IN THE DARKENING woods, Tiwaz spoke with Tracker in his native tongue. He was curt and impatient, turning and loping off into the darkness. “He says he knows a shortcut to our goal. You sure you can keep his trail? He’s one of the best they’ve got.”

Well outside the village boundaries, Doom removed his cloak and scarf, stuffing them into his backpack. “Have a little faith in me, Ti.” He looked at the sky. “Are you going to change? It’s after sunset.”

She shook her head. “Not unless it’s necessary. Tracker is young and no one has ever seen me change my form. I don’t want to spook him.” She pressed her lips together briefly. “Stories are one thing. Reality tends to scare the hell out of people. Shape-shifters are legend even to wolflen. Not a good legend, either. I’m just happy no one thinks I’m a contagious lycanthrope.” Doom shrugged, leading the way into the darkness.

They encountered many hazardous obstacles on the treacherous path Tracker was leading them on. “I’m impressed he’s been able to get past most of this,” Doom observed. “They’re giving me pause.”

“I’m just worried his pride is pushing him to take on too much risk alone.” Tiwaz looked at her friend. “He wants to prove himself better than us outsiders. He does not see himself as a part of our team.” She stopped when Doom froze, silent for several heartbeats. “What is it?” she whispered.

“I think Tracker finally hit an obstacle he couldn’t get around. Sounds like a wounded bear or something, but I can’t be certain.” A very audible howl of pain startled them, and both bolted in the direction Tracker’s voice led them.

They skidded to a halt at the edge of a very large sinkhole that the wolflen had slipped down into. Unfortunately, he was not alone; a large, wild boar was also with him. The creature was mad with injury and hunger and the young wolflen was an opportune meal. To its small mind, Tracker was the cause of its hunger pangs. It had already slashed his legs with his tucks.

“Tracker!” Doom bellowed to the fallen wolflen. He lay flat, reaching down as far as he could. “Grab my hand!” Tracker stretched to reach the gromek’s extended hand, but there was still too much distance for them to meet. He looked wildly at the boar as it squealed loudly in preparation to attack.

A black panther suddenly leapt down and landed between Tracker and the boar, snarling in challenge. A swipe of claws across its snout gained the boar’s complete and undivided attention. It charged the panther and the cat rolled onto her back, clamping her jaws on its throat and digging at the soft underbelly with her back paws. Her grip was imprecise, doing little but infuriating the beast.

Doom tied a rope to a tree and slid down into the pit, tossing Tracker his dropped spear. The wolflen, somewhat in shock to see Tiwaz’s alternate shape, reflexively grabbed the weapon out of the air. As Doom drew the boar’s attention towards him, the wolflen drove his spear into the boar’s heart, killing the monster. Both males moved quickly to get the carcass off the unmoving panther.

“Ti?!” Doom rested his hand on her shoulder. “Ti, do something. Gods, please, don’t be dead.” He exhaled in relief when she opened her eyes, achingly rolling over and pulling herself to her feet, weaving unstably. She stared at Tracker with weary eyes, fully expecting him to react with fear, horror or disgust.

The young wolflen crouched carefully, favoring his injuries. He stared at her, his expression unreadable as his eyes moved up and down her altered form. “Stories true. Tiwaz change.” She lowered her head, eyes closing as he reached out to put a hand on her head, stroking down her shoulder. “Change when want. Still Tiwaz. No madness.”

“Yes, she is still herself,” Doom confirmed. “She is a true shape-shifter. The ability to take a second form is a natural ability, not the lycanthrope sickness.”

It was difficult to read the wolflen’s expression as he looked her over, looked at his hand after touching her, then back to her. “Saved Tracker’s life.” His words were slow, thoughtful. He met her eyes. “Cat-Sister. Friend.” Tiwaz relaxed, releasing her held breath in relief. He held his hand out to the gromek. “Doom-Not-Demon also friend.”

Doom accepted the wolflen’s hand. “Thank you, Tracker.” He looked at Tiwaz. “You going to be able to make it?”

She snorted at him, flicking her tail at him as she walked over to the clearer area of the hole and leaped up. Nearly missing the ledge, she scrabbled a bit before pulling herself up and out. “I’m getting dressed. Tie the end of the rope to that thing. We should not waste it.”

Doom looked at Tracker as they worked together to secure the boar. “Will we make it to our goal in time to make it back before the others?”

The wolflen grinned, nearly as unnerving an expression on his face as it was on Doom’s. “Goal over rise. Easier path longer. Come from other side. Might not have seen this.” He patted the boar’s flank. “Meat for tribe.”

Tiwaz looked over the edge. “I checked the rope. It should hold so you both can get up. This food is more important than some contest. And we need to bind your wounds, Tracker.” Doom offered her his face scarf for makeshift bandages when he reached the top.

He secured the boar to his back while Tiwaz tended to their wolflen companion. Tracker then guided them to the hollow log on the low hill and pulled out a sack. Inside were a large gold ring decorated with a single, blood-red feather; a woven strip of colorful leather thongs decorated with beads and feathers; and a narrower strip of woven leather similarly decorated. “We just take these back?” Tiwaz asked, mildly perplexed.

Tracker shook his head as he took her hand and slipped the ring over her hand and up her arm. “Wear. We win, we keep.” He tied the narrow strip in a headband that fit him perfectly, then turned to Doom, tying the broad one to his off wrist. “Was made for us.”

“Even for Doom?” Tiwaz looked at the ring, touched and troubled equally. “But it was not until today I asked he be allowed to participate. How could anyone have known…?”

“Pack Leader wise,” Tracker said, looking away. “Pack always runs together. Cat-Sister and Doom-Not-Demon not wolflen. Are pack.” He sighed. “Tracker thought never need pack to hunt. Sire knew. Tracker stupid.”

Doom put his hand on Tracker’s shoulder. “No, not stupid. It is easy to think we can or have to do something alone, or we are the only one who can do something.”

Tracker stood up and stretched. “Others soon catching up. Must hurry back.” He caught Tiwaz by the shoulder. His words were slow, hinting at embarrassment. “Tracker still have much to learn before choosing pack to run with. Would Cat-Sister hunt with Tracker?”

Tiwaz looked towards Doom uncertainly. He nodded slightly, gesturing to her in mute encouragement. “Yes. I will hunt with you.” Bright red, she added in a rush, “We should hurry.” Tracker nodded and the three started running.