back, Turo brushing up against him as he stole another glance at a sleeping Vara, and took in a deep breath. Slowly, he sat where he was, closing his eyes as he continued to breathe. Nothing in particular came to him, no sign or sunlight to guide the way, but he could feel the pace of his heart begin to slow.

His mind began to clear, his body calming, and Zan slowly opened his eyelids. “Huh,” he couldn't help but say, seeing the key with fresh eyes and a new angle. He stood and reached between the bars of the pen, twisting the key back and pulling it free with a slight grunt. He turned it around in his hand, pushed it back into the mechanism, twisted, and the lock fell open. “Ye never regret patience, Kid,” Zan mocked, laughing. He couldn't stop smiling. Thank you, old one. “Lets go, Turo.”

The boy let out a whistle, and every dog in the pen came surging out in a storm of barking and growling. Zan and Turo didn't hesitate to free Vara first, the wolf scratching at her snout when the rope was finally cut free. She whined and began aggressively licking him. “I missed you too, Vara,” Zan laughed, almost crying. “Yes, I missed you too.” The boy stood and ran over to Noro, only to realize the Orc wasn't at his station. No, he thought, feeling his perfect plan beginning to form cracks.

Zan craned his head side to side, searching for his friend, but it was useless. The camp was dissolving into chaos as the boy made his way to the cub cages, men scrambling to catch their grubby, starving hounds as the food stores were raided by the onset of the pack. When the cubs saw them approaching, they all whined even harder than they already were as they clawed at their cages. Each container had a similar mechanism as the dog pen, so on a whim, he tried the key. It fits! he thought.

A hound bolted from one of the tents with a piece of meat dangling from her mouth, causing the whole thing the collapse in the process. One of the men gave chase, but when he saw Zan interacting with the cub cages, the hound seemed less a concern to him. “You!” the man shouted, “you did this!” He stomped over to the boy, club in hand.

Vara and Turo both poised themselves between the boy and the man, growling with all the hair on their back standing on end. Zan could still feel how weak his wolf was, and Turo had a bottomless anger inside him. Even though these two don't know each other, they can feel my love for both of them, he realized, any fear he had of the pair squabbling dispelled. The hound snarled louder, causing the man to stop his advance. Thick saliva reached for the ground from Turo's jowls, and now it was the hound who began to advance.

Clink!

The first lock lay wide open in Zan's hands, key protruding out of it like a spear. It worked! He thought, Now, for the rest.

“Easy now,” said the poacher as he took a few steps back, hands raised slightly. He could clearly see the massive black wolf begin to advance on him as well, his wide eyes said as much. Every step Turo took, Vara backed him up until the poacher cursed and fled the opposite direction. Zan whistled, then Vara disappeared after him.

As the boy made his way through the cages, each cub exploded out the moment they could and greeted him with kisses and whining. Up close, they're all so much more starved and scared than I imagined, he thought, needing to pull one from a cage manually. It was either too weak or too scared, but it only served to frustrate Zan further. Vara returned and dropped a well-crafted spear at Zan's feet, then took her place beside Turo. Another man approached, but when he saw Turo and Vara he scowled, then fled. No, Zan realized, picking up his new spear, he wasn't scared. We don't have much time, I must find Noro.

The sounds of Chaos were growing louder, echoing over the landscape of the Senka Hills. Men screaming, dogs barking, bear cubs running about in different directions. Soon, however, the cubs all disappeared back into the forest and what dogs were left were being rounded up. Zan was prowling the perimeter of the camp, Vara and Turo his shadows. He was approaching the grand pavilion, where Lord Colitar would stay—they were known to bring Noro here from time to time. Its canvas was black like the Lord's armor, put up with a level of carelessness that made it more intimidating than anything.

“Hey!” Zan heard someone yell from behind him.

An icy bolt surged up into the boy's chest. I'm found! He realized. Vara and Turo felt it too, immediately dropping the stealthy charade to bare their weapons of choice. They growled at the man with a blood-lust, it even scared Zan a little sometimes. Sneaking is much easier with Vara only. The man stood his ground, and two more joined him with smiles on their faces. None wore armor, save Lord Colitar, but some had weapons adorned with small bits of metal; clubs with shards driven into them, simple spears, small knives, whatever they could get their hands on.

Vara and Turo did not wait, springing toward the poachers at the flanks. The wolf's went down easy only to be flung into the air by the leg and land on his head. When Turo advanced, the man recognized him and went to strike, but the hound did not waver. There was a flash as the hound leaped into the air, and the man was suddenly prone with Turo biting savagely at him. Golden steam rose from the dog's eyes as he continued to ravage the man, blood now visible.

Zan wanted to intervene, but his own target descended on him. When the man swung his club, Zan sidestepped and clapped the man across the face with the blunt end of his new spear. The poacher wavered, swinging once more—this time wider. This blow was even easier for the boy to dodge than the first, and he came back with a downward smash over the brow. The man's entire body tightened up, eyes dancing. Then, he dropped his club and slumped into a snoring heap.

The boy rushed over to Turo, still biting at the man, and pulled him growling away. The poacher crawled away with a trail of red smearing behind him. The hound had calmed the moment Zan touched him. “No,” he scolded, “we need to find Noro, let's go!” Turo barked and paced around him, eager for more.

“What is this?” roared a deep, hollow voice from the edge of the camp.

Zan turned to find Lord Colitar returning with his band, seething from the sight that stood before them. They carried fresh spoils, and among it all was Noro—still bound and drug along at their whim. Just then, Nin exploded from the treeline in a mad dash for Noro. Men attempted to step in front of the rabbit, but it was too small and too quick. They reunited, and tears immediately streamed down the Orc's bruised face. The moment was fleeting, however. A mailed hand closed around Nin and pulled the rabbit away from his master, causing him to scream in terror until the Lord relented and hurled the rabbit through the air.

Nin landed at Zan's feet, and the boy knelt down to help him. “There, there,” he whispered. “Quickly, go find help!” The Rabbit stared shaking into the boy's golden eyes, seemingly a moment of understanding, then bolted into the woods.

Vara and Turo took a step forward, descending into mad snarling as Lord Colitar laughed. “So, this is your grand escape, Pup?” a low rumble shook the air itself, thick brush bowing before the massive body of Colitar's Jund as the giant hound pushed his way into the camp. He let out a guttural bark, causing many to instinctively shield their ears, then pinned Noro with ease under one paw. The Lord took a step forward. “I will give you but one chance, Pup.”

“I had many chances,” Zan spat back, noticing the Lord's gazing poachers beginning to spread out and position themselves. He swiveled his head, making it obvious he saw them all. “You need armor and all these dumb men to beat me, huh? A pup?” The boy burst into laughter. “You probably smell so bad inside your little black shell—in fact, I can smell you from here!” He was laughing harder than expected now.

If armor could blush, the Lord's helm would've gone from wolf to rose. He raised a cold fist, and his men froze where they were. His gauntlets fell to the surface of his helm, and with a crank, a mechanism detached itself as he gave it a quick twist. The deep purple fire burning in the pits of the helm's dark eyes died, and it all came free. Lord Colitar, the Black Fist, removed his helm for the first time Zan had seen in the daylight. His skin was pale—his neck, too thick. One eye remained permanently closed beneath a puckering, purple scar which cut a thick swathe down his face. His jaw was massive, like his hound's, and his remaining eye smoldered with that same deep purple fire his helm had. When he spoke, his voice lost none of its depth. “It's time I teach you a lesson, Pup.”

Zan scratched both Vara and Turo behind the ears, and they stopped growling to take a step back. He raised his spear, pulling his grubby fox hood down over his head. “I don't need armor to beat you,” and with that, the boy charged. Lord Colitar planted his feet in a wide stance and raised his gauntlets, smiling. Zan stopped short and feinted right, then swung. A crack sliced through the air as wood met the armor of his gauntlet. He didn't even try to strike me, the boy realized.

A spike at the side of the gauntlet caught the shaft of Zan's spear, and with a carefree swipe from Colitar, the boy was disarmed. He took a step, causing Zan to stumble back. “What?” Colitar barked, taking another step. “What!”

Zan dove past him, feeling Colitar's cold metal closing around behind him. “Whoops!”

Colitar growled, then replanted his feet with his arms raised once again. “Come on, then!”

Zan easily retrieved his spear, Colitar making no attempt to stop or even pursue him. He stood as strong as a stone in his armor, simply waiting to react. This wont work, Zan thought, tumbling to the side—a blind spot. With a grunt, he hurled the spear through the air. It was heavier than he was used to, but still flew true enough.

Colitar did not move, simply tilting his head to the side to avoid the attack. “Pathetic,” he grumbled, taking two powerful steps forward.

Seeing the distance between them, Zan decided to plop down onto the ground and relax. He could see the Lord's eye widen, then narrow as his face scrunched up and flushed. Colitar took two more steps, maintaining his wide stance. The boy echoed him, tumbling back playfully. He doesn't like this, Zan realized. “This is a strange way to fight,” he finally said, after two more advances from the Lord.

Colitar's voice became bestial when he was angry. “This is no fight!”

“True,” the boy shot back, tumbling from another advance. He started laughing. “Its more of a dance!”

Finally, Colitar broke his stance and charged.

Zan switched tactics and charged as well, narrowly sliding between Colitar's armored legs. Without missing a beat, he pulled himself up onto his enormous back and began smashing at his stubby nose with both hands. Each blow made the Lord's scar dance, and he had landed three before Colitar's gauntlet pulled him scratching from his face. Instinctively, Zan launched the base of his foot into the heart of the black knight's pale face, and the man dropped him before he could land a blow of his own.

The moment he hit the ground, Zan tumbled back again and snatched up his spear before Colitar was finished grasping at his broken nose. This time when Zan charged, he was sure he would get him. He swung the blunt end of the spear, intent on the back of Colitar's hairless head, but found only armor. No! he thought, then the Lord's cold fist collided with him. He was airborne for a moment, chest burning, and everything went black as he met the ground.

“Stand up!” he heard Colitar demand.

When he stood, he barely caught the black shape barreling toward him out of the corner of his eyes and narrowly avoided Colitar's surprise attack. Then, the Lord was on him again with attack after relentless attack, smashing with iron fists. “Enough dancing!”

With each blow, it became harder to dodge as pain set in. Winter's Mark, he cursed, stealing a glance at Noro beneath Jund's massive paw. “This is the best you got?” he mocked, dodging another fist. The Lord only laughed and continued his onslaught. One more hit like that and I'm done.

Vara and Turo's ears perked up, heads craning around. Vara sniffed, then whined, heralding the sound of heavy footfalls coming somewhere from the forest. Lord Colitar froze as the source finally made itself known. A stampeding wall of flesh, fur, and horns exploded from the treeline, charging through the camp. A small swarm of hounds followed yipping in its wake.

“Durim!” Zan triumphantly announced, “Guld!”

Indeed, the wanderer had found him. Before the moment could set in, another massive shape detached itself from the brush. An enormous, angry bear, raging toward the camp. Lord Colitar shouted a word Zan didn't recognize, but it sounded like a curse. He turned to his hound and men. “Jund!”

The hound released Noro and, in a single leap, positioned himself between his human companion and the new threats approaching. Zan bolted for Noro with Vara and Turo close by. At that moment, the camp descended into an even deeper chaos than before. Fires erupted, tents were trampled, and everywhere one looked, it was carnage. Durim and his monstrous ibex exploded through the grand pavilion with ease and smashed into Jund like a great, black cloud. All of them were engulfed in the fabric of the tent, and it proved to be a great distraction.

Zan clapped the only man left to guard Noro across the face with his spear, and that was that. Noro was weeping. “Thank you, Zan,” he said, “I will never forget this.”

The angry bear roared out as one of the poachers caught it in the side with an arrow, then swiped another aside with ease. All the freed hounds attacked one man at a time and overwhelmed them. Then, Lord Colitar emerged from the tatters of his pavilion with Durim. The wanderer held a blade in one hand, his staff in the other, crashing down on the Lord with blow after blow. Behind them, the ibex and the hound exchanged strikes of their own—Jund lashing out, but always unable to get past those massive horns.

Laughing, Colitar caught Durim's blade and kicked him back, disarming him. “Think I'll keep this,” he scowled. Lord Colitar grunted and suddenly tightened up, frozen there with disbelief as he weakly reached for the newfound spear jutting from his body.

Zan had been watching, and plunged the sharp end of his spear up between plates beneath his arm. He felt the Lord's flesh give, and knew he got him good by Colitar's reaction. He's sweating so much all of a sudden, he noticed. The moment Zan made contact, Jund had stopped fighting and was already charging toward them. The monstrous hound had yelped out as if he, too, had been lanced. The boy dropped the spear, and dove out of the way as the hound exploded through and snatched up his master into his mouth.

Colitar coughed a pink mist into the air, laughing. “Oh, I'll be back for you, Pup. Mark me!” Red rivers ran from the corners of the pale man's mouth as he spoke. “Mark me!” With that, Lord Colitar and Jund disappeared over the treeline, leaving the entire camp to its fate. His men saw this, broke rank, and followed. The bear continued her charge through the camp, disregarding all else on her pursuit of the poachers, and disappeared with them. Far off, Zan could still hear shouting echo into the air for a long while after that.

“You saved me again, little brother,” Noro said, patting his belly and gathering his things after their well-deserved lunch.

Zan smiled and drained the last of his drink, then tossed the cup back to Durim. “I did! Don't make me do it again!” that made Noro laugh, but the Orc just dove back into eating. Captivity had not been good for their stomachs.

Durim caught it and tucked it away in one of Guld's many pouches. “How'd ye do it, Kid?”

Zan flushed, Vara and Turo both aggressively licking the sides of his face. “I just... remembered what you said.”

“No,” the old one corrected, and when Zan looked over, he found Durim gesturing to Turo.

“What? He's been following me around ever since we were captured.” He laughed as the hound nuzzled into him. “I've been calling him Turo.”

Durim lit up a smokeleaf. “Aye, I suspect ye t'call 'em for a long while, Kid.”

Zan found Turo's eyes, and felt a connection there. Oneness. “What do you mean?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“He's bound to ye,” he said, like he had been anticipating Zan's reaction. “He'll follow ye forever, Kid.” Durim's voice had a sadness to it Zan couldn't figure out, yet the wanderer was smiling.

The boy bowed his head. “I... I know. But I don't know how I do. I don't even know how it happened.”

Durim smiled. “'Tis a rare gift. It'll make ye more a target than ye already are.”

Zan hadn't noticed the wanderer was all packed and ready to go this entire time. “Wait, are you leaving already?”

“Aye,” was all he said. “'n ye be headed that way, where the scent 'o the ocean is. Lots 'o trade ships for ye to find who ye lookin for.”

Zan felt his eyes widen. The ocean, he realized, I've never seen it, but heard stories of the endless water. He knew Durim was right. “Noro said—”

“Said nothin'!” the Orc interrupted. “I told you I don't know anything about Bonding!”

“Regardless,” Durim continued. “No doubt our paths will cross again someday, Kid. I see it in yer eyes.”

Zan smiled, eyes watering, then rushed to embrace him. “Thank you!” the boy said, voice shaking. Noro saw what was happening and choked up, then stuffed a handful of berries into his mouth.

When Zan stopped burying his face, he looked up to find Durim's cheeks wet with tears as well. “No, Kid. 'Tis ye I should thank.”

Watch for Spirit Animals, episode 3, “Unity And A Bounty”

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