A horrified chill crawled along Gail’s spine. As if the being before her wasn’t ominous enough, it knew her whole name. Sure, her packmates already knew of this, even if they never refer to her or the Alphas by the name Silversteak, but this mystical being sounded as though they were expecting her.

Gail gulped, finding the courage to speak up. “W-who are you?”

“I thought that you would have figured that out by now.” The creature leapt down from the rock structure and softly landed on the ground with equal grace. It was when she was level with Gail that her furry wings became noticeable, pressed against her body. “Need I throw another book in your direction?” They took one small step after another, slowly, padding toward Gail who was struggling to inch away. Up close, the being looked more canine; a wolf, probably, but the puffy fur around her neck resembled that of a lion’s mane. More than that, her several fluffy vulpine tails contrasted her lupine and feline features. Then it clicked in Gail’s head.

“Are you . . . a Higher Being? Ventay?”

The creature wrinkled her face but bowed her head in acknowledgment. “Yes, I am indeed Ventay, but please do not refer to me or my fellow Spirivanguards as ‘Higher Beings’. It is distasteful and paints us in a horrible picture.” She shook her head. “Spirivants will do.”

“Y-yes, I’m sorry.” Gail dipped her head. Her mind was still spinning from everything. What in the world is going on? There’s a literal GODDESS in front of me, and she’s speaking to me!

Gail looked at Ventay again. Her eyes were sparkling, but perplexity (and the pain which had gradually begun to fade mysteriously) mingled with the astonishment swimming in her heterochromia eyes. “Why are you here?” she couldn’t help asking.

Ventay replied, almost amused, “What else but your ritual? Much like a few of your packmates, you’d prepared most of your life for this moment, have you not?” Her face grew grim. “Of course, some of the mutts in the bunch are not as commendable as others. I am certain you have taken notice of that. They walk among you, eat with you, and live like the rest of my children. Nothing particularly stands out at a glance, but their hearts are shrouded in darkness beneath all that fur and flesh.”

Zane immediately jumped to mind. Though, it was hard to say if his heart would be “shrouded in darkness” as Ventay had described it. As terrible as he treated Gail, he was dedicated to helping the pack survive by organizing hunts and keeping the other wolves in check whenever the Alphas were absent. It could be some of the Gammas who are more brutish than the rest of the pack that Ventay was referring to.

Gail tried lifting herself with her arms, but she almost collapsed entirely with a groan from the sharp pain stinging all across her back. Despite it being more bearable than when the skullwolves were raking her back, it still rendered her entire body numb and weak. She looked pathetic in front of the goddess, but Ventay did not scoff at this. However, she continued to look curiously—and quite heatedly—at Gail.

She asked, “Why did you run after that lone creature?”

“Because I thought it’s what I needed to do,” Gail replied, unable to hide her fear when the goddess furrowed her brow. “The others attacked me all the same. Wouldn’t it be better to cut down their numbers so they can’t surround me as much?”

“And how are you in the know whether or not they wished to harm you?”

Gail was about to quickly retort, but she closed her mouth upon realizing how baseless her reason was. Ventay dipped her head in disappointment. “You still have much to learn, it seems,” said the goddess.

Gail attempted once more to get up but to no avail. The sting came surging through her like a prowling pack when the adrenaline had been expelled, leaving her body to endure the frostburning sensation the skullwolves had marked on her. Ventay watched Gail writhe and tense at the pain for a moment before stepping forward. It wasn’t until she was looming over Gail that Gail noticed her with speechless fright.

Ventay looked way massive up close. Just her head was as large as Gail’s upper body, and that was made more evident when she leaned closer. Gail reeled back in apprehension, but she could only go back as far before her torso screamed in pain. Her fearful yet awestruck eyes watched the goddess, feeling her aura of warmth and safety.

Then Ventay started licking her right arm.

Her tongue was warm and gentle, rhythmically gliding across Gail’s fur and skin. Gail’s arm was rendered numb, as though the pain had peaked. It felt like needles pricking her for a moment, but eventually, after Ventay moved on to begin licking her other arm, sensation returned to her right arm without a trace of pain.

Ventay pressed her muzzle against Gail, turning her over so she could start licking the wolf’s back. This caused Gail to hiss the loudest as it stung the most across her entire back. Though just like with her arms, that pain lingered for a mere moment before subsiding completely, and the same went for her legs. Ventay stepped back once she had last licked the last bit of pain away. Gail was then able to turn onto her rear and sit, stretch and flex her limbs, and look up at the Spirivant in astonishment.

“I . . . I’m still so confused,” said Gail. “What am I supposed to accomplish in my Cubbing? What am I supposed to hunt and bring back to my pack?”

“A Ferian’s purpose is to not just hunt. You worry too much about pleasing your packmates that you do not wonder why you need to hunt. Have you not questioned why you must hunt innocent ferals for your ritual?”

“I-I . . .” Gail nibbled her lip for a second. “I hunt for my ritual to get my skull mask, right?” When the goddess scowled, she defensively added, “Everyone else’s Cubbing sounded as though they hunted something! Not once have I heard anyone say that you or any other Spirivants have met them. Only recently did I even know what you are, and I don’t get how I’m . . . supposed to know . . . what to . . .” She shrunk when Ventay growled, showing a few teeth.

Ventay huffed, forcing her expression to be slightly less peeved. “I am quite vexed. I would’ve assumed you to be better, to at least have picked up some wisdom.” She sighed with a slight shake of the head before sitting. Her several tails danced behind her as her wings spread out a bit more. “But I suppose you are young still, much to learn and experience. The people close to you will ensure that you grow.”

Gail’s ears twitched. Standing up, she glanced to see multiple rustlings in the wall of foliage. Her body tensed at seeing skullwolves reemerge, but these ones had miniature orbs of white that served as their eyes. More than that, a different kind of feral creature emerged alongside them, matching their numbers. They were more wolf-sized, albeit a little bigger still, and shared the same bluish silver coat of Ventta that glinted in the moonlight. They had vulpine tails as well, but only one each as opposed to Ventay’s mesmerizing set of seven tails and they lacked wings.

They surrounded Gail and Ventay, alternating between the inky skullwolves and the silver mini-Ventays. Unlike before, they looked friendlier and way less menacing—mostly from the sole fact that they sat in solemn silence instead of snarling and mauling her.

Her attention snapped back to Ventay as the goddess addressed her. “Gail Silverstreak, daughter of Frost and Terra, from this day onward, you will honor the Spirivants and the life given to you. Many trials and have been laid down before you, some that not even Fate can foretell. You may encounter friend and foe alike in your journey, but you swear, even as the soil claims you, to forever uphold these values:

“First, do not see us Spirivants as the curator of your destiny. We may be the guides of this world, but we do not wish to tamper with your desired path. So long as you do not stray far from our guiding light, you are free to prowl and explore this life we have granted you.

“Second, you must hunt with reason. Whether it be prey or a fellow Ferian, Alterian, Hiveling, Dragon, or whoever you may encounter, you must not hunt any being for your own twisted pleasure. You may be aware of this already, but the full moon shall be the only time you are obligated to hunt for food, but bear in mind with each prey you claim—all life has purpose, and a single cut strand will tamper the antlers of Fate, whether for better or for worse.

“Lastly, never forget that you share blood with your feral brothers and sisters. You are different—wiser, stronger, more capable with limitless potential—but feral blood still courses through your being. Care to not let it take over, but also care to not forego this and separate yourselves from ferals entirely. That is the purpose of the bonework your pack dons.”

The Spirivant’s voice echoed in Gail’s attentive ears. Invisible tendrils of both chill and warmth wrapped around Gail as she pictured herself after this. Her mind should be scrambled, fearful for her life after having talked back to Ventay; instead, a sense of serenity washed over her, but awe still surfaced above it. She took a deep breath as Ventay continued.

“I ask you again, Gail Silverstreak: will you honor and keep these values in your heart, even during the darkest hours, the brightest of moons, and after you draw your final breath?”

With conviction, Gail replied, “Yes. I swear to forever uphold these values and to honor my life and the Spirivants.”

Ventay dipped her head. “I am glad to hear.” She stared at the ground for a long while, her eyes looking glassy. “I must warn you as well, there may be information that is omitted from the literature that you have read—dark forces that are beyond our control that slithers beyond our sight. They will tempt you with power that rivals the blessings that us Spirivants grace you, but you promise me to never give in to those malevolent forces, no matter the grip they may have on you. Do I make myself clear?”

Promise, Gail noticed the choice of word. Ventay was right, there was nothing written about such evil forces. Her enthralled mind hadn’t even thought to consider that there will be beings against such Higher Beings, though it could have been due to how she thought it all to be fictitious. Now she knew it was far from a fairytale.

Gail nodded. “I promise to only follow your light, Ventay.”

“Good . . . good, I am glad. Now,” Ventay sat up, her head lowered and her eyes closed, “come closer. I shall now return you to finish what you so desire.”

Gail gawked at her for a moment. Glancing around, the feral creatures were bowing their heads as well, their eyes closed or their eye orbs vanishing. She looked back at Ventay. Unable to keep her question, she asked, “Will this be the last time that I’ll see you?”

“There may come a time where I or another Spirivant will visit you, but rest assured that we are always watching you, Gail. Now, come.”

With slow, careful, yet confident steps, Gail padded closer. She wanted to kick herself for thinking this, but it looked as though Ventay was inviting her to pat her head. She raised her hand slightly, still questioning whether she should or not.

Faster than how her heart raced, Ventay’s head lifted and soared past her arm. All Gail saw were a set of sharp, pearly teeth before darkness consumed all. The frostburn sensation returned, spreading all over her body, like a million scorpions stinging her, before disappearing as quickly as it happened.

It felt like floating in nothingness. Only darkness was present, and Gail felt numb to the core. Was this death? Had Ventay sent her to the afterlife, or was this a gateway that she must pass through to “return” to finish her ritual?

The frigid emptiness of the void crept along her fur, stabbing into her like icicles. Her eyes shot open and she sat up with a yelp, catapulting snow forward in her abrupt wake. She quivered, clutching herself, and heaving out cool mist. She swung her head about, making sense of where she was now.

She was in the clearing still. The monumental rock-structure still stood tall as it had, but the trees seemed to have dwarfed and dispersed. The circling wall of thorny bushes was absent as well, and the ongoing blizzard had buried the entire clearing with snow. The two moons continued to glow high in the sky, casting its brilliant light onto the clearing.

Gail thrashed her arms, sending more snow flying in every direction. Eventually, she managed to stand up, still hugging herself as there was nothing to keep herself warm. As much as she adored Sierra’s outfit for her, she wished there was a thick coat to go along with for weather such as this.

Glancing around the clearing once more, it was empty. Ventay was no longer with her, and neither were the feral creatures. Only the chilling sigh of the wind greeted her.

She brushed the remaining snow on her head, but her hand tensed when she didn’t feel her face. Instead of her fur and skin, she felt a cool solid surface. In a panic, she patted her head frantically. At the back of her head, there was no hard surface, and her ears were still intact and twitching. Crossing her eyes to inspect her snout, her nose poked through a gap in the whitish surface. Her eyes widened at the realization.

She donned her skull mask.

Her body froze in disbelief. For a second, she believed that Ventay had bit her face off, exposing the top half of her skull while her eyes, nose, the rest of her skin remained. Though, wedging a finger beneath the skull, she could feel the part of her face that was hidden. So Ventay didn’t maul my face off, she thought with relief. She placed a hand on the skull. But how will I tell this to the pack?

The pack was expecting her to bring back prey. Even though Terra told her that she wasn’t going to be hunting and Ventay’s appearance proved that, she felt as though that she was supposed to cover up that fact. With Sierra’s Cubbing, everyone was under the assumption that she hunted, and Gail could only assume it was the same for the other wolves’ Cubbings.

A gust of frigid wind almost blew her off her feet. She needed to return to the ritual grounds now.

From the shape of the stone, she could tell which direction the pack waited. Through her quivering body and the storm, she trudged through the calf-high snow as fast as she could manage. Leaving the clearing, the trees were more spaced apart than they originally were, and the bark and the now snow-covered ground were no longer inky in color nor did the air smell sulfuric.

She reached the slope where she had tumbled down and smacked her back against a tree earlier. Her mind was too hazy with other problems to begin wondering about the whereabouts of the panther that she’d met. She attempted to scale up the slope, but the thick layer of snow made it difficult to see where she could get a foothold in addition to making it slippery in some spots. She tried her hardest to grab onto an overgrown root or rock outcroppings, but she just ended up sliding back down. She stubbornly tried again but no avail.

She let out a shivering growl. She looked around, but there was no easier path, at least not one nearby. Thinking back to what Sierra had wondered, she tensed her body, trying to channel energy into magic that would help her surmount this slope. When nothing came off it, she relaxed her body with an exhausted sigh. No magical powers even after meeting Ventay.

Her eyes then lit up for a moment as she remembered—the panther “gave” her a dagger. She rethreaded her path toward Ventay’s clearing and inspected each tree trunk. To her grateful surprise, the dagger was still stuck in the tree around the same small glade. She pulled it out of the trunk with some effort and returned to the slope to attempt scaling it again. With the dagger, she stabbed it into the soil and used it as leverage. It was a slow process, as Gail was careful to not stab into a hard surface by mistake, but eventually, she reached the top and continued her trudging through the Forest of Shadows.

With a huff, she looked at the dagger in her hand. It’d served its purpose and she ought to toss it away, but instead, she kept it. She had no scabbard for it, so it remained in her grip.

Nothing stopped her from leaving the woods. She saw the cleft between the mountains that formed a tunnel; she was reminded of their den. It wasn’t any warmer in the tunnel as she passed through. Though, being surrounded by the rocky walls, panicked thoughts regarding her pack rattled in her mind more.

I don’t have enough time to hunt for a feral to have something to show them, and I don’t think I should even hunt for this. And I already have my skull mask! Do I just hide this when I get back and say I didn’t find any feral? Gail sighed. Nobody told me how to deal with this; not Terra, not Quibs, not even Ventay, and I need to challenge for a rank if they’ll allow me. . . .

She rubbed her forehead, or at least she tried to with her skull musk in the way. She’d never realized but she felt so lost without anyone to guide her when it wasn’t solely beating something up like she’d been focusing her training on. Was this what it was like to be by herself, with no packmates by her side?

Shaking her head, she suddenly broke into a sprint. She needed to reach the ritual grounds soon, to have less time to worry, and before the blizzard worsened.

Throughout her trek, she forced her mind to focus on anything else—the crunch of the snow beneath her feet, the frigid whisper of the wind, and the creeping sensation up her spine. Eventually, the gust brought with it the scent of her pack. She was close. Each step she dreaded, as she was drawing nearer to her possible exile.

Her packmates came into view. It seemed they had caught her scent already as they were looking expectantly at her. They were all sitting in the snow-blanketed ground. Few looked excited, most looked baffled, and others were snarling. Frost was among those who, for a moment, looked furious while Terra retained her solemn demeanor. Although they gave varied looks, they all spotted the dagger in her hand.

Gail stood in the same spot before the monochromic fire and her Cubbing pot. Despite the weather that was only growing harsher, the fire continued to crackle and kindle fiercely, but it couldn’t warm Gail’s body that was frozen from everyone’s eyes bearing down on her. She returned the Alphas’ gaze, unable to look at Zane who looked bemused or even the serene Zetas. She wished to look at Sierra’s warm smile, but a part of her was afraid that someone would bite her neck off if she turned her back on the Alphas and Beta for a second.

Frost took a deep breath to clear his clouded expression before standing up. His voice was cold and unwelcoming as he spoke, but no one paid any mind to his tone as he announced, “The young wolf has returned from the Forest of Shadows. Welcome back, Gail. We are glad to see that you have survived thus far, however,” there was more of an edge in his voice now, “it is impossible to dismiss the fact that you already bear your own mask. Where is its original owner?”

This question was expected, but Gail had yet to formulate a response that would draw out the least amount of shock from everyone. She gulped. “I . . . did not hunt for this skull mask.” She winced when she heard audible gasps and growls from behind her.

“Pardon?” Frost said slowly with forced calmness. “What do you mean by that?”

“There was nothing for me to hunt in the forest; no ferals or anything.”

“Then why did you return here?” Frost demanded. “You were specifically tasked to hunt and return with your prey, so what did you do in the past few hours?”

Hours? Have I really been gone for that long? If anything, Gail felt sorry that they all had to sit around in this weather for so long.

Accusingly, Zane pointed at the dagger in Gail’s hand and shouted, “She’s got a weapon! She must have gotten help from outsiders!” He snarled, and his words further amplified Frost’s fury. The blue in his eyes looked like arcane flames ready to jump out of his skull and attack Gail.

“Well?” prompted Frost. “Care to explain yourself, Gail?”

Gail trembled before their scrutinizing gazes. There were moments when breathing became impossible, like the ethereal projection of the Alphas and Beta taking turns strangling her. She slowly opened her shaky mouth, but Terra spoke before she could. Terra had placed a hand on Frost’s leg, whispering, “Calm down, dear. Let us go through with this.”

In a hushed tone through gritted teeth, Frost replied, “But no one is supposed to . . .” He sighed. “Fine. You handle this.”

As Frost sat down, Terra stood up. Her gaze wasn’t any softer than Frost’s, but Gail was more accustomed to it as well as her somber tone. “Gail,” she began, “you have failed to bring back prey in order to continue the ritual, for you have no pure feral blood to add to your Cubbing pot.”

Gail could already imagine the disappointed look on the faces of Sierra, Quibs, and Gruff, but her heart lifted a little when Terra continued.

“However, that is not the only way a Cubbing may be completed. There is a rare case, one that happens to so few of us here in the pack, yet you show the same sign of it occurring to you.” Terra tapped her own skull mask “Your mask. You returned wearing your own skull mask prior to the completion of your Cubbing. Only those who experienced this know, but they can corroborate my claim.”

Frost, Potts, and Juniper nodded. Curiously, Zane did not; instead, he looked at them with a cocked head, his bemusement escalating, before he glared intently at Gail.

“I know most of you are questioning this as it goes against what your Cubbings were like, but trust in us when we say that this is the ideal outcome.”

Despite her reluctance to avert her gaze from the wolves before her, she turned her head around. Her other packmates looked just as baffled as Zane, albeit with less murderous intent. Though, some looked more pleased and amazed—Quibs and Sierra were among the few who didn’t seem to be questioning this turn of events. She returned her attention to in front of her when the Zetas approached her. They lifted her Cubbing pot, same as they did before, and padded closer to her.

Gail noticed something unnerving about the pair. They were smiling. Not a lot, but their lips were curved just the slightest bit unlike the usual hard line of solemnness. Their voices were hushed, as though Gail should be the only listener. “We applaud you for making it this far, Gail Silverstreak. Ventay made no mistake in choosing you to be one of us.”

Before Gail could process much, she was now made to drink from the pot. She’d already forgotten how much the concoction burned in her throat. Her body shuddered, and her eyes watered, but she was able to finish the contents of the pot. She winced. The colors of the world grew vibrant once again. She may be imagining it, but now variegated silhouettes were lurking around her, those of ferals wolves, deer, felines, avians.

Then she smacked a hand against her temple. She pressed her arms against her body as she hunched over. A sharp ringing persisted in her ears, making it impossible to discern whether the voices that she was hearing were that of the people around her or merely her imagination.

She got onto her knees, dropping her dagger as she clutched her head. It felt like flames devouring her entire body; icicles stabbing into every pore of her skin; crows pecking her eyes out, and blades and claws lacerating her limbs. Then as soon as it all happened, they ceased, leaving her ears to ring for a moment more after the brief moment of torture.

Steadying her breath, she raised her head. Frost was now standing as well, and the Zetas returned to Terra’s side. Zane remained sitting, but he looked more exasperated since the last time Gail glanced at him.

What more, the flame that kindled beneath her Cubbing pot had regained its color. Split in half and dancing together, it blazed blue on one side and crimson on the other. Her Cubbing pot looked more stellar than it originally had.

Frost addressed the pack with a stern tone that silenced their concern and mutterings. “Now that we have witnessed this unseen turn of events, it is now time to move on to the final phase of the Cubbing.” Before Gail could protest to have a few more minutes to recover, he said, “Gail, you must now choose. Which rank shall you challenge for, or will you choose a similar path to Sierra’s and create your own?”

Gail groaned, struggling to support herself with her quivering arms. On her knees quaking like this, she looked pathetic. She felt pathetic. No one was going to take her seriously, let alone be intimidated by her if she were to challenge anyone. There was no chance of even besting the Deltas, whether or not she was even allowed to use the dagger she had gotten.

I should just join Sierra. She won’t put up a fight. She’ll gladly accept me as an Iota. We could both be happy in our Sanctuary, painting, carving pots, tying bone charms, doing whatever we want to. It doesn’t matter if we’re near the bottom of the pecking order as long as we can keep each other happy.

She diverted her gaze to Terra, and she remembered. Fear struck her temporarily giddy heart, causing it to throb with terror and anxiety instead of joy. She needed to challenge for Beta. That was already a death wish with her current state. If she weren’t going to die from challenging anyone else other than Zane, then Terra was sure to finish the job.

Gail’s eyes darted to Frost. Do not challenge for anything higher than a Gamma. She had already gone against his first order of bringing back the carcass of a feral. Should she break this second order of his?

I have to.

The words bubbled in her throat. Just one word would be enough to start the challenge. She only needed to say the rank, and Zane would happily come over to bash her head against the nearest tree and toss her into the fire. But even without uttering a noise, Zane stood up from his spot. Gail’s heart sank at the sight of his fuming face.

“Gail doesn’t deserve to challenge for a rank!” he objected. “This brat can’t even stand on two legs for the duration of the ritual. And that dagger she brought back! That’s proof that she got outside help to obtain her skull mask! She may as well join my daughter or be thrown into her own rank below her, or even better, be outcasted from the pack!”

Frost and Terra gave him warning glances, but his words were enough to pierce Gail’s ears back into a state of ringing. She clutched her ears, digging in her claws. She tried to combat the static in her head with her own thoughts.

Just settle as an Iota.

Be with Sierra.

You can choose to be happy.

You can choose to be who you want to be.

Scarcely, she could hear Frost’s and Terra’s voices. “What will it be, Gail?”

With one wistful glance at Sierra and a terrified look at the Alphas, her decision had been made. She agonizingly lifted a heavy arm, a finger pointed at Zane. Her arm dropped along with the rest of her body, and the chilling grasp of the void wrapped around her entire being.