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And so his first journey of the Spirit of the Day passed uneventfully as he played and entertained himself. It was a nice start to his first solo adventure. In the evening, tired, Ardi chose the widest and sturdiest tree. Making sure it wasn’t marked by a bear’s claws or gleaming with lynx or wolf fur, Ergar’s apprentice deftly climbed the rough bark and settled on a wide branch, hiding among the foliage.

The young hunter had learned the lessons of the snow leopard well. Since he hadn’t grown thick fur yet, and his claws couldn’t tear through flesh freely, nor could his fangs crack bones, there was no point in tempting hunters with his soft appearance.

After settling down and making sure he wouldn’t fall even if the Spirit of the Night granted him a restless sleep, Ardi began to prepare for his rest. As Ergar had taught him, he began with words of gratitude.

"Spirits of the present and the future," he said, looking up at the lights of the spirits of the past — those who had already walked the unseen paths — beginning to glow high above, between the broad wings of the Spirit of the Night. "I thank you for the path of the Spirit of the Day that you have laid beneath my paws." The young hunter gestured with his paw, placing the back of his fist first on his chest, where his heart was beating, and then on his forehead. "Thank you, Spirit of the Night, for coming to take me on a journey, and I ask only that you release me when the time comes."

Ardi opened his hand and covered the sky with it.

"Spirits of the old hunters and mothers — thank you for walking with me. My land is your land, and your way is my way."

With the ritual complete, Ardi curled up and fell asleep. He even dreamed something. He just couldn’t understand what it was. He saw a huge cave made of stone and wood, but somehow it seemed to have grown out of the earth. Nearby, a stream gurgled. And someone, a barely discernible silhouette — neither beast nor bird — was standing on the steps. And there was the smell of blackberries. But it was a little strange.

It wasn’t just the smell of blackberries, but something else. Something very...

Ardi woke up with a burning face. He reached out and wiped a few drops of moisture from his cheek. This had happened to him before, when the path of the Spirit of the Night had also ended with moisture on his face. Ergar had told him that it was a mirage and that it would be another five seasons before it stopped bothering him. He just had to be patient.

But never before had this moisture made Ardi feel pain and-

"I can smell something."

Ardi crouched down quickly and quietly. Using his fangs, he tightened the strap of his gloves that held his claws and squinted, peering through the foliage.

"The trail ends here," a second voice said.

"Keep looking..." A third growled, threatening and strong. "This is the scent of bipeds... Their young cannot walk the paths between the leaves."

"But, Pack Leader, I can feel the scent going up the trunk."

"Then your nose is wrong, Hargli. Keep searching!"

A few shadows, hidden by the veils of the Spirit of the Night, darted in different directions. The largest of them stood still for a moment, sniffing the trunk and the ground. It rustled through the grass with its snout, occasionally tearing at the ground with its paws, but eventually, it settled down. It stilled for a moment, then looked up sharply. Ardi didn’t flinch or move. Ergar had taught him to trust his camouflage, and unnecessary movement would only help his prey find him.

And it didn’t matter that in this case, Ardan was the prey.

The wolf’s eyes could see perfectly in the dark, no worse than Ergar’s and his little apprentice’s own eyes could. But even though they saw well, they didn’t know what they wanted to see. And so, the leader of the pack saw only a few fireflies among the high foliage, and nothing more. After standing for a few more moments, he growled low and rushed into the forest.

All the while, the young hunter’s heart was beating only slightly faster. And only after the strange scent of the forest dwellers had sufficiently dissipated among the trees and earth did Ardi allow himself to exhale. If he had shown weakness for even a second, the wolves would have smelled his fear and would not have doubted the abilities of their tracker so much.

"But why," the young hunter whispered, gripping a branch tightly. "I haven’t crossed anyone’s path or stolen anyone’s prey."

And the few fish he’d caught had been so small that they surely wouldn’t cause a whole pack to fight over territory.

"They have no reason to bare their fangs at me," Ardi frowned.

But those were all, as Ergar had put it, thoughts for another day. For now, he had to get out. His Master had always said that wolves didn’t abandon their prey and even if they went away for a while, they would surely return to the trail. They lived in packs, not alone like the proud mountain hunters, and therefore, they needed much more prey.

After waiting a little longer, sniffing the wind and peering into the darkness of the night trails, the young hunter began to prepare. He broke off a small twig and rubbed it over the spot where he had lain to avoid attracting unnecessary attention from lynxes or, spirits forbid, someone poisoned by the Ley. Who they were, Ardi didn’t know — Ergar didn’t like to talk about the Ley-Poisoned.

Descending to the ground, the young hunter placed his paw on the trunk and muttered words of gratitude. Maybe it was his imagination, but the tree seemed to creak differently under the increasing pressure of the east wind in response to his gesture.

Ardi practically pressed himself to the ground, trusting his eyes and nose. His eyes didn’t see as well in the darkness as Ergar’s, but it was enough for him to notice four tracks and a trampled path. His nose also caught the familiar scent of dried blood, stones, and added a few new and unfamiliar ones... or almost unfamiliar? It seemed like, in the very depths of his mind, those strange notes were called spruce, juniper, brown moss, and...

The young hunter frowned and shook his head. These were all remnants of the Spirit of the Night’s mirages. He didn’t know these words or these scents. Such things did not grow in the Alcade Mountains.

"There are four of them," Ardi whispered, straightening up and hiding in the encroaching darkness. "With the tracker, that makes five. That’s too many for a hunting party and too few for a migration."

Ergar, when he’d taught him about the lives of hunters and prey, had said that wolves sometimes traveled incredible distances — far greater than any other hunter of the mountain trails, forest expanses, or river and lake shores. But they rarely did so, and usually, it happened when they were following the migration of their prey.

But now the blooming season was upon them. That meant that the prey was moving here, not away.

The young hunter frowned. He didn’t like what was happening. It contradicted all the laws and rules he had learned about so diligently in the cave. And the tracks of the wolves had a strange smell to them. Everything seemed normal at first glance, but something was drawing attention to itself in a very unpleasant way.

It was reminiscent of that time when Ardi, out of ignorance, had decided to consume some yellow snow. Ergar had teased him about it for a long time, and Ardan had been unable to get rid of the unpleasant taste on the tip of his tongue for what had felt like weeks.

And here, now, it was the same in a lot of ways.

"Maybe this is enough for my first outing," Ardi nodded at his own thoughts. Ergar’s lessons were deeply ingrained in him. And as his wise teacher had said: "You can’t do it right now? Then retreat, prepare, return and finish what you started."

Yes, he would have to endure his teacher’s ridicule if he spent only one of his allotted five nights in the wilderness, but that was better than facing five clearly unwell wolves on the trail. And the way they’d whispered about the scent of bipeds... Who were these bipeds? More mysteries. Ardi liked mysteries, but only when they were part of that old hunter’s stories.

The young hunter had already turned, ready to hurry into the thinning forests and climb back up the mountain trails, when the wind changed direction. The restless and playful east wind stopped, and a hot and bold south wind blew in. It brought with it the scent of water, the murmur of a stream, and something else...

Ardi closed his eyes and inhaled noisily through his nostrils several times. The scent reminded him a bit of the mountain goats of the lower slopes, only somehow different. Softer. And there was also... the smell of milk and something... fleeting. Phantom-like. It was like waking to the first rays of the Spirit of the Day, stretching sweetly, and looking down the slope to where clouds were just beginning to rise. And their scent was faintly similar to what the young hunter was smelling now.

And thanks to Ergar’s tails, which had left several long, purple streaks across his apprentice’s chest, he knew very well that such a scent was not something strong hunters should bother with.

This scent meant a young female carrying a child in its final stages.

Ardi frowned — now was not the time to be carrying any young. On the contrary, the season for hunters and prey to find a mate was still to come. It would be several weeks before the new cycle of birth began, and the winds and earth would be filled with scents that had no effect on Ardi. And yet, this scent did not dissipate.

Ergar had taught him that the hunting of pregnant females should only be done as a last resort, when his hunger was almost overwhelming. They were an easy and simple meal, but if they were constantly targeted, there would soon be no prey left at all.

Ardi turned and pressed his ear to the ground. Without moving, without breathing, his heart beating more and more slowly, he listened to the words the earth whispered to him. It told him that to the east, about half an hour from his location, a grouse had taken flight, and to the west, almost three hours away, a clumsy bear had found a honeyed hollow, and also...

The wolves were also running toward the watering hole, and they were so fast that the earth, against its will, was trying to deceive Ardi, telling him that their run had turned into a flight — they were barely touching the ground with their paws.

The young hunter straightened.

He looked in the direction that the scent of water was coming from. His small paw gripped his Master’s fang so tightly that drops of blood ran down his furless pelt.

Ardi had no idea why the doe had become pregnant at the wrong time of year, and even more, he didn’t know why these wolves seemed so strange to him. Besides, all of Ergar’s lessons had taught Ardan to withdraw, return to him, tell him everything, discuss things with him, think everything through, prepare, and only then return to the trail.

The trail...

The young hunter ran his fingers over the wolf tracks.

But this was no hunt...

And the moment he thought that, something within him awoke. Something as old as the peaks of High Alcade and as powerful as the wind that carried Kaishas toward the fire of the Spirit of the Day. It unfolded within Ardan, stretched out, rose to its full height, and without a trace of fear or doubt, turned its gaze forward.

It was as if the ground beneath his feet grew firmer, promising that the hunter would not stumble or falter. The trees moved their canopies over his head, assuring him that even the sharpest of eyes wouldn’t see him. The wind, swirling around him, bowed low, promising to cover and hide his scent from all, prey or hunter alike. And the water... The water promised to delay the wolves for a short time and prevent them from committing a crime.

Ardi didn’t understand what was happening, but for all its strangeness, it seemed right.

And so, the young hunter ran.

If he could’ve seen himself right then from an outsider’s perspective, he would’ve been amazed at how easily his small paws crossed great ditches that even Ergar would have trouble jumping over. At how deftly he pushed off trees and rocks, gliding through the air no less skillfully than Kaishas himself. And where his paws touched the grass, it parted in circles all around him, resembling the surface of water disturbed by a stone.

And a sound filled the land as the trees laughed and the wind carried these glad tidings. The animals, upon hearing it, woke up and could not believe their ears and eyes. They breathed in the air and listened to the forest. And it told them of ancient legends that were now almost forgotten myths. Of a people who’d lived among the beasts. A people who’d protected this land, given it their blood, and asked nothing in return.

"Matabar..." Whispered the old pines, passing the rumors to their spruce sisters, who told their aunts and uncles, the birches and willows.

"Matabar..." The earth called out, whispering stories to the stones and hills.

"Matabar..." Laughed the wind, whirling through the endless expanses.

It flew over the canopies and spread across valleys and fields until it climbed the rocks of the ancient mountains, made them tremble, and swirled within the cave of a lone snow leopard. He looked down at something beneath the Stairs, and for some reason, his eyes began to glow with a steady, white light.

But Ardi saw and heard nothing. He was just running, trying to get there in time, before something irreversible happened.

And he made it.

Leaping from a low cliff, he ran across a line of stones that served as a bridge over the stream and landed right in front of the frightened doe.

Drops of moisture still clung to her black lips and soft, brown fur. Her small antlers stuck out amusingly behind her ears, and her heavy, massive belly was almost touching the ground. Whoever she was carrying had to be a giant, perhaps one no smaller than Lenos himself.

The still very young doe backed away and lowered her head, showing her antlers. They could’ve only hurt Ardi if he’d been old and blind.

"I am sated at this hour," Ardi said, putting his palm to his lips and then to the ground. "I do not seek your life, future mother."

The doe did not move for a moment, then began to breathe loudly. Her nostrils flared like a frog’s throat, then deflated just as noisily.

"You smell strange, mountain cub," she said in a voice that somehow sounded like the rumble of spring thunder and the first thaw. "You smell like a biped that wanders invisible paths and desecrates old stones with iron. You smell like a snow leopard, barely opening its eyes and licking its claws, and you smell like..." she inhaled deeper, and Ardi saw sparkling stars in her dark brown eyes. But he must have imagined it. "Matabar."

Matabar... These sounds echoed inside the young hunter, but within a heartbeat, they curled up within him, hiding behind Ergar’s words that he’d spoken on that first day of the hunt, and fell asleep.

And Ardi had no time to think about it — the fur on his neck stood up, and the spot where Ergar’s tails always danced tightened. The wolves had come closer, he just knew it.

"You’ll have to run," the young hunter urged, making sure his claws were secure in his gloves.

"Run? Why should I run, strange cub?"

"Wolves," Ardi hissed. "Wolves are coming here."

"Wolves," the doe snorted. "This forest hasn’t seen a hungry winter in a long time. There’s plenty of prey here. No one will break the Law of the Matabar and hunt a pregnant doe just for dinner."

"These wolves are strange," the young hunter insisted. "Please. Believe me. They smell strange and speak strangely. You must run."

"They smell strange?" The doe asked, then bent down and practically buried her muzzle in Ardi’s chest. She took another deep breath, then whispered so softly that it was barely audible, "Ley... They are poisoned by the Ley..."

Ardi’s eyes widened and he turned sharply toward the stream, just in time to see five gray stones gradually grow in size. What could’ve been mistaken for dew turned out to be fur. Fangs were bared and bottomless, red eyes burned. Especially the eyes of the largest wolf standing in the center.

In its mouth, which resembled a predatory fish somehow, its fangs stuck out in two rows, and around its eyes glowed a network of burning scars. Even its fur looked more like a snake’s scales than anything. Tendons tangled and wriggled and swarmed all across its body, despite the almost complete silence that had suddenly descended upon the watering hole.

"Looks like your nose hasn’t let us down, Tracker!" The Pack Leader laughed. "There really is a two-legged cub here!"

Ardi tried to push the doe behind him, but his hand found only air. The young hunter allowed himself a glance back, but saw no doe there, no trampled grass from her hooves, no drops of moisture from her fur. Even her scent was gone.

"How dare you turn your back on me?"

The young hunter immediately turned to face the leader of the pack, but he didn’t dare look him in the eye — that would have been a challenge. The last thing Ardi wanted was to fight the leader of the pack. He knew he couldn’t even scratch him.

"Wise hunter," Ardi lowered his head, but not so much that he saw nothing, just enough to show his neck in a sign of submission. "I do not seek your paths, nor do I lay claim to your prey. I am merely passing through on my own paths, and my tracks come from the northern peaks. Let us part. You are a hunter, and I am a hunter, and we have nothing to quarrel about today."

The wolves closed their jaws and lifted their noses higher, catching the scent threads in the wind. The leader bared his fangs again, revealing several rows of dangerous teeth. Ardi could sense the strange, sweet smell emanating from the pack. It wasn’t like that of ordinary beasts, and it wasn’t like that of Ergar, Lenos, or Kaishas, either.

"A two-legged cub that knows our language?" The wolf hissed. "The Spirit of the Night has truly brought us an unusual meal. When our fangs break your bones and our claws slice your flesh open, I will try not to forget what you said about the northern peaks."

The wolves lowered their heads to the ground, growling and baring their teeth as they slowly emerged from the thicket. They stepped carefully over the pebbles scattered along the stream, their fur bristling at their necks and their tails tucked tightly between their legs.

Ardi backed away slowly, not breaking eye contact. His heart was beating so hard it almost jumped out of his chest — there was no need to hide his fear anymore.

The wolves felt this, and their faces twisted into bloodthirsty grimaces.

"Five snows of the Master’s lessons are still better than perishing in their stomachs," flashed through the young hunter’s mind.

He grabbed the fang hanging from a cord, but didn’t have time to call upon Ergar.