Ardi approached the sleeping Ergar carefully, his belly barely touching the cave floor. The Spirit of the Day had just begun to awaken, and the snow leopard was resting after a long hunt — they had been tracking the herd for three days, studying their habits, feeding grounds and watering holes, and so his teacher was resting now. The same could not be said for the young hunter, whose energy, according to Ergar, was boundless enough to give birth to another Spirit of the Day.

The young hunter made sure the wind was blowing into his face and that his shadow didn’t fall on the snow leopard’s eyes. And when his prey seemed almost within his grasp, the hunter leaped. He even managed to wrap his arms around Ergar’s mighty neck and nip at his ear before the leopard twisted, lashed out with his paws, and pinned the cub to the ground.

“Ouch! Stop it!” Ardi began to struggle, but Ergar held him down too tightly. “I’ve already washed!”

But the snow leopard’s rough tongue, only slightly softer than dried pine bark, didn’t care. He continued to lick the cub’s back and chest, turning them red and leaving little crimson scratches behind.

Ardi laughed and tried to push the snow leopard’s snout away, but all his paws could do was spread Ergar’s cheeks, making it look like he was grinning foolishly.

When the morning washing ritual was finally over, Ergar nudged the laughing Ardi with his nose.

For a while, they lay in silence, basking in the dawn’s rays that bathed the mountains in a gentle fire, which was far more pleasant than the leopard’s tongue.

“Beautiful,” whispered the young hunter as he watched the broad-winged eagles pierce the high clouds. They soared from their high nests and glided over the Alcade, free and mighty, able to cover distances in a day that would take Ardi weeks.

But now they flew downwards.

They were heading past the Stairs, below the Foyer, to where the forest was still shaking off the snow. The branches were already wearing green sweaters, and the ground was gradually smoothing out its brown and rust-colored pants. The Alcade welcomed the early, wet, cold spring with drizzles and winds, storms and tempests. The air grew sweeter and warmer, the snow retreated higher and higher toward the mountain peaks, and the quiet streams gained strength, soon to become raging rivers.

“Our Queen goes to rest,” Ergar murmured through his drowsiness. “Her sister awakens, and with her, her subjects. The mountains sleep and the forests awaken, little hunter. Such is the endless dance of our land.”

Ardi nodded as if he’d understood something there. In truth, much of what Ergar told him often remained a mystery to him.

“How are your claws?”

“Oh!” The young hunter exclaimed, slapping his thighs. “Right!”

He ran to the far end of the cave, where he had set up his little den. There were some stones there, crystals, a few beautiful feathers dropped by unknown birds, two mountain troll fangs, and a shard from an ogre’s club. But even among these countless treasures, the claws held a place of honor.

For the last twenty visits of the Spirit of the Day, Ardi had been working on them, much to Ergar’s constant disapproval. At first, he had been vehemently against it, but eventually, he had shifted from anger to an almost imperceptible disapproval. Almost imperceptible because, instead of reminding Ardi every day that this was unworthy of being part of a hunter’s way, Ergar had started doing it every other day.

In general, it could be said that the apprentice had almost received his Master’s approval.

Ardi picked up a pair of gloves made from the hides of the lower slope ibexes — they had the same toughness as the highland goats, but were more pliable. After ruining two full hides and three skeins of sinew, he had finally managed to sew two gloves. Fortunately, he’d still remembered those scenes from a forgotten dream. It seemed like someone he’d once known had done something similar a long time ago.

The young hunter had a poor memory.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would wake up with a wet face and the taste of blackberries on his lips. He had no real idea why.

But the gloves weren’t the end of it. Ardi had retrieved many long, slightly curved, brown stones from the bottom of a frozen stream. Once again, he had been remembering the lessons of an old hunter, things he’d learned before Ergar had taken him in.

The old hunter had told him that such stones could be used to make weapons or tools, as their ancestors had done. Which ancestors exactly, the cub couldn’t quite grasp.

Well, he knew that he was different from Ergar.

He didn’t have such thick and beautiful fur, his tail didn’t grow, and his paws looked strange. But that was because he was still young and hadn’t grown up yet. But one day, when he was strong enough, he would be just like his Master — he, too, would be the terror of the mountaintops.

The fiercest and most powerful of predators!

But back to the gloves.

The young hunter, who’d scratched his skin up quite badly, broken many stones, and ended up spending a few more strands of ibex sinew in the process, had also managed to sharpen the stones and insert them into his gloves.

Even so, his first game with Ergar had shown him that his claws couldn’t withstand a prolonged fight. They either broke or fell off. And so Ardi had had to make a harness with a dozen spare stones, which he always carried with him on the hunt now.

“Here!” The young hunter presented his creation to his Master for judgment.

Ergar lowered his head, sniffed, snorted, and turned away with a wrinkled nose.

“This is a disgrace to the ways,” Ergar growled. “If you ever meet anyone who asks you about it, never say you’re my apprentice. My fangs will fall out in shame.”

Ardi didn’t point out that his Master was already down a fang and only had three because he had given one to his Hunter-Parent at the end of his own training. And now Ardi wore it around his neck.

The Spirit of the Day quickened its pace, and the cave was bathed in warm light. The snow leopard sprawled out on a rock, exposing his tired body to the generous rays in the hopes of recovering after their long hunt.

“Go,” Ergar grumbled, twitching his whiskers in annoyance. “You have five visits.”

“But the descent to the expanses alone will take a full visit’s travel!” The young hunter protested immediately.

“Then you’d better hurry,” the snow leopard snorted, twitching his nose from side to side — this conversation was over.

Ardi hissed a little, but his feeble attempts didn’t make his Master so much as flinch. He didn’t even twitch a whisker. So, the young hunter had no choice but to grab his harness with his spare claws, his gloves, and head for the Stairs.

If he wanted to play in the wilderness, he would have to hurry. Unless, of course, he wanted to disobey Ergar’s instructions.

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The last time he’d done that... He was left with a few shallow scars on his back, which were supposed to serve as a reminder not to anger his Master and engage in what Ergar called dangerous mischief.

But it hadn’t been dangerous at all! The cub had merely estimated where Lenos’ lair was and dropped an icicle on the foolish ibex. Who would have thought that this would trigger an avalanche...

When he was almost at the exit, Ardi was stopped by Ergar’s words:

“If you get into trouble, whisper my name to the fang, but remember, Ardan, if you do that, you’ll never go anywhere alone until five snows have passed.”

Five snows!

The young hunter shook his head. That was an awfully long time!

“Alright, Master!” He waved a paw, thinking that he would surely never have to call for help.

Besides, what could happen to him? He knew how to hunt and how to negotiate with other hunters. So, the worst thing that could happen was that he might not make it back in time. That meant that, as his wise Master had already said, he should really hurry!

Ardi adjusted his harness, making sure the knot was tight enough not to come loose at the first opportunity. And knots were like hawk chicks — they only caused trouble. But this time, the young hunter had anticipated all the possible issues that could hinder his first great solo journey.

He dashed out of the cave and took a deep breath of the air, which was no longer so frosty, but still scratched his throat. It was coming in from the eastern and southern peaks of the Alcade, promising impending floods and storms, but the rainy season was still a few weeks away, which was why Ardi had decided to venture forth now.

Admiring the golden dawn, which was greedily gnawing off large chunks of the star-studded western sky, the young hunter ran downhill. His paws were light and free, sinking slightly into the snow and sometimes piercing the most delicate parts of his skin. Ardi was waiting for fur to grow there so he wouldn’t lag behind his Master even in the harshest of weather.

Passing through the wide Foyer, which had been swept clean by the advancing spring that was clearing away the ice and snowdrifts, the young hunter approached the Stairs. They were a series of stone ledges that led straight down to the base of the mountain. Even in cloudy weather, when his Master had said that the spirits of the rivers and lakes danced with their cloud brothers, Ardi usually wasn’t afraid and had even tackled much worse slopes, but now...

His heart sped up and his breathing became a little more ragged. He looked down at his claws.

Maybe Ergar was right and-

“Cub,” a whisper came from above him. “Have you decided to spread your wings and leave the nest?”

The young hunter looked up. There, near the peak, perched on a rock, was Kaishas, the four-winged eagle, called the Eyes of the Clouds. They had crossed paths a few times on hunting trails, and among all the other hunters, Kaishas seemed to be Ergar’s best and only friend. Ardi had never really seen them argue longer than... well, longer than Ergar usually argued with and grumbled at everyone whose hunting trails crossed his.

“Hello!” The cub waved a short paw. “You’ve decided to stretch your wings a bit, too?”

“Stretch them a bit indeed,” the eagle’s beak twitched mockingly. The eagle was the size of a small boulder, and its wings were so wide that when it flew low over the ground, it cast a truly huge shadow. That’s how the cub usually knew when Kaishas was visiting. “My wings are always ready to traverse the paths between the clouds, little hunter. I don’t need to stretch them or... curse it! You again!”

And Kaishas reached with his beak toward the feathers of one of his wings. The eagle grumbled as he cleaned out either dirt or insects from his wing, or maybe it was someone’s bones or dried blood.

“Let’s race, Kaishas!” Ardi laughed. “Whoever wins-”

A black shadow flickered above the young hunter. Four mighty wings flapped so hard they launched a blanket of snow that reached almost up to Ardan’s chest.

“You’ve already lost!” The eagle cried out, disappearing ahead of him.

But the cub wouldn’t be Ergar’s apprentice if he gave up so easily. Shaking off the snow and still laughing, he ran after him. He skirted wide, snow-covered boulders, leaping over streams that had stretched out lazily under the caresses of the young Spirit of the Day. Their icy surfaces had begun to melt, and the sleepy water flowed reluctantly, in small trickles, down to the forest floor.

Ardi practically flew over familiar cracks and crevices, but unlike during the snow season, he did so much more carefully, choosing narrower spots when unsure of his strength. This, of course, gave the pesky Kaishas an advantage.

The eagle would sometimes hover in the air, almost mockingly spreading his wings in the wind currents and teasing his rival:

“I’d say you’re crawling, Ardi, but even compared to a sleepy marmot, you’re too slow.”

Ardan scooped up clumps of snow with his paws and threw them at his rival, but Kaishas dodged lazily and continued to mock the young hunter’s attempts.

They raced on for several hours, until Ergar’s apprentice suddenly found himself at the very edge of the Stairs. The Spirit of the Day, almost at the center of its domain, sent sharp rays into Ardi’s eyes.

Placing a paw on his forehead to shield himself from the light, the young hunter looked down. Indeed, it would take him the rest of the day to descend the Stairs, and running along the wet, sometimes icy ledges would be unwise.

Unless he wanted to hurt himself in a nasty fall, of course. After that, his Master would probably never let him go beyond the confines of the cave again.

The hunter kicked a small stone and watched its descent carefully. It hit sharp ridges, bounced off wide platforms, and sometimes slid across smooth, sunlit ice sheets. Even if he hurried, Ardan would still...

“Do you want help?”

Mighty wings flapped, and the Eyes of the Clouds landed beside the young hunter. When they were side by side like this, Ardi was made aware of the fact that, even if he stood on his hind legs, he still couldn’t match Kaishas’ intimidating size.

“How can you help?” Ardan asked curiously.

The eagle tilted his head to the side, his strange eyes blinking, and his upper right wing extended toward the forest. From up here, it seemed as if Kaishas could cover it all with his mighty wings: from the pines shaking off the last blankets of snow, the leafy paths that had all but forgotten the Spirit of the Day’s greetings, the streams that crawled lazily across the ground, shedding their icy coverings, and even the very eyes of this vast landscape — the endless lakes.

Ardan had only just thought about how he wouldn’t mind some help when the eagle’s heavy claws wrapped around his forearms, lightly scratching his skin. And the next thing the young hunter’s mind could comprehend was that he was no longer walking across the snow. The white, wet and almost insubstantial surface underneath Ardi’s amusingly flailing paws turned out to be clouds.

They stretched out into serene hills as the hunter followed the paths of the birds. The wind cut into his eyes and hooted in his ears like an angry owl. But Ardan didn’t notice. His arms outstretched, he raced through realms unknown to him, and perhaps to most other land hunters as well. Below him, the Stairs zipped past, and the icy fangs of the Alcade Mountains glittered, suddenly so small and humble, and Ardan screamed something.

He was howling at the top of his lungs and smiling from ear to ear. Kaishas laughed as only those who were able to bring home an old friend could laugh, knowing that now they’d understand each other better.

And Ardi walked on. He pushed off cumulus clouds, glided over feathery clouds, jumped from one to the next, and eventually, they climbed so high that the heat of the Spirit of the Day nearly burned his skin.

“Ready?” Croaked the eagle.

“For wha-oooooo!”

Ardan’s question, which turned into a scream, tore through the Alkade sky. Kaishas folded his wings, and with ears still full of whistling, tear-filled eyes, and joy in his heart, the young hunter plummeted to the ground. The earth changed places with the sky, spinning in a dance of fragments of reality that the cub could now see and understand. But he was not afraid. On the contrary, he felt something... something...

The smell of some berries and something... something edible. Something he liked. He felt like it was called-

“And here we are.”

Ardi realized that they were no longer flying or falling. Instead, with his arms now outstretched, he felt not sharp stones biting into his flesh like hungry ants, but actual ants instead. The little pests were climbing onto the young hunter’s body, making him grunt from the unpleasant sensation.

Ardan jumped to his feet, shook himself free, and nearly fell onto his backside. His head spun and his lungs swelled like sacks. Down here, the air was much richer than even on the Stairs, not to mention the hunting grounds of Ergar and his apprentice.

“You’re on your own from here,” the eagle spoke through the ringing in his ears. “Don’t get lost, cub.”

Ardi wanted to shout words of thanks and clarify that he wasn’t a cub, but instead, he burst into a coughing fit and fell into the dewy grass. Kaishas just laughed, and after a few heartbeats, he had disappeared into the clouds that seemed to be frozen in the sky.

The young hunter smiled and closed his eyes, lying down in the grass. It was much softer than the sharp rocks of the cave and much warmer than the snowy beds of the mountain trails. And the smell... It smelled of something... something... Ardi couldn’t remember what, but he felt like he knew that smell — he had smelled it before. A long time ago. Perhaps in a dream... or in a dream within a dream.

The wind was blowing. It was nudging heavy cumulus clouds that mockingly took the shapes of birds and animals. The crowns of the fir trees whispered incessantly, the creaky birches chuckled, and the young leaves, just now emerging from the swollen buds of the maples and oaks, stretched lazily to greet the spring dawn.

Ardi stretched, yawned, but managed to overcome the sudden warmth that had wrapped him in a cozy fur coat. The young hunter jumped to his feet, making sure there was still plenty of time, and ran into the forest to play in the wilderness.

He didn’t know that someone was approaching the clearing.