Booker hung below the water, surrounded by the darting bodies of white-water dragonfish. They were almost playful – the elemental beings delighted in watching him drown. Each time he fought for the surface, one would break from its spiral around him, slamming him back down. Each time, the impact made his eyes flash with white sparks, his vision blurring. He could no longer see the sun on the surface of the river. The cold water soaked through and froze his every extremity down to the bones, leaving him struggling to lift the numb weight of his arms.

Can’t die here…

But he was already beginning to drown. His vision, in the moments between impacts, was narrowing to a pinhole in a sea of black. His hand dug into his bag, planning to try and throw his spirit beasts free and spare them…

Booker’s fingers closed around a bamboo vial.

The burning moth chrysalis dust!

His eyes opened wide, a moment of clarity striking him through panic and desperation. Frantically digging through his pack, he threw aside vials he didn’t need, pausing only to read the characters he’d painted on them. Healing medicines flew away on the river’s current.

And then he saw – through a vision almost closed to black – what he needed.

Crushing the vial, he felt splinters bite through his cold-numbed skin, and spun to cast a handful of glittering red dust towards the darting, swirling elementals. The dust almost seemed to ignite underwater, reacting to the cold by blazing with a crimson light as it swirled out from his palm. A flash of heat rushed across his face.

And with a sudden terror, the elementals fled.

It’s a nullifying dust for the elements… Of course they’d fear it…

He pushed towards the water, already feeling that his arms were anchored to the bed of the river. But even so…

He had to fight.

Even though he couldn’t see.

Even though he could barely feel his limbs.

Although the last warmth in his chest was his beating heart, and even that was beginning to slow.

He fought until he could feel his head break the water, and gasped in, light coming back to the world as he heaved in his first breath in minutes. The world was all blurry, and the water was still carrying him swiftly, his fingers refusing to bend at all but shivering violently, but–

Booker was still alive.

He saw another branch hanging over the river – or no, he blinked, and it was an entire fallen pine. Pushing himself towards it with the last of his strength, he threw his satchel bag and used the strap to wrap around the trunk of the pine, tangling his body around the prickly autumn limbs of the tree. Using it, not even to haul himself up, but simply to rest against, his face pressed into the fragrant needles as he breathed in slowly, fighting the numbness in his chest. His mask was hanging around his neck by its cord…

Out of his bag, Snips climbed up and came to rest on his cheek. Zhu-Zhu and Froggy spilled out as well, water-logged, and he smiled at seeing them still alive.

Beautiful…

“Okay, okay…” His mouth shivered and his teeth chattered. If he stayed in the river much longer, the cold would kill him as surely as drowning…

So one hand over the other, he began to climb down the tree’s length, and up onto the muddy shores of the bank. As soon as he was out of the water he collapsed forward, and looked back to Froggy.

“Get… a fire going… need to warm up…” Booker said.

The frog hopped next to his face, planted a small three-fingered paw on his face, and brought flame billowing up from the craters on its broad, warty back. The heat was better than anything Booker could have imagined, and after a few moments of struggling to remain conscious, he managed to get his arms underneath him and push off the ground.

Limping – his legs were still struggling to bear their own weight – Booker dragged pine branches into a pyre and directed Froggy to climb inside and light the pyramid-stack of tinder. Fire licked up, and a blazing circle of warmth expanded. Booker sunk down next to it, warming his hands. Zhu-Zhu and Snips joined him, Snips drying his wings as Zhu-Zhu sneezed violently.

“Damn…” Booker rubbed his face, smearing away the mud and pine needles clinging to him. The feeling of his own skin so numb and cold was shocking. “Too close…”

He looked through his bag. He’d thrown out most of his common healing and exhaustion pills, but the most precious medicines were still there. Booker took one of the remaining restoration pills, feeling it enter his chest as a point of blessed heat.

The forest around him was a dense wall of pines. Once Booker’s limbs heated up, he stumbled back to the edge of the river and looked upstream, but he couldn’t even see the standing stones or the broken bridge.

If I call out…

Am I just advertising that I’m alone, weak, and tasty? There are too many beasts like the spider in this forest, and Xan and Fen will already be calling for me… If I can’t hear them… They probably can’t hear me…

I’m on my own.

Booker sat back down by the fire, warming his hands again. Even the winter air was painfully cold against his skin now. His body’s residual warmth had been sapped away, and now he was beginning to shake as the adrenaline left his system.

For a long time he simply hung over the fire, letting the heat slowly revive him.

Then – rousing him from a stupor that had his eyes half-closed – something moved in the forest. Booker glanced up sharply, eyes narrowing and focusing. Without a doubt, there was something moving between the trees. More than one…

Slow, threatening growls announced the pack of wolves even before their shaggy gray-black bodies emerged from the treeline.

Only normal wolves. Snips can take them. But…

In his exhausted state, even mustering his martial intent should have been a struggle. But somehow, the narrowing of his world down to strict terms of survival made harnessing his spiritual intent easier. Booker closed his eyes and easily slipped into a vision of living as a wolf, running alongside the pack in the mountains and steppes. The taste of red meat on his teeth. The warmth of fur as they slept in a pile, hidden within rocky caves scented by generations of forebearers making their dens among the same stones….

When he opened his eyes, the wolves had stopped. The leader tilted his head curiously.

They’re pretty intelligent. This might not work on them…

“Snips, be cautious.” He whispered, and reached into his pack for a piece of water-logged trail jerky. He held it out, offering it to the oldest wolf, visibly distinguished by white scruffy fur on their black muzzle.

The wolf slowly padded forward, sniffing the gift and the hand that offered it. Then, gently, it pulled the jerky away with its teeth, sitting down to snap and chew at the tough meat.

More wolves approached, settling down around the fire.

To his surprise Booker found himself surrounded by a lounging pack, completely at peace with his presence.

He pulled his pack under his head and lay alongside the fire, not allowing himself to slip into dreaming, but relaxing and letting the crackling heat of the flame soak back into his frozen skin. Dozing in a half-awake state, still ready in case danger struck again. But nothing more arrived…

— — —

Slow hours followed, and then the wolves stood up, ears perking to an unknown signal. Booker sighed and pulled himself up from his half-sleep, rolling onto his feet. He was still painfully cold, but Froggy had kept the fire burning bright, and he was better off now than he had been.

The wolves were heading back into the woods. Looking up towards the setting sun, Booker estimated they were heading roughly in the same direction as the medicine-picker’s village. This wasn’t unusual – most wolves in the valley were half-tame from mixing with dogs, and intelligent enough to understand that humans were a source of shelter against the dangerous cultivating beasts, who would happily wipe out an entire pack and chew the flesh from their bones.

Looks like we’re going the same way.

Shouldering his pack, he called Snips and Froggy back to him. “Zhu-Zhu!” But the mole was nowhere to be found. Sighing, Booker looked at the departing wolves. Well, I can’t leave him here alone… He gets in enough trouble with Froggie babysitting him.

“Snips, find Zhu-Zhu.”

Snips shot off, leaving a glowing trail in the air. Following it, Booker found Zhu-Zhu rustling about under the roots of a large pine, digging up blue-green mushrooms with an outer layer of thin white webbing. He snuck forward and plucked the mole up by the scruff of his neck, leaving Zhu-Zhu squeaking furiously as a treasure trove of mushrooms tumbled from his little paws and he was hoisted into the air.

“You.” Booker wagged a finger. “What would you have done if I left you behind, huh? Wanting treasure is all fine and good, but show some sense.”

Dropping the mole into his jar, Booker threw one of the mushrooms to each of his spirit beasts, and examined the two remaining in his palm.

Webfoot Brittlegill

Intact // Dull-Quality

A mushroom prized by beast tamers for its strong properties, and minorly effective when eaten raw. Poisonous to humans.

Beast Cultivation 5% (-)

Beast Cultivation 20% (+)

Minor Healing 10% (-)

Human-Killing Poison 5% (Water)

“Not a bad find.” He commented, before turning and hurrying to catch up with the wolves.

When he found them again they were prowling through the trees, moving unhurriedly. He walked alongside them, crushing the spongy beds of pine needles underfoot. After so much rain, water from the mud beneath filled his footprints as he went.

The forest was dark, but Booker’s eyes slowly adjusted. Although he was exhausted, letting the pack leave him behind seemed foolish, so he pushed himself to keep up – even as a fresh rain, thankfully lighter than the one last night, began to pepper the forest canopy above and sieve down through the branches.

He had been walking several hours, listening to the grumbling and growling of the wolves talking to one another, when he noticed their behavior change. Their ears perked up, and they swiveled towards a seemingly random direction. Booker looked with them, but saw nothing. The leader snapped his jaws and began to move faster, bringing the pack up behind him. Booker increased his pace but soon they were running, and he was struggling to clear the tangling roots that lay on the forest floor, threatening to snare his feet as he ran to keep stride…

They burst out of the trees into a field of tawny yellow grasses and wild cotton tufts. A wild antelope stood frozen, and suddenly turned and bolted away as it saw them break from the treeline. The wolves were hot on its heels, and Booker was trailing behind as they raced across the grass.

The chase lasted for breathless minutes, racing up and down the slopes of hills. Here in the valley, he could see the mountains and blue clouds above, the yellow grass below. It raced across pools left by the rain, hooves stomping up great splashes. By the time Booker reached those same pools, they had been churned to mud by the pack rushing through.

Booker was sweating hard despite the cold, his lungs burning as he ran on weakening legs. Today… Today really seems determined to beat the shit out of me.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

But as they cleared the grassland and darted between the trees of the forest once more, an enormous roar echoed above the canopy. The wolves came to a sharp stop. Looking around, Booker realized they must have entered another creature’s territory. The trees were slashed and torn, deep claw-marks ripped through the bark, and even Booker could smell blood in the air. The antelope continued running, vanishing through the trees.

The wolf leader’s lips drew back and it growled, prowling forward.

In a break among the trees, there was a torn and bloodied carcass on the ground. The body of a silver-furred deer, its ribcage torn open and its entrails scattered.

That’s…

A sacred deer. Just its blood is precious medicine.

But he wasn’t the only one who prized the meat of the dead deer.

Leaning against a tree, dragging its claws down the length of the trunk, was an enormous brown bear. Its muzzle was red and wet with blood.

It dropped down, turning its bulky body towards the wolf pack…

But they refused to back away, as Booker was sure normal wolves would when faced with an overpowering foe.

Instead, they advanced, spreading out into a ring. Bared teeth and raised hackles on both sides promised a fight any moment, but Booker was briefly distracted by a feeling inside the fold of his robes. An ice-cold sensation like a frozen dagger piercing his skin. He reached inside, and tugged out the qi-detecting talisman he’d made. It was covered in a thin sheen of frost and rapidly growing shards of ice.

His fingers suddenly stung where they touched the talisman, and he dropped it to the ground.

At the same moment, the wolf leader lifted up its head and howled, provoking the bear to rear up and roar.

Right…

Whatever’s going on here…

That’s not a cultivating monster, just a normal brown bear. One good Dialyze should end this.

One of the wolves dove for the bear’s hind legs, and it turned, swinging its paw down hard and catching the wolf across the face. It was sent rolling back, but two more darted in from the other side, leaping for the bear’s turned back and sinking their teeth in.

The bear simply thrashed the other way, sweeping its paws at the ground to ward off the rest of the pack from approaching as it heaved back and forth, swaying on its rear legs until the wolves on its back dislodged and went rolling away.

Booker was edging around treeline of the grove, hoping the wolves would distract from him…

The bear dropped down onto all fours, and bounded for the wolves’ leader. They shot back, the whole pack taking flight and circling around the bear at top speed, darting away as it turned left and right, lunging almost at random to try and catch them.

It wasn’t a human fight – a few heartbeat-quick moments of all-out effort. It was a fight of wearing-down, because here in the wild, even small wounds could spell a slow death. The wolves would keep away as much as they could, only approaching once the bear was at its weakest.

But the bear was trying hard to catch them, and its eyes were locked on the pack’s leader. It chased him full tilt now, its huge body moving with surprising speed.

And then the wolf tripped, tumbling over and over with a yelp.

“Snips!” Booker slapped his bag, and the mantis buzzed up beside him. “Go!”

A streak of light shot out, and before the bear could turn, opened a thin slash across its back. The bear’s hide was too thick for Snips to do any real damage, but it certainly distracted the beast. The bear reared up and swung in futile anger at the air.

It was enough time for the wolves’ leader to roll up and dart away, as Booker crept closer still.

Another wolf ducked forward and bit into the bear’s leg. The bear swung down, smashing it against the ground. The poor wolf let out a pained yelp as huge claws tore through its face and fur–

But it gave Booker the opening he needed to lunge forward and bring up his hand. Dialyze!

A swirling disk of water was born, and Booker sent it chopping forward into the bear’s right back leg. The blade cut straight through to the bone, and Booker threw himself aside as the bear toppled backwards and landed like an upturned beetle.

From him, nothing more was required.

The wolves closed in, attacking relentlessly as the bear tried to stand. Now it was lamed, and too slow to avoid being torn apart by a thousand biting jaws…

Although the wolf it had struck wasn’t climbing up again.

Booker sighed. This isn’t natural, right? Normally one side or the other would have ran away. This was a fight to the death…

At least I can end this quickly.

Although the wolves were able to keep the bear from standing back up, they weren’t able to do much actual harm. Its hide was simply too think. Waiting for another moment where the poor beast was distracted, Booker stepped in and lifted his hand once more. Dialyze!

His hand chopped down and the beast’s throat was opened in a deep red cut.

For a single moment the bear stared up, its black eyes reflecting hatred.

Stepping back quickly, Booker watched as the bear breathed its last. But something was definitely wrong. A foul stink was growing in the air, making the wolves whimper and retreat. Booker himself had to step back – it was truly revolting, making his throat seize and his guts revolt.

Through watering eyes, he saw something white appearing from the bear’s fur. Then another, and another, falling away like grains of rice.

Maggots.

In moments the bear’s entire body was covered by a thick, writhing layer of moonlight-pale maggots. Booker could only gag in horror as they spread out, covering the ground and the body of the dead wolf, the fallen stag. The whole pack was nervously whining as they padded backwards to avoid the spreading corruption, and Booker himself was retreating too…

And then the flood seemed to stop, or exhaust whatever was birthing it. The maggots sank into the ground and did not reappear, leaving the corpses and the forest floor stripped bare, nothing but bones and mud in a strange blackened patch of earth.

All Booker could think of was…

The time the moon sang to him and a bridge of light appeared, only to be revealed as a road of writhing maggots when he refused to answer the summons.

This is the same. I don’t know how, but it’s the same.

Nothing was left of the sacred deer carcass Booker had hoped to harvest. He grimaced. This whole affair was cursed from the start…

The wolves’ leader padded forward to nuzzle the skull of his dead child, and lifted his head to howl up at the sky.

— — —

Following the wolves for the rest of the day led Booker towards a series of caves in the mountainside, climbing uphill along treacherous paths the enormous gray beasts knew well. He saw many other packs along the way, all heading towards the same home – a place where the mountain rose up sheer and tall in a flat face of rock, split down the center by an enormous crevasse. It was within this darkened space within the mountain that the wolves congregated.

And to Booker’s surprise, he saw the thin light of a campfire within.

He glanced to the east, where he could see the rising smoke of a settlement, likely Kuei-Lan’s village – but it was too far to reach in the dimming evening light.

Pulling on his mask, he turned back to the mountain cave and called out, “Hello! I mean no harm, I’m lost in the forest!”

He saw a figure stand up behind the flame, casting an outsized shadow. Numerous wolves barked and howled within the cave…

“You smell like blood!” A rusted, rasping voice called back.

“I hunted alongside the wolves. They encountered a strange bear, and I helped them kill it, but its corpse was consumed by maggots.” Booker said calmly. For all he knew, an arrow was knocked to a bow and aimed at him at this very moment, but since the wolves seemed to instinctively know the bear as their enemy, he hoped this stranger who lived among the wolves would show some gratitude for his killing of it.

There was a pause, and then…

“Damn, a bear? Are they hurt? Come here, m’beauties…” Obediently the wolves padded forward, but Booker remained where he was and called out again.

“I’m sorry, but one of them didn’t make it. Can I approach?”

“Oh, my poor beauties. My poor darlings...” The voice crooned, not immediately responding. Booker could see the woman now, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. She was dressed all in animal furs bound to her body by twine, and her hair was shock-white, her face lined by wrinkles that were filled with shadows by the light of the fire.

“Miss?” He called.

She looked up. “Fine, fine. If you’re a friend of my beauties, you can rest here for tonight. It’s their cave, not mine, and they seem to like you well enough… But remember you’re a guest.”

“And a grateful guest at that.” Booker replied, clasping his hands and bowing before he approached.

“Hmph. You’ve got manners at least.” She squinted at him as he stepped towards the fire. She did indeed have a hunter’s bow, but Booker was glad to see it was still laying by the small tent that she probably called home. “What’s the mask for? You a criminal?”

“No. I have my enemies, but don’t worry, they’re not going to bother us here.” Booker replied, sitting down across the fire from her.

She was a wiry creature, all sinew and suntanned skin and bones. But Booker was more surprised to see the dark green-blue tattoos that covered her face and hands.

Talisman-marks?

I suppose she must have connections to the old people of the valley.

“Hmm. Good manners, but a valley accent.” She mused, biting her tongue into the side of her teeth. The wolves were all around her, nuzzling up for attention as she investigated their coats and tutted at the wounds they bore. Retreating into her tent, she came out with a shallow clay pot of salve that she applied to the cuts. “For the record, I couldn’t care less if you’re on the run or not. Nobody bothers me, and I don’t bother nobody.”

A caretaker. I guess it’s unsurprising they were so friendly…

“I appreciate that. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, once it’s light enough to make my way to town.” Booker replied. “But if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did I encounter in the woods? That bear seemed cursed…”

“It was.” She grunted. “This valley is sick, child. Make no mistake. You seem educated, so I’m surprised you’re so ignorant of this. We folk of the valley are cursed. We were born cursed, and whole generations will die cursed, before that curse finally starves itself out.”

“And the animals?” Booker asked. “Are they cursed too?”

“Yes. It can take anyone, anyone at all. And it will use them till they’re used up, and then let its maggots eat them alive.”

“Is this curse… related to the moon?”

She looked up sharply. “Maybe not so ignorant…” She clucked. “How do you know that?”

“I think it tried to take me, once. I saw a bridge of moonlight, but after I refused, it became a bridge of maggots.” He hadn’t told anybody about what happened to him, but that was because he doubted any good could come of mentioning it before now.

“Haaaa…” She paused, looking him over more carefully. The firelight reflected in the dark of his eyes. “Then you have a strong soul. But you’re shivering, child. Hold on.”

She retreated into her tent, and returned with a gourd of wine. Popping the cork she took a deep swig and offered it across the fire.

Nodding in gratitude, Booker lifted his mask up over his mouth to take a drink, feeling the rough wine burn his throat. “Thank you. I didn’t imagine when I followed these wolves home that I’d find such a generous welcome. Truly, I am grateful for the wine, and for anything you can tell me about this curse.” If this curse can reach all the way from the valley into Mantis City, and nobody is issuing warnings, then it truly is a danger to me… and possibly many others…

“It won’t trouble you again.” She shook her head. “Or… it won’t try to possess you, at least. I don’t know what exactly it wants, except that it’s been killing the sacred deer of the valley. My darlings hunt down the creatures it possesses, but they can only do so much to protect the herds.”

“Ah, there was a silver deer corpse nearby.” Booker nodded.

“Damn.” She muttered. “There’s too few of them left, these days. Their hearts… their viscera… all of it sacred to us valley folk. Their blood consecrates our most holy rituals, and the curse hates them.”

“You said before it would starve itself out. Is it a matter of who starves first, then, our rituals or the curse?” Booker guessed.

“Sharp, sharp. Yes, that’s just how it is. The curse strangles us and we choke it right back. Some day, one of us will breath our last. Our weapons, prayer and talisman, constrict it, so it tries to tear the practices and religion of the valley up by the roots.”

“I see.” He was silent for a moment, before he asked. “You said it began generations ago. Do you know how it began?” It has to have had a beginning somewhere, but things are lost to time all too easily. With how many times the valley has changed ownership… It’s possible all the details have been forgotten.

“No.” She admitted. “I only know that this recent plague, the possessions, started soon after the rise of the Mantis Sect. The curse was here long before they arrived, but it had no teeth. It was weak and nearly forgotten before those damned idiots stirred the pot.”

Something dimmed the thin evening light coming from the entrance of the cave. Booker turned to look, and a massive wolf was standing at the entrance. Lightning-white and gray-blue fur covered a body the size of a school bus, with a massive shaggy mane and a panting tongue. She stunk of blood, and there were deep cuts across her sides, ragged patches of fur and flesh hanging loose as crimson gore dripped to the ground…

“Ah, my poor baby…” Gathering up her medicines, the old woman rushed to the beast’s side as the enormous wolf settled herself onto the cavern floor. Booker did not approach. The wolf’s aura was oppressive, and it was clear her hackles were still raised from combat.

He doubted the whistling trick would work on a beast that could so clearly cultivate.

“Make yourself useful!” The wolf-woman called. “There’s a waterskin in my tent. Bring it to me!”

He complied, kneeling to make his way into the shallow-roofed tent and looking about until he found a heavy waterskin. Making his way over to where the old woman was soothing the beast, her hand atop its massive muzzle, he edged nervously towards the wolf until he could hold out the skin.

She shook her head. “I’ll soothe her… You pour it over the wound. You’ll be fine.”

He grimaced, but went to do so. Uncorking the waterskin, he smelled something sweet and purifying within, the book flipping open to reveal…

Thousand-Nail Fragrant Springwater (Dull)

12% Potency // 7% Toxicity

Effect:

A stinging elixir named for the pain it causes. Purges the influence of curses, diseases, and demonic magics. Extracted and diluted from the stings of poison-devouring insects.

Ingredients:

Maiden-Centipede Venom

Sanctified Spring Water

Seven-Year Flower Syrup

Ah. To keep the curse from infecting her, I see…

Cautiously and slowly moving to the massive wolf’s side, he poured a stream of clear water against the wounds. Instantly a foul-smelling steam erupted, and the wolf let out a thunderous growl.

“Shhoosh. Shhh. You big baby.” But the woman only stroked the wolf’s snout, wrapping her arms around the massive jaws to keep them from opening and biting at him.

He continued to bathe the wounds, black rot oozing to the surface and dripping down alongside the blood. It dissolved almost as soon as it touched the ground, but Booker was careful not to let any of it fall on him.

After the wounds were clean, the old woman instructed him to fetch strips of bark, which were adhered over the cuts with a sticky salve. The bark itself was from an antiseptic tree, staving off disease, and Booker had to admire the rustic medicine the old woman used to keep her ‘beauties’ healthy.

When it was all done, she waved for him to come stand by the wolf’s jaws, and grasped his hand in her withered grip, laying his fingers over the white-streaked fur of the muzzle. It was incredibly soft, and although having the beast’s wheel-sized yellow eye fixed upon him evoked a primal fear, Booker forced himself to relax as he ran his hand through the silken furs.

“This is River Fang, who protects the valley. She knows your scent now.”

“And your name?

For some reason, that made the old woman laugh. “I don’t have one. Not anymore. River Fang is my family, and I know the howl she makes when she needs me. That’s enough.”