Jek Bright-Moon crouched in the underbrush. The crescent moon washed the forest in a gloomy light made worse by the growing shadows of a nighttime storm. At the sound of crunching grass, he turned his head and shifted the spear, worn with use, towards the noise. Tense, he scanned the darkness for more movement.

Next to him, his mate, Gesh Bright-Moon crouched, a scowl apparent on her lips. Jek could not help but smile. Dark tan and supple of body, Gesh, with her golden-brown hair and thick, protruding eyebrows, was the personification of the Wolf. Quick to anger and even quicker to love, she devoted her all and decried patience in lieu of desire.

Tonight, she desired her prey. It was she who had found the tracks of a herd of deer three days hence. It was Jek’s humble opinion that she was, by far, the best tracker in their small clan. Jek stepped cautiously forward as he heard a rustling between a cluster of trees two dozen yards off. He hefted his spear in his hands and began to flank the location from the left as Gesh began to mimic him on the right.

His stomach let out a low grumble. Jek could feel his mouth salivating at the thought of venison. It had been quite some time since he had been able to partake in meat. The winter had been long. Longer even than the Seer had predicted. Vegetables and fruits his clan scavenged for were shriveled corpses of what they could have become. The livestock they herded was too precious for anything under than the leather and cotton he and his wore to protect themselves from the elements.

Gesh clicked her tongue a single time. The signal. He crouched lower as he twisted his feet in a complex pattern to avoid the pressure they would cause on the forest ground. It was always dry as kindling right before a thunderstorm and by the distant rumble in the sky above, one was approaching rapidly.

He saw the dark form of Gesh, her hair braided in a single cord, stalk a motionless shape, outlined by the darker shadow of the two trees it stood between. She nodded as he settled back into a stable position. The bronze tip of his spear, tied with lambskin, glinted in the moonlight.

Jek clenched his jaw shut as he readied himself for what was to come. As if on cue, Gesh rushed forward and jabbed her spear towards the dark shape. A piteous moan arose from the point at which Gesh struck and Jek knew it was time for him to move. The shadow appeared to jump ten feet in the air directly towards his position right in the path of its retreat. Jek was ready though. He lifted his spear in a stoic manner and stared down the charging deer as it trampled through the forest underbrush like a mad hyena.

He thrust his spear forward and felt the wood jar in his hands as it went straight through the deer’s shoulder as it attempted to brush past him. Jek sidestepped the wounded prey but he made the mistake of continuing to hold onto the spear. He hissed in pain as the spear splintered in his hand as the deer crashed to the floor. The haft tore free from his hand and blood began to well in and among the numerous cuts on his calloused palms.

He cursed to himself as Gesh stalked up to her fallen prey and thrust her spear, once more, into its gullet. It bucked wildly for a single second before all motion ceased. The squelch of Gesh’s spear as she removed it from the deer’s neck was the predominant sound in the night.

Gesh cast him a single look as she removed bindings from a small pouch she kept on her waist. His heart faltered as he saw the pity in her eyes. Shame washed over him. Clan Chief always said she was the better hunter and he the worst. Perhaps it was true.

But, I did not fail this night. Mistakes can be forgiven. Only the Final Mistake is eternal.

His shame acknowledged, Jek turned his back to his mate. From his belt pouch, he retrieved a small, ivory dagger and began to remove the shame that marked him so. Slowly, he set the edge to the cut and bruised palm of his left hand and began to scrape the knife across it. The skin came away easy but the pain remained. Blood flowed in pools down his wrist and tears watered his eyes. Jek was careful not to let his mate see those tears for the shame of them would be insurmountable to overcome.

With more than a twinge of discomfort, he gripped the hilt of the dagger with his skinned hand and began to repeat the process. It wasn’t any easier and didn’t go any faster but it had to be done. The Gods had seen his failure this night and, more importantly, Gesh had as well.

He remembered the first time she had lain with him among the Celestials. It had been one of those days where the sun shone without heat and the grass sighed in lamentation. She was the bright spot. A beacon of light among her clan, even then, a decade hence, when both were just past nineteen summers old.

She came without provocation, without bounty, and without love. A mate like her desired the flesh of man for the bounty it could bring.

Just another shame in my life. Something I have never been able to provide her.

Perhaps, after all this time, she felt an inkling of love for him. He did not know. She was unlike him in so many ways. Strong where he was weak, charitable where he was stingy, and reckless where he was patient. Even now, he felt like she was distant and unknowable, and yet, he loved her. It was a love from afar, to be fair, but a love all the same. It would shame him greatly if he showed that love before she laid hollies at his feet. He wished she would do so but she never did. She was still as distant as she had been on that first night.

Gesh rose with the deer carcass synched tight against a long, tree branch she had found somewhere on the forest floor. She clicked her annoyance as, too late, Jek realized she wanted him to pick up her discarded spear.

Is she giving me a chance to win back my pride this night?

Jek considered her motivation as he hefted her spear, more worn and used than his had even been, into blood-caked hands. Light scabs had begun to form over the injuries and his hands felt stiff as he treked after Gesh and back towards the clan’s camp.

It was not a long journey by most accounts; however, Jek, wary of the night as he attempted to defend his mate, found the entire process taxing. By the time they returned to camp, he was worn and besotted by hunger so profound he had trouble standing.

Though, the looks Gesh had given him after they returned brought some life back to his limbs. There was a fondness and respect in her eyes as she saw the hardened blood on the spear he had gripped so tightly throughout the night. Perhaps, Jek’s shame might turn into a boon come morning.

He grinned wearily as a few Clan Elders took the deer carcass from Gesh and brought it over to a fire already kindled by nine rabbits and a squirrel. Their roasting meat fermented the air with a pungent perfume unlike anything Jek knew.

Like a cat drawn to milk, he walked through the erected tents with a nimbleness that might have surprised Gesh if she had followed him. He turned. Why hadn’t she followed him? It had been near enough four days since they last had a proper meal and she was dallying?

And they he saw. There was another man with his mate. He was tall, handsome after a fashion. Not unlike Jek. Jek had been admired by many before his mate had chose him. He wasn’t as tall as the man who had his arms wrapped around Gesh but he had the tan-dark skin, strong nose, broad shoulders, and grey-green eyes that marked him, by the Seer’s own words, as strong warrior. If only he could have prove those words to be true. Then perhaps, this other man, this tall wolf with pitch-black hair and defined muscles visible through his thin vest, would not have shamed him so. Gesh might not have shamed him so.

The hunger he felt only a moment before was gone. Numb, he shambled off to the tent they shared.

Would she return? Was her public display a message to me?

He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Depression, regret, and anger jumbled his thoughts as he lay down in the tent as morning broke good and true.

Gesh didn’t return all that morning. And every second the tent remained closed and the ground remained cold, Jek grew angrier. He knew his faults. They were shoved in his face every day. In truth, he was different from most near all of his clansmen. They thought him soft. Perhaps, he was. It was a shame he would have to bare. But, even then, Gesh should not have betrayed him so. There was shame earned and then there was what Gesh had done. He knew she had problems with him. Knew it deep in his bones. But she had chosen him.

It took many hours before he became calm enough to fall asleep; before he did, he thought a single prayer to any god that would listen be he beast, element, or celestial in the heavens above. It was full of anger, retribution, and justice for the wrongs done to him. He thought of the love he had of Gesh and how that love, betrayed by desire, lay broken at his feet. Tears blurred his vision as he sent out the prayer in a vain hope that someone, anyone would listen.

He felt a weight lift off his chest after he sent the prayer. His clan would do nothing for his cause. Gesh was beloved by the Clan Elders. She was a prime hunter and had done what many would have done by this point anyways, albeit, in a manner that was less unbecoming of one who held her status. His only hope, his final hope in fact, was for one of the gods to listen. And so, with his plea sent, he knew he had done all he could. And in that respect, he promised himself, with a strength of will that surprised even himself, he would not shed tears over his former mate. As he fell asleep, he touched his former shame and the scabs that covered it, as a sign of luck and hope for things to come.

Days passed. The sun turned cold and desolate as the grass browned once again. The clan trudged on away from the mountains that percolated the western sky and towards the rolling hills that might promise better bounty. Gesh had lain in Rook’s tent ever since that sorrowful night. Jek had never asked for an explanation nor was he given one. Gesh just left.

She seemed happy. It left a bitter taste in his mouth as she saw Rook and her return every so often from their frequent hunts always with a large bounty carried on their shoulders. Rook, Jek knew, was a decent warrior. By no means the best and far from the worst, Rook was adequate in most respects. His looks only made Jek’s animosity towards him and, specifically Gesh’s choice, grow as the days passed.

By the time the rolling hills flattened into a sturdy, rugged plain filled with bounty by the warmth of the sun, Gesh was expecting her first child. Jek’s bitterness had long since become an animalistic rage. The shame she had called upon him by her public betrayal had ostracized him more than he thought possible before. He was the last to be called to the fire and the first left behind when the clan move on. He was a leech on the clan’s back and it was all due to Gesh.

One night, after he returned from another fruitless hunt, Jek fell into a fitful sleep plagued by the ever present hatred he felt towards Gesh and her new mate.

He dreamed.

The world was covered in a shroud of mist as blackness, deeper than night, blanketed the scene before him.

The soft padding of feet alerted him to the presence of another. Jek tensed as a creature, larger than any he had ever seen, broke through the darkness and approached him with a steady gate.

The creature looked like a wolf. Its face curved down into a large snout, slick with a mixture of mucus and sweat, above a wide, angular jaw lined with jagged teeth. Its fur was matte black with a clear coarseness to Jek’s eyes despite the darkness of the dream.

Jek set his jaw as he faced the creature. It reminded him of Gesh. The smooth muscles of the creature juxtaposed Gesh’s lithe form. It's wet snout was the curve of a lip. Not to mention, the glint of its eye held a distance he was all too familiar with.

The creature padded around him with a suppline grace. As it sniffed for his scent, its wide snout touched the hair of his leg and Jek flinched back in alarm.

Curious. I had thought humans to be made of bark and rock. Not a child who is scared of his mother’s tail.

Jek’s eyes went wide with alarm. That was not his own thought. His eyes went to the creature before him and he realized with a sudden insight what this creature must be. With a quickness that astonished even himself, he sank to his knees in a deferential posture.

You are He who heeded my prayer. Are you not? My...God.

It felt odd to talk in his mind. It was as if he were the lake and the man casting the stone. He caused the ripples and he was affected by them. But, he did not control them.

I was interested in one who would fill the Void with such determination and malice. I had many notions in my mind when I heard your call. Many notions.

It tilted its head as it looked into Jek’s eyes with a remarkably human expression.

Some, I discarded forthright. Others, I still consider to this day.

Jek felt his eyes begin to water as the creature continued to peer deep into their recesses.

You must have decided to aid me if you are here.

The creature turned away from Jek as it considered the question. It’s tail swished through the mists creating a stir in the warm air of the dream.

I have considered doing so.

Jek waited for the creature to continue but, instead, it circled around Jek as if lost in thought. He waited as his patience waned. The mists continued to swirl and the darkness remained. Only he and the creature were visible in this shade of a dream.

You humans and your notion of Gods.

For the first time, Jek felt an emotion from the creature. Was that bitterness? It was a shock to feel as the sentence reverberated around in his head. His conversation with the creature, he could not yet think of it as a God, was so bizarre in comparison to that of his daily life. His clan spoke in emotions more than anything else. The clicks and gestures of their language were base. The vast expressive notions of thought were beyond the simple language of the Bright-Moon clan.

And perhaps, that is why my clan reviles me so. I look beyond their notions of acceptance and communal achievement and focus more upon my internal struggles.

With a sudden understanding, he realized why Gesh was so loved by his clan. She was not just the perfect hunter but the perfect clansman, as well. There were no inner thoughts that caused her to struggle with her social responsibilities. She fulfilled her duties and followed where the clan led. Perfect in every way possible.

Yes.

Yes? Yes what? Jek had no idea what the creature was responding unless...He shivered internally as he realized the only thing the creature could be responding to. And like a whisper from far in the distance, a thought crossed his mind.

He knows you. Everything you wished to hide, everything you hate about yourself, and everything you thought lost in memory.

That is true, as well, the creature said in his mind with a hint of bemusement.

I know everything about you Jek Bright-Moon. The good and the bad. Both were the cause of my caution and both were at the forefront of my decision to meet with you.

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The creature growled low in its throat.

And, I think, they are also the reason I have deigned to grant your plea.

Jek felt his heart swell at the response. It wasn’t hope, perse, that filled his breast but something akin to it. For so long, he had felt lost. He had clung to his tribe like a stray dog to a roving caravan. He had nothing and no one. If it wasn’t hope he felt, then it must be purpose. His life meant...something again.

Yet, I cannot allow you these gifts with a price.

Jek stood, careful to keep his head lowered to the monstrous creature. While he had not met a God…

Or something that claims to be a God

Others had experiences with matters of divinity. Carvings and other ruminations left from a time unknown depicted the strange and wondrous interactions mortal men had with these beings. Two things were clear. Gods could take on any form and mortals had a tendency to die in their presence.

And so, Jek stated his thought as clear as water.

What is it you desire from me?

The creature lifted its snout so it rested on Jek’s chin. He felt the urge to shiver and resisted it.

So eager, young one. But, perhaps that is best. Age makes you wise but it can also make you cautious beyond measure. I require an oath.

Jek stated, without preamble and without thought, I give it.

The creature tapped his leg with one of his forepaws.

Too eager.

Jek frowned.

This creature, this God, came here with the intention of aiding me but ever since arriving all he has attempted to do is forworn me against agreeing to his bargain. Is he not master over mortals? A hunter among prey? Why does he ponder the effects of his bargain?

The creature growled in annoyance. Shame colored Jek’s face as he realized he had insulted a God to its face. There would be no living this down. A simple scrapping of palms wouldn’t do here. He shivered. The removal of his shame would be up to the God. The God who he just insulted. Jek knew he was as good as dead; however, when the creature spoke, Jek was shocked beyond belief when it said,

Listen. That is all I require.

Listen? Such a light slap on the wrist for a crime as heinous as any I know?

Jek didn’t know what to say and so he stood, mute, as the creature turned away from Jek and began to speak.

Mortality, as many of your kind see it, is burdensome in its brevity. A mate whom one knew their whole life dies before he or she does. The pain burrows deep like a parasitic worm, gnawing and clawing at the fragility that is the consciousness. A clan, small and compact, wanders the snowy wasteland that is the north. The sun waxes behind the storm-riddled sky and their camp is pungent with the smoke of burning wood. Each night they light their fire pits brighter and brighter, and yet, they grow colder and colder. That is, until one after one, they die. Either from starvation, hunger, or strife, all mortals die.

But, the creature said as it turned in a circle before it lowered its haunches to the ground, they do not realize there are more burdens to longevity than to brevity. Loneliness is but just one consequence. Life becomes a burden and many of my brethren, out of internal struggles, end their existence. It is a long, hard road filled with loss. The high points of longevity do not outweigh the low points. And there are those. Points lower than one could wish upon his worst enemy. Things you must see, must do to survive. However, this is what I require of you if you so choose to accept my bargain. Your life will be long, long enough that everyone and everything you have ever seen will die and live again by the time you perish if you ever do. Even then, with the gifts I offer, death can befall you. Death, or something of its kin. You may wish, in due time, to also follow the path of my brethren. It is not a boon I offer you as some might suggest. Along with that immortality, comes servitude. To me and mine, you will become ours.

Jek understood little of what the creature spoke of. Emotions, he understood, but the philosophical ruminations of an ancient beast forewarning him against the price he must pay for aid? Jek understood none of it. And so, with a heart absent of any strong emotion, Jek accepted without truly understanding the consequences.

Jek could tell, as he uttered the oath required of him, the creature knew this to be so. Behind the its eyes that glinted like ivory, Jek could see more than a hint of sadness.

Let us say our goodbyes. When you wake, your boons will become apparent.

The creature and the blackness began to recede from his mind’s and, just before it did, Jek heard the creature say, In time, I will come find you. Not too soon, but soon enough. First, you must grow. Stay alive, young one. I’ll be watching.

~

Jek awoke to blinding sunlight and the sweet trill of birds. Without hesitation, he rose to greet the morning. It was odd, in a manner of speaking, to awaken after such an experience. The highs and lows of the dream were just that. The more moderate reality was grounded in truth rather than the mystical events of the dream. But, then again, Jek knew it wasn’t just a dream. A God had spoken to him, given a boon, and made him swear an oath. The first was intangible, the third a promise long in the future, and the second, well, he didn’t feel any different, did he?

He examined himself in detail. What he found was odd. His broad shoulders had been there since youth; however, the thick forearms that truncated out of those shoulders were not there yesterday. Jek had always been on the thin side. His frame hinted at a potential his body never seemed to want to acquire. The creature, no the God, Jek amended himself, had seen fit to alter Jek’s body in a rather drastic manner. Jek was unsure how he felt by the changes but he knew this was his opportunity. The opportunity he sought we he prayed for aid in this endeavor.

But, Jek’s mind was not as settled as he hoped. The opportunity the God had granted him was a gift. He felt the strength of his body as he cinched the lambskin belt around his waist; however, Jek knew there was more to this than bodily strength. A firm will to do what must be done and an ability to bear the consequences. Murder, for that is what it would be even though Gesh’s act called for recompense, was the highest shame among his clan. The clan would attempt to stop him. If they did, they would gut him like a fish and hang his guts out to dry. If they didn’t, they would still attempt to search for him and do exactly the same thing except with more vitriol involved in the process.

Rook had to die. Gesh, though, he did not believe he could kill her. For one, he still loved her no matter what he told himself at night. She had been everything to him. Further, she was carrying a child. An innocent. He could not countenance a child’s death on his hands.

The realization of what he was attempting to do shocked him. Even when this began, he had not considered death, the Final Mistake, and option for either of them. But, as his anger grew and solidified, it became the best, longest lasting option, to remove the shame Gesh and her new mate cast upon him.

Jek lowered himself back down to the base of his tent and shook with emotion. He didn’t know what to do. As if from the the ether, Jek heard, Young one, you have accepted my gifts but will not use them? Where is your bite? Will you not claw the one who brought you to yours knees?

Jek straitened.

God?, Jek stated in bewilderment. Had he not said he would be gone for some time?

Jek felt disapproval as he heard, Who else would speak to you with your own mind? Tell me, why do you fear the death of this man. The one they call Rook?

Jek wet his lips. Speaking to a God in a dream was one thing but, awake, it was the grounded reality he was so familiar with had developed long gouges through the center and he could see straight through to the blackness within.

The disorientating feeling that resulted from speaking with a disembodied voice did not help matters.

God, Jek said, murder is not something done...lightly. I have qualms about striking a fellow in anger and, in so doing, send him to the beyond.

Hesitation ill besuits you, young one, the God chided. Jek could picture the cold look in the creature’s eye as it looked down upon him in scorn.

Would you not strike down a deer to feed yourself? What about its calf? It is a child, is it not? I have seen you do such in your memories. Why then, do you hesitate now?

Jek struggled to explain. It should not have been so hard but it was. There was a difference. A profound one. Except, Jek had no words for it. He started, stopped, and started again. For a long time, he sat, unmoving, as he pondered the question. Finally, Jek said, with a conviction he hoped was real,

He is of my kind. It is...difficult to kill one you understand and have shared memories with. Pleasant they may not be but, in another life, another place, I could have been him.

Young one, this is a lesson all must learn in time. You know this man, this Rook, must perish by your hand and your hand alone for the shame he has brought you. No other man can or will do it. I have given you the power, maybe even the obligation, to see this matter through. It is true he is of your kind, he may even be of your blood, but kinship only goes so far in the life one leads. Choices make us all. Is it not true a man can have a bond with a dog stronger than one he has with another man? If given the choice, which would he kill? Rook must die, young one, and you must do it.

Jek rose. The God’s argument was sound; however, he lacked the moralistic component so ingrained in every man. Murder was wrong. Plain and simple. Jek did not rise due to the God’s argument. No, he rose due to the certainty that Jek would never be able to find an inkling of peace if Rook and Gesh stayed together. Whatever pain it caused him, it would be worth it to right a wrong done to him, even if he had to live as a murderer for the rest of his days.

The God, of course, heard Jek’s motivation but, he made no comment to dissuade Jek’s notions. It just watched as Jek wrapped a cloak around his now larger-than-life form and lift the cowl over his face. It also watched as Jek stored a long, ivory knife his belt pouch and left the tent to enter the maelstrom of clan activity.

Men and women were busy at work. Tent staves were being lifted, fires being doused, and horses being packed as the clan, once again, began to move south as it looked for greener pastures for the livestock and thicker forests for bounty.

Jek brushed past the maelstrom and stepped to the edge of the camp. It was still quiet here where the elders and families with children slept. They would rise in a few hours when camp was packed as their duties lay elsewhere.

Jek trudged past a few open tents, the occupants busy with their own lives, as he headed towards Rook and Gesh’s tent. He knew the location from memory. How could he not? It was ingrained into his mind like a splinter in skin. At all times, he knew their location. He knew what they were doing and, sometimes, in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind he thought about what they said or didn’t say about him.

As he reached their tent, his blood grew hot. Hotter than it had ever been. In the back of his mind, he realized this anger, this ferocity that he felt, must be from the creature he called God, but he ignored the realization as he brushed the tent flaps aside and tore free his knife from his belt.

Two forms lay in the sheets in the middle of the expanse. One, was a woman. Her long, golden-brown, hair lay in a splayed fashion as she rested on her side, one hand covering the roundness of her belly. Beside her, a man, muscles glistening in the sunlight, held an arm around her waist. Jek felt hesitation no longer. He had to do this. It was his purpose.

A low, animalistic growl emanated from his throat as he looked at the prone forms below him. A final hesitation beset him. A momentary doubt flashed in his thoughts as he readied his blade. The moment passed quicker than Jek liked.

Doubt makes our choices firm and clear. Without it, we are no better than animals.

He gripped the hilt of the knife with one hand and thrust it deep into the back of Rook just as he was beginning to stir. Blood sprayed in the air as Jek pulled the knife out of the man’s back. Rook turned away from the blade and groaned. It was low and muffled as the man’s face was ground into the dirt by the force of Jek’s blow. To Jek, it sounded like the scream of a wounded deer. Rook reached behind him and grasped Jek’s wrist just as he was about to plunge the knife into the man’s back for the second time. But, Jek was having none of it. With the power invested in him by the God, overpowering Rook was now within his ability, while once, it may have been a laughable prospect. Using his free hand, Jek took Rook’s hand between thumb and forefinger and twisted. There was an audible snap as Rook’s hand bent in an awkward, unnatural position. Without any more barriers, Jek thrust the knife down, once again, and buried it into the man’s skull. Any fight remaining in Rook was gone. He lay dead at Jek’s feet as a pool of blood seeped out of his wounds. Gesh had not stirred during the fight. She always had been a deep sleeper. Perhaps, it was best this way. Jek never wanted to hurt her, even now. And so, Jek stepped away from Rook’s body and made his way out of the tent. Behind him, he left a woman and her unborn child surrounded by her mate’s discarded corpse and a deep, freshly made, pool of blood.

Jek made sure to keep his face hidden under the cowl as he left the encampment. This would be the last time he saw his clan, the Bright-Moon’s. It would be a shame he would carry with him until his dying days. He wished he could have lived up to expectations here. He wished they could have accepted him for who he was. He wished many things. But, as he walked alone, in the opposite direction of the dwindling nomadic clan he had once called family, he knew he would never measure up to be their equal. For he was a murderer. No matter how much his God decried otherwise, a murderer held shame greater than that of other men. Jek knew, one day, he would be punished for failing to confess to the shame. But, not yet. He had obligations to fill. For now, he could hide his face from the world. It wouldn’t be much but it would be something. And so, Jek ventured forth through the seasons and, eventually years, waiting for his God to call him to task. He knew it would happen one day. Sooner or later, the God whom he called master, would demand his price, and Jek would be ready.