Gloom was about to set in as Teng reached the towering tree in the middle of the valley. After eating some of the dried meat in his bag, the young man found a strong, tall oak to rest inside. Once dawn approached, though still dark, he continued onward. The woodland gave way to rockier terrain, and vegetation, bushes, and trees became sparser. Soon, he found himself going up a slope.

Teng stared up at the mountain range before him. It seemed a mat of polished amber in the dawn light, over which thick clouds shrouded tall peaks. His eyes widened, and his breath caught. Something about the sight captured him, rooted him to the spot even.

Delia would love this sight. The thought of the young woman made him smile and even blush slightly. It was so unlike him to act in such a forward manner as he had done. Was it because of the rising blood from the meeting hall? After being called a boy?

Seeing the mountain range ignited the curiosity and anticipation of the boy he once was, too, but thinking back to his father's reaction curbed those feelings. "You've never been outside the valley, so you don't know what a true beast is. What we have here are just animals." The indomitable hunter, who didn't fear tigers, as scared as a boy before his journey? The thought was sobering. Teng made the decision to move his essence at all times. If there were threats, the impressions from the wind would be there to warn him.

Teng tightened the bag over his shoulder, hearing the supplies bounce around: some dried meat, a water bag, and the striped pouch with the feathers and bones. The meat and water would last a couple of days; after that, he'd have to hunt. Looking back at the valley one last time, his home, he exhaled a lot of air and started walking up the slope.

The air grew cooler and thinner the further he traveled. Not much happened that first day; everything was just a seemingly endless stretch of rock with the occasional small beast darting behind stones. Teng saw a variety of lizards, from brown to green, a rabbit-like creature that whistled upon seeing him, a few falcons curling above, and even a squirrel with a striking pattern across its fur. He also noticed tracks on the ground, and quite a few of them were there. This must be where the outsiders passed through earlier in the day. Even so, he could not see them ahead and understood they must be much further along.

A feeling of being watched made him look around, but nothing happened. The wind told him the same thing. There were only small creatures among the stones and boulders lining the slope and insects and bugs, though not as many as in the forest below

Teng slept briefly between two giant boulders as darkness fell upon the land. It was hard to navigate when you couldn't see further than a few steps ahead, but the young man started anew even if there was no sign of the dawn. The feeling of being watched appeared again, and a prickly feeling tore at his neck. He heard nothing, could see nothing, but felt an immediate sense of danger.

Teng threw himself to the ground just as something flew past him. Then nothing. There hadn't been a sound before and wasn't one now, as if he had imagined the shadowy form. The wind told him nothing either. Teng stood with his back against a large boulder, scanning the little of the ground he could see in front of him. His heart was almost up his throat, his fighting stick was ready, and he waited. Nothing.

Dawn came like a gift from the spirits. The feeling of being watched disappeared, and so Teng calmed down slightly. Whatever it had been, it must only hunt in the night. He continued up the slope, now much more varied than before. Soon, there was snow clinging to every other patch of rock, a white, almost silly-looking powder the young man had never seen before. He stopped, grabbed some of it, and laughed as some melted in his hand.

There had never been snow in the valley, just frost. Teng had heard about it but had yet to see it. He placed some upon his tongue. It was cold but fresh and tasty. Tasting some, he realized it was crunchy. Then he groaned as his head began to ache something fierce. Don't eat the snow; it makes your head hurt. Got it. The pain passed, and Teng continued ever onward.

Just as he was about to rest for a short time, the wind brought him impressions, and he stopped. Over the top, he saw a gigantic figure moving toward him. It was larger than a bear, standing on two feet, fur almost as white as the snow itself and hard to make out though the landskapet. Two blue eyes stared at Teng with hunger and delight as the beast ran faster than a beast of such size should

The young boy laid his pack down and crouched to get ready. The beast had been much bigger than he thought, and he saw this as it neared. It had hands and feet like him but vicious claws and fangs. Its fangs jutted out and were longer than his forearms.

He tried to anticipate the beast, but there was a sudden puff of snow, and the beast appeared before him. Teng dropped, evading a swipe that might have taken his head but was suddenly flung away. All air was torn out of him from the blow, and terrible pain made him almost cramp up. Then he landed, and the white landscape spun. The white visage of the human-like monster stood above him again in a puff of white snow. It seemed to grin. Teng tried to move but couldn't. Simply couldn't.

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A voice echoed through the dawn. "Hear now, fellow. That's no way to treat a boy."

The snow troll snarled, its head snapping up toward the source before it was suddenly launched through the air. Teng's chest heaved, confusion fighting with the relief flooding him. His gaze darted to an old man standing nearby, hair as dark as midnight. The creature's body crumpled against a boulder, an indentation in its chest like the blow of a giant's fist. Teng's own fear rose again, his mind flashing to the injuries he'd seen Pako suffer.

The old man, wearing a strange type of thin wrap over his shoulders, chest, and abdomen, along with something covering his groin and legs, walked over to where Teng's bag lay discarded on the ground.

Teng protested, but his words didn't reach the old man, who seemed lost in a trance. Suddenly, he was at Teng's bag, emptying it and sifting through the items. With a laugh, he pulled the feathers and bones from the pouch. "So that's what it was."

The old man appeared before Teng as if he was some sort of sprite. What was holding the young man to the ground vanished instantly, and the man pulled him to his feet, patting away the snow from his body.

"Freezing the snow beneath you, nasty beast… Hmm?" The old man squinted at him, his eyes slightly clouded by age.

Teng stepped back, wary. "Who are you?"

"Me?" The old man chuckled. "Who are you, laddie?"

"Teng. I come from the village in the valley."

The old man seemed to ponder this, then shrugged. "Never heard of it."

"You're not with them?"

"Who?"

"The outsiders who stole our sleeping guardian."

"Laddie, what in the Titans are you talking about?"

Teng was about to explain when the old man's eyes lit up. "Ahhh, you must mean a paragon piece. Now that you mention it, I did see a group of cultivators with something like that. Right around the time, I felt the essence gathering here. Imagine my surprise to find an infant snow troll and a boy like you. Spirits, though, a type of beast…?"

"Congregation? Cultivators?" echoed Teng, bewildered.

The old man squinted at him again. “Laddie, you don't know what cultivation is?”

Teng shook his head.

The old man let out a cackle as if Teng had made the funniest joke in the world, tossing the feathers and bones up and then catching them.

"About that," Teng said, still confused by the old man's words. "Can I have those back?"

"These…?" The old man glanced at the bones and feathers, then back at Teng. "These are yours?"

"To think one of the azure swarm… maybe this is what that old bastard was looking for out here…" the old man muttered under his breath.

"Sorry?" Teng asked, wondering if he'd heard right. Azure swarm?

"Nothing, nothing," the old man replied quickly, stretching out a hand, which made Teng take an instinctive step back. "Marekk's the name, laddie. So, tell me, how did you come by these loremarks?"

Teng hesitated, sensing caution was wise, took the man’s hair. "Loremarks?"

Marekk smiled, revealing very white teeth. "When a strong beast dies, it sometimes leaves traces of its essence technique behind. We call those loremarks. Rare, they are. Usually, other beasts get to them first—they can sense them from very far away like I did."

Teng took this in. Could this be why the wolves were so adamant about hunting me? And that was just with one feather…

"So, why'd you keep these loremarks if you didn't know what they were?" Marekk asked, setting his bag down.

Teng deliberated on telling the truth or not. A glance at the beasts that had attacked him told him all he needed to know. "I study them. They show me how to move my essence."

Marekk, who had started rifling through his bag, stopped and looked up, squinting. He seemed to squint quite often. "Really? Show me, laddie."

"Show you what?"

The old man pointed at Teng, then at the bones. "You say they taught you how to move essence. Show me."

"Why?"

Marekk tilted his head, considering. "How about this: I'll tell you where those people took your guardian if you show me."

Teng thought it over, then nodded, letting himself merge with the wind. Strangely, he sensed no impressions of the old man, only faint traces of the land and its small creatures. The white creature—still hidden from his senses—gave off no scent, only a chilling coldness.

"An auxiliary domain, impressive," Marekk observed. "Anything else?"

Teng released a flash of blue and punched out.

Marekk looked from the bone to Teng. "You didn't learn that from these."

Teng shook his head.

"And you truly know nothing of cultivation?"

Again, Teng shook his head.

“Most intriguing… most intriguing…” Marekk muttered.

After some time, the old man crouched and rummaged through his bag. He found what he was looking for: a small white bag. The old man's hand glowed slightly as it slipped through, though there was no opening to the bag, and Teng couldn't quite explain what he'd seen. When Marekk's hand emerged, the bones and feathers were gone. He tossed the bag to Teng, who caught it in midair and inspected it. It was a strange thing, this bag, with no opening—a white sac like the ones where snakes stored their venom.

"Tell you what, laddie. You've got me curious," Marekk said. "Tell me more about your village and yourself as l take you to those outsiders. And don't worry about the beasts—this bag here is made from a mirage viper's zac. Masks loremarks and keeps them hidden. But… speaking of beasts, did you know a snow leopard is tracking you?"

The words jolted Teng. His fingers tightened around the pouch as his gaze darted to the rocks, remembering the shadow from the previous night.

Marekk chuckled, almost as if amused by his fear. "Ah, to think there is such ignorance in this day and age…"