Somewhere, in the Northern Wilderness, past a simple waterfall, upstream and over a barrier of river guarding boulders; allowing only the chosen residents of the steam to pass their eternal watch, a wolf lies. In transit over shrubbery, pebbles, and filth. The water fell to its wayside and screamed as it splattered over the dirt, to be eaten slowly by them, and shared with others until its next descent, at some time.

Three-star did a final drying out with a shake. The wolf’s coat, as if alive responded by itself to the slow change in season. Months ago, it was ebony. Today the chameleon finished its work, bringing the color of roasted coffee on display. All things said, the wolf hadn’t a clue of what to do next.

Hunted. Food awaiting home. now… what?

A godlike perspective in these parts. After his pack perished, and his heart damaged, it was only a matter of time before he followed next. To his surprise, the boy’s Juva had dissipated; alterations reverted. In his furious mania, there was a compulsion to drive back over, and start with his eyes first. But there was nothing to see, and no hint the boy was ever there. Just clues of a battle. His scent hadn’t left, and the blood where he perished was still fresh. So where?

Three-star waited. A little longer, and then a little bit more, and with faith he waited some more. That mystery would never close, and the night was deep. There were bigger terrors in this forest, that he knew. So, he couldn’t overstay for long, departing with regret clinging to him.

At first, he was quite adjusted to the solitude; hunting and fighting alone. It made for a more meticulous Three-star. A bad scrape or the wrong step would have him out of the fight, and with no fighting there wasn’t a way his hunger could be sated. Efforts awarded, as out of a bloody mess he emerged as a better practiced hunter, a superior wolf in comparison. But Three-star looked around. The shredded carcass of an elk before and after, didn’t provide much stimulation. There’s a word about that—it could be called… boredom.

A need satiated, what else could a Shade Beast complain about? Victory or death were the only two options. As he’d known. An unquestioned truth in these parts. But, as he got stronger, there was still fun to be had. Wrestling with the pack, imposing dominance over his inferiors. However—he has no pack; no longer. He wasn’t sure when, it may have been the glassy thing he swallowed from that corpse, or a muscle he hadn’t exercised in a while, but now everything felt so easy, he leaped higher than average, in a burst he’d overtake what he was hunting, and in a sniff Three-star would know all that breathed nearby.

In time, Three-star began doing simple math. How many times this prey swiped at him, how many mistakes he made in the scuffle, and how long he spent during all of it. These details made him more effective, for instance…

Rabbit, close.

But the clearing’s empty. The construction of a wider burrow is like pencil taps to Three-star’s hearing. Edged close enough to step in the right direction. Nevertheless, there’s no beating in his chest for such prey. A prey who’s unaware of how close things were to an unexpected end. It’ll never thank his mercy. Thereafter, he wandered. To places unworthy of note, through backdrops already traveled. Before he knew of it, he was already in a place unknown. He looked around, then—

A scent carried by the breeze. Like a lost and found, but subtle. He knew this smell; he would never forget it, swore it, in his heart of hearts. What he is now is because of that day, and for that there’s a vicious “thank you” to be gifted. A thank you here, a thank you there.

That human.

Three-star took a closer inspection at the smell. It is him. Issue being the scent in these parts of the forest are scattered throughout; and difficult to follow one trace. There were many roads to follow, Three-star hadn’t all day to follow up on all of them, it could potentially take weeks of search to find the true path.

Idea.

It didn’t take long to find a place of high elevation. Stationed here, one could see the snow and their retreat path; spared temporarily by the night’s mercy. Ears shooting up, and nose raised like a politician, he let the latter work first, evaluating the possibility of every path laid before him—but...

North-northwest could be wrong. East maybe wrong. South wrong, but Southwest… unsure.

This was the first time of such a predicament. What kind of wolf, an apex predator of these woods, doubts their own nose? Scents don’t last forever, humans’ hints fade over time, more quickly than others. So, in consideration of it, there could only be one answer with no takebacks. He let his nose keep itself up, however the rest of his attention was diverted to his hearing, which didn’t fail him earlier. Howls, whimpers, moans and the indiscernible flooded him in his concentration. Useless information that imposed on him selfishly, as if knowing they were unable to be suppressed, the intensity of such noise rose and fell in waves.

Three-star couldn’t help from snarling at the grating prey. Who were they to distract him from something more important than their own fleeting lives? If he desired, if he willed it so, the proximity surrounding to the nearest stream can be swept clean of any of the interlopers in his hearing. He almost swore he would. If—

If he hadn’t gotten the unexpected. A peacock amongst chickens. Even without declaring itself, its entire everything informed him all what he needed to know, in the now without a thought. Gibberish to most comprehension out here. Just like the gibbered pleas for mercy, cut short with a crushed throat. Three-star had a little bit of familiarity with their communication, their ways. They always had nigh-infinite ways of pronouncing their calls to one another, and it even seemed to speak for the world rather than themselves.

Not boy, however…

There was always an investigation to be had.

The two humans were on their way somewhere, and Three-stars’ burgeoning curiosity couldn’t refuse. Even at a distance their fingerprinted scent trailed off them, making for an easy tail. Sacks partially filled with treats; as he could sniff out too, and things less pleasant and barely mentionable for him. Clinging to the elevation, unutterably thankful for the convenience of his stealthy path worked with the mountain’s bumps and bruises. He controlled his breath, watched his steps. Humans they may be, but instinct told him they were more than that on the surface. He learned that personally.

“…He’s been training his life out, that guy.” One of them said.

“Well, duh. Who wouldn’t? Not only is he invited, but he’s also the frontrunner for our clan in the upcoming…”

“Think he’ll win?”

“I think he’ll do better than him. That cripple’s shadow’s been a stain on our legacy since then. Xinrei won’t allow it, neither will his father.”

The two figures walked around the mountain’s bend. Three-star saw between them something up ahead, a structure unlike any seen.

Not tree. Not mountain. Big wall.

The humans passed under the gate’s shadow, but Three-star stopped short. Up ahead the wilds were sheared away, leaving in its absence a propping up of new things, human things. The pagodas were most noticeable, reaching out in curiosity for the sky’s limit. There were spires, weathervanes, and calm rivers whose origin he could trace back to the frontier. An inconsistent splattering of soft light; a beacon of death where he came from, it would take a thousand packs to assault such a place. It would be a horrible idea to continue, but…

He just couldn’t help himself.

Their smells infested this place—as if a mask of human were strapped to him. There was so many, he didn’t know where to start. Fortunately for him there was still some reminder of his civilization; the evergreens who were spared made their privilege known. Accepting their coverage, it was a platform to investigate close.

Can’t count. One pack, or many?

There were shapes of humans he hadn’t even thought existed. Spindly, thin figures whose spines took a grassy bend to them. Instinct also told him to stay far away from the ones like this, the intensity of those characteristics, the stronger the caution. On the other hand, there were humans whose awareness was worse than normal. A short and fleshy one walked not so far from him, even let its eyes drift in his direction. Not a hint of alarm. Should it be that this one was so powerful, it mattered not? A den of the strong? Even weirder with such a powerful creature, it was still lifted and held to the shoulder by another human.

He was getting distracted. For clues, he’s here for the clues. It’s time to move on. But—

Do not… understand. Where, human?

The scents were so intermixed they almost created their own from the pot. Giving him more indecision than last. Under his deliberation, a new, visible scent came. It was the peacock again. But instead, it differed slightly. A few ways different, and a lot shared in kind. It interested him; nose moving to its heading.

These humans within are rabbits too, the predator’s shadow bending round corners as he walked. Good for them also, as it was his day off; there’s a more important human even above the buffet surrounding. Down some broken and weathered cobble, past the steelmaker’s forge, and beyond the two buildings in his way. A figure walked alone. Three-star also had an instinct, to keep a planet’s gap away.

The figure walked in an odd manner from others of its ilk, a step too short, a step too far. His tail took Three-star to a new building a day away from collapsing underneath its supports. This man didn’t do much else other than stare at it. Possibly the first time a wolf could describe himself as “bored” during an observation.

Iron serpents held the gate; guarded the door, too. The nailed signs had scribbled writing, marked in bold, whatever it meant, to Three-star's eyes it annoyed him.

“How could things come to this…"

“Mira, I’m sorry. Before anything, I will find our son.”

Three-star stepped back, then—a twig snapped.

“Reveal yourself!” The man turned, aura blasting out.

The wolf’s heart was massaged by the reaper, and for that, Three-star’s hind legs took him wherever they could go, however fast they could move. Eventually, he was more lost than before, if that could be achievable. Soon he tapered off his sprint till he stopped cold in the middle of an unrecognizable place.

Place… different.

The chipped and spider-cracked cobblestones the town was paved with and lived by was long gone. Replaced by a smooth, polished piece more related to marble than not. His paws didn’t find a single defect. But the stingy masons wouldn’t allow it to reach from here to there, where a wall extended up and seats above filled in. Between the two, lively grass flourished. Imperfection came to the wall—a broken semicircle filled in with scaffolding and abandoned tools. Reaching down for a sniff, there was a faint substance in the stone. Blended well, adding character to it. The smell of—

Blood.

Taking a closer look at the scaffolding, Three-star couldn’t forgive his curiosity for such a time waster. But then, the moon’s light illuminated an oddity. Below the scaffolds, a little bit over to the right, meeting the unfinished section… there was a pit below. A cave dug where it would find the least usefulness, inside, another light. The inviting light inside drew him. The leviathan’s throat was stuck to an arch. Unseparated from the angle above. In here, smell seemed to drift somewhere, and then died as the wind did. Leaving stagnant air to laze about. Each torch, equidistant and equivalent in fuel, made Three-star rethink his choice of adventure to the unknown. If the tunnel splits, there’d be no way of telling if he could make his way back.

That anxiety wasn’t so. As a time between brief and eternity finally delivered him to a break in the monotony, a doorway sat at the apex of the bend. Curiously enough, there wasn’t a door or a single leak of torchlight on approach, an underdeveloped section perhaps?

Upon entry, Three-star froze.

Can’t… move.

His eyes flicked to the doorways, and as expected—a familiar sight in memory. However, instead of knives or time-beaten paper, an unfurled scroll took liberties on the ground, lazing over scattered books, tables, and books and tables. The scripture written wasn’t much different than the one the boy used either—except for the small, modular changes with emphasized strokes created the specialty piece.

Three-star’s muscles trembled. It was like pushing a ship with one’s nose. In recollection, the effect was the same, almost. The binding before had some give, and like tying a knot, there was always some give somewhere.

“Hmm? What’re you doing here, so close to town?” A voice said. The tap of his shoes came closer by the second, “Shade Beast? Cultivation’s not too shabby either.”

His tunic saw many stains of grime and indescribable filth, but it didn’t detract from the man’s endless presence. Gelled hair, modest jewelry. Everything about him spoke human, but Three-star could tell.

Dangerous! Must—flee!

The man’s ink-stained hands brushed Three-star’s pelt, “How’d you get in here? Oh, right, you just… stumbled on in. That’s a problem. Father has me helping him to rid him of… problems. I haven’t even considered that maybe someone might walk in, guess my guard’s been down too long at home to even think of it. Ah, what a trouble.”

Each tap of his foot was as like discovering the depths of him once again, the shock impossible to be conditioned with. He, on the other hand, walked in obliviousness, strolling through a park, if asked to describe. The man inspected Three-star as if he were a specimen; just one he’d forgotten about.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay alive this long, if I release you now, you’ll just be a menace to the younger generation.” he said.

For some reason, Three-star’s heart twisted.

“But…” He grinded his teeth, an eye shot to the exit, “you did expose such a flaw. If it could even be called such. How about this,” his fingers snapped.

Three-star’s mass was embedded into the wall, a force almost trying to merge him with the construction itself. His high whimpers did nothing to affect the man, instead, it only increased the pressure further.

Death… inevitable. My prey, so far away. Regret.

The man rubbed his fur, “Be a good boy, bark as normal, and maybe,” he reached down for a section of the scroll, “I’ll spare you. You’ve been assigned to guard duty. Have fun.”

He vanished so long ago Three-star hadn’t a clue of when his suffering began. Frozen to a wall, with only two bowls—water and meat, for his upkeep. Whenever Three-star’s attention lapsed, and he fell into a deep sleep, the bowls would be filled once more, but not a sight of the man was ever taken in since then. And it seemed to be his senses were tricking him, delirium doing a tap-dance; the atmosphere, the gravity of his prison felt as if it was increasing, hour by hour, and day by day.

But that couldn’t be his concern, escaping now, is.