At first, Ardi thought a moss-covered boulder had rolled out of the forest, coming to a stop with a thunderous roar that would make even the fiercest of spring storms bow before its awe-inspiring might. The water of the stream foamed and rose up in a wide wave, splashing the wolves. They pressed themselves against the ground, baring their teeth, but Ardi’s keen eyes could see that they were shaking almost as much as the pebbles that were arrayed around the newcomer.

He raised a massive, brown paw and brought it down in front of him. The treetops shook and moved their branches toward the wolves, whipping them across their backs, bellies, and faces. The wolves spun between the now animated branches, jumping and weaving while trying to bite at the whipping wooden strands, but it was all in vain.

“Guardian!” Shouted the leader of the pack, his face now marked with fresh, red cuts. “This is our prey!”

“Is that so, mad one?”

And then, just behind the wolves, something emerged out of the forest like a fierce bolt of lightning slicing through the sky. Its fur was patterned with green, reminiscent of a forest that was just awakening and glistening with the emerald dew of the cold dawn.

The creature growled, and this time, it was not the branches that came to life, but the grass. The verdant blades entangled the wolves’ paws, throwing them to the ground and piercing their flesh with countless sharp edges.

“We’re leaving!” The leader howled. “Right now!”

After barely escaping the grassy trap, now wounded, battered, and bloodied, spurred on by the whipping branches, the wolves fled into the depths of the forest, but Ardi was still able to hear their yelps and cries for some time.

Still clutching Ergar’s fang, Ardi looked closer. What he had at first thought was a boulder turned out to be a bear. But he was much bigger than any bear the young hunter had ever seen. Standing on his hind legs, he almost reached the center of the nearest pine tree. His paws ended in far more claws than nature had intended, and his body was as broad as a mountain cliff.

But the strangest thing was his fur. It looked ordinary, brown, thick enough to keep him warm in the cold and to ward off blows. However, it... also sparkled? No, Ardi was mistaken. It wasn’t the bear’s fur that was sparkling, but something that had covered it. It was as if the bear had torn a piece out of the western sky with his mighty paw at the exact moment it had first been kissed by the Spirit of the Day. This blue-gold robe, sprinkled with sleepy stars and adorned with the patterns of the spring winds, seemed to soar in the glow of the fading night.

Ardi turned and then froze even more, if that was possible in his situation.

On the other side of him stood a lynx. She was barely smaller than Ergar, who was as big as two snow leopards standing on each other’s shoulders. The tufts on her ears had hardened to resemble tall clumps of grass, and her gray fur was marked with the ever-changing patterns of fresh leaves. They danced across the surface of her fur, sometimes merging into something... something... called a symbol?

“Who... Who are you?” Ardi said, completely forgetting all the lessons and instructions of his teacher.

“By the Queens...” The lynx hissed. “What have they done to our little Ardi?”

“It was all Ergar,” the bear’s deep bass rumbled. “He hid his heart.”

They knew his name? But how? These strange creatures didn’t smell like animals, didn’t look like animals, and even their voices didn’t sound like those of animals.

“Are you two Sidhe?” Ardi asked, his voice quieter now, and as the strange creatures moved toward him, he shouted, “Stay back!”

He held out Ergar’s fang as if it could protect him.

The young hunter didn’t know who these Sidhe were, but he could sense the danger in their words.

The lynx and the bear exchanged glances.

“Squirrel,” the brown giant rumbled. “This is a task for you.”

And in an instant, a squirrel appeared before Ardi, standing on the pebbles in front of him as if it had been there all along. A red squirrel, with funny stripes like a raccoon... or rather, it had spots. Spots, not stripes. Skusty had always said that stupid hunters confused spots with stripes.

Skusty... Who was Skusty?

Ardi’s gaze was drawn deeper into the squirrel’s black eyes. They were too big, the size of a yard cat’s.

A yard cat?

He knew forest cats, mountain cats, even steppe cats — they sometimes came to the foot of the Alcade when there wasn’t enough prey in the steppe.

Why did he know all of that? Was he remembering something?

The squirrel’s eyes penetrated deeper into his mind. Sometimes, they seemed to encounter a barrier in the form of a fierce roar that shook the mountain peaks, but they didn’t fight it. They flowed around it instead, reaching deeper into Ardi to uncover more and more knowledge. Or was it simply old knowledge that had been buried?

He remembered the old hunter carving figures with a strange claw. He recalled how he’d once listened to the echoes of the mountains, the laughter of the river, or the whispers of the forest. How he’d taken snow from distant peaks, shoveled whole lakes with his hand, and asked trees for a few turns of their roots. And in all of this, there had been names. The names of his friends with whom he’d played until... until...

Something hot burned Ardi’s cheeks, and inside, somewhere deep in his chest, a searing pain erupted, as if a red-hot iron rod had been driven into his body. An iron rod? How did he even know what iron was...

“ENOUGH!” His teacher’s roar thundered in his ears.

And all of these memories, except for the three wooden figures, were immediately forgotten like yesterday’s dream.

The squirrel... no — Skusty, staggered and fell on the pebbles. Ardi immediately jumped to him and lifted him gently onto his paws. For a moment, the young hunter thought Skusty wasn’t breathing, but then he coughed, spat out something silvery, and wrapped his tail around Ardi’s paw.

“Damn... snow leopard,” the eternal trickster whispered. “Didn’t want to share you.”

“Share me...” The young hunter repeated.

He looked at the bear. At his fur, at how warmly his deep, glistening eyes shone, and how his muzzle curved into a friendly, carefree smile.

“Guta?”

The bear nodded and got down on all fours. He turned his head to the side and smiled even wider. And suddenly, Ardi felt so warm inside, his body enveloped in a soft sleep. It was like when, at dawn, sleep barely leaves you on the path of the Spirit of the Day, but doesn’t rush to leave completely, letting the last seconds on that border between harsh reality and fairy-tale oblivion linger.

Ardi turned to the lynx.

“Shali?”

She glided effortlessly over the foaming crests of the swift stream as if they were firmer than stone. She approached and laid her head on the young hunter’s shoulder. He breathed in the scent of her pelt, and his mind spun with the aroma of fresh pine needles; the early spring grass promised sun and warmth soon; the mountain streams brought coolness with them, but not the evil and harmful kind that came with winter. It was gentle and loving instead.

The bear settled down on the ground beside them. He propped Ardi up with his side, allowing him to burrow into his thick fur. And the squirrel with an odd pattern of spots climbed up onto the young hunter’s shoulder.

“Skusty,” Ardi whispered.

He remembered them. He remembered his friends. He recalled how they’d played together day and night. How they’d laughed and had fun. How Skusty had always played pranks on them, making up such silly, but funny, if sometimes offensive, jokes. How Guta had chatted carelessly about this and that, not noticing that the wise Shali, who seemed to know everything about everything, would sometimes growl at him for it.

Ardi buried his face in her fur, hugging her as tightly as his small body could. He pressed into them, hoping that behind their names and visages, something else would open up. Something very important. Something he thought he had forgotten in one of his dreams. But once again, as sometimes happened after particularly loud storms in the night, he heard Ergar’s words inside him:

“Stay in this skin a little longer… Allow yourself the chance to not feel the weight of a human heart.”

And those words, as always, wrapped him up in a warm blanket, taking away his bad thoughts and worries, making them seem like problems for tomorrow. And tomorrow always came later in the Alcade, while today almost never ended.

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

“I’m so glad to see you,” Ardi whispered. “So glad...”

He didn’t see the strange animals who smelled of natural phenomena exchanging glances. He didn’t see Skusty reaching a paw toward the chest of the human boy who was dressed in skins and painted with earth and stone dust like a snow leopard. Nor did he see Shali growl at the squirrel and tell him with her eyes: “It is not yet time. This is only the first spring. There are five more to come.”

Guta silently agreed with the lynx, and Skusty had no choice but to accept that his little friend was living with only half his heart.

Ardi couldn’t comprehend how much time they spent like that — tangled in a ball of fur and lying on the pebbly bank of the swift stream. Maybe it was an hour, maybe three, maybe more. But soon, the young hunter’s stomach reminded him with a rather unpleasant melody that it was time to find some food or else he might get a headache and hunger would continue to creep ever closer.

And so, Ardi, albeit with some difficulty — the animals clearly didn’t want to wake up and let their old friend leave their warm embrace — rose and headed to the stream. Crouching near the bank, he raised his paw and began to wait. The first fish swam by, and several claws sliced through the surface, but the river dweller just flicked his tail deftly and was soon gone.

Ardi didn’t get discouraged and continued his hunt... but even on his second, tenth and even twentieth try, he didn’t catch anything.

In this fast water, his hunt wasn’t going as well as it had in the calm waters that hadn’t yet shed the icy blankets of winter’s sleep.

“How did you know I was here?” Ardi asked when he decided to take a break from hunting.

“Lady Senhi’Sha’s favorite told us,” Skusty blurted out. He was now resting on Guta’s shoulder. “She is the Keeper of the Queen’s Garden.”

“Lady Senhi’Sha?” Ardi repeated. “Is that a...”

“Sidhe,” Shali confirmed his guess.

The lynx moved away from the bear and approached Ardi. With every step she took, she grew smaller until she took the form of an ordinary forest hunter, and the glowing patterns on her fur dimmed so much that you couldn’t see them unless you knew where to look.

Shali crouched beside Ardi, raising her paw above the water so that her shadow covered the fish, and when it darted away, fleeing the threat, the lynx’s claws were already waiting for it, waiting where it had hoped to find safety.

In an instant, a caught fish flopped down in front of Ardi’s paws.

The young hunter frowned.

“I can catch my own food,” he hissed without touching the fish. “I don’t need charity. I’m not old, sick, or weak.”

The animals exchanged glances.

“Ergar is teaching you well,” Shali nodded. “But he is teaching you the ways of the snow paths. Here, in the forest and river lands, the paths of the hunters look different.”

Ardi looked in the direction the wolves had fled.

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don’t mind those flea-ridden mutts,” Skusty waved a paw that shrank to fit comfortably atop Ardi’s head — the only place where his fur grew. It was very soft and already too long, and it would get in his eyes if he didn’t tie it back. “Their pack must have cast them out. Maybe they broke some law, or maybe they’re just slow and lazy. And so they turned to the Ley, taking power that didn’t belong to them. But they were too weak for it, and now it’s poisoning them.”

To say that the young hunter had understood nothing from that explanation would be an understatement. But he didn’t show it. He didn’t want Guta, Shali or Skusty to think that Ergar wasn’t teaching him well. Ardi just nodded meaningfully, causing Skusty to burst out laughing.

“You didn’t understand a thing, blockhead,” and he tapped Ardi lightly on the head with a small nut. “The Ley is what your old hunter called magic or sorcery. It flows everywhere and anywhere, but it’s invisible to the naked eye.”

“Like the hunters’ trails?”

“Hunters’ trails can sometimes be seen,” Shali drawled lazily from where she was stretched out on the rocks. “The Ley can only be seen by those who can Speak.”

“Or when there’s so much Ley that it takes the form of glowing stones,” Skusty added. “That is why the bipeds in the Alcade, following the science of the dwarves, cut the rocks — to mine the Ley. And those flea-ridden mutts, it seems, sniffed some of the dust and began to grow it within themselves. They grew enough of it to become stronger, but apparently, not smarter. Ardi, shall I tell you how to become smarter?”

“Yes, how?”

“In your case?” The mischievous squirrel tapped him on the head again. “There is no way!”

Ardi growled and tried to catch Skusty, but he was so agile that the young hunter couldn’t even touch his friend’s tail. Despite that, he approached his attempts with all due responsibility and enthusiasm, just as Ergar had taught him. But each time, even when Skusty stood with his back to him, the young hunter’s paws caught only empty air, never the squirrel.

And so, several more hours of playing passed, until an exhausted Ardi collapsed beside Shali. Guta, meanwhile, had been dozing the whole time. He had never been the most active in their games, even though he had the... Ardi didn’t know how to put it, but it seemed to him like Guta’s heart was so big that it could hold anything — from the mischievous Skusty all the way to the smallest and most inconspicuous leaf on a willow branch.

His stomach growled again.

Shali looked at the fish she’d caught, which had long since stopped twitching and was obviously breathing its last... Or did fish not breathe?

“I can do it myself,” Ardi growled briefly and returned to the stream.

Again and again, he tried to catch a fish, but like Skusty, they always managed to escape at the last second, just when his claws were about to cut through their bodies.

But the young hunter didn’t give up. Abandoning his futile attempts, he studied the fish’s habits as Ergar had taught him to do, but... they weren’t going to this waterhole — they lived in it. They weren’t choosing their paths to find food — Ardi didn’t even understand what the fish ate. Their habits couldn’t be predicted or read; it seemed like these mindless creatures moved for the sake of movement, without purpose or meaning.

After another dozen failed attempts, Shali rose and came closer.

“You hunt well, Ardi,” she purred. “But these are not snow trails. If you want to hunt here, we’ll teach you.”

“I don’t need another teacher,” the young hunter sulked. “I have Ergar.”

He didn’t want to betray his teacher’s trust. Besides, Guta, Shali and Skusty were his friends. They could play and have fun as before, and he’d had enough of lessons and instructions in the cave.

“That’s right!” Skusty chimed in. “No need to fill your empty head with all kinds of nonsense. It won’t get any fuller! Ha! Here, have a nut to chew on!”

The young hunter was about to grab Skusty, but he noticed that the squirrel had darted away as soon as the shadow of Ardi’s paw had covered the trickster’s fur. Remembering how Shali had hunted, Ardi held back his lunge and, after waiting to see where the squirrel would jump, finally caught him.

“All right, all right, you win,” the squirrel quickly surrendered. “You want the nut?”

Ardi looked at Guta, then at Shali, and finally, at Skusty, who was chewing on a nut. He really didn’t know the ways of the valley hunters. And it seemed like everything he had learned on the snowy trails of the Alcade wasn’t very helpful here, down below.

“But Ergar-”

“If he didn’t want this to happen,” Guta rumbled, “he wouldn’t have let you come down here.”

Ardi gritted his teeth and gazed at the northern peaks. Somewhere up there, on the peaks hidden behind thick cumulus clouds, lay his teacher. The terror of the peaks. The fiercest and mightiest predator of all the Alcade — from one end of them to the other, there wasn’t anyone who could compete with Ergar. But... Ardi looked at his claws. Or rather, the river stones he used for claws.

Ergar had told him that every hunter had their own strength. Sometimes, they’d be born with it, and sometimes, they’d have to find it. And for Ardi to become like his teacher, he needed something else, something new.

Besides, he’d always liked to learn new things. He wouldn’t have found Hawk’s Cliff and the Ogre’s Pimply Ass if he hadn’t liked exploring and...

Wait, what? Where had those words come from?

But those were all thoughts for tomorrow.

“And when’s my first lesson?” Ardi asked cautiously — his experiences with Ergar’s lessons had always come with an added portion of pain and insomnia.

“It just happened,” Shali smiled, showing her top row of fangs, then nodded toward the stream.

Ardi approached, lifting his paw over the water, but he didn’t rush this time. He waited until the shadow of it covered the fish and it darted away, and when its direction was clear, the young hunter simply struck where the fish should be. And a moment later, he was gnawing hungrily at its salty flesh, spitting out the crunchy bones that got caught on his fangs.

“We’ll teach you how to walk without making a sound,” Shali jumped to the side and landed... somewhere. Ardi couldn’t tell where, because he’d heard absolutely nothing. “And how to navigate so that you can find the paths of any prey or hunter even in the most unfamiliar of forests,” she said from behind him.

Guta approached, stood on his hind legs, and lifted Ardi easily onto his mighty shoulders.

“We will teach you how to fight not only with fangs and claws,” the brown giant rumbled, “but with your whole body, and how to win every battle. How to smash trees and break stones, if necessary.”

Skusty easily climbed up Guta’s back and once again perched on Ardi’s head.

“And we will teach you to see what others don’t notice,” he whispered into his ear. “And to hear what others don’t.”

“Now let’s go,” Shali urged. “We don’t have much time.”

They walked deeper into the forest, and Ardi didn’t notice the doe when she reappeared at the edge of the clearing, followed by what seemed like hundreds of flowers that merged into the shape of a small maiden. She smiled, whispered something to the snowdrop petals, and they flew through the forests and fields, crossing valleys and hills, swirling with the joyful wind. And each time they flew over old shrines and ancient, overgrown sanctuaries, they touched the wooden idols there.

There was a multi-tailed snow leopard, a four-winged eagle, a gigantic ibex, a bear dressed in the western dawn, a lynx with patterns like grass in the morning dew, and a little squirrel gnawing on a nut. And where the flower petals touched these wooden statues, the weeds rotted away and the woodpeckers retreated in fear. Only the final figure continued to disappear under the onslaught of time.

The figure of a wolf carved from white wood...

For the next four sleeps, Ardi spent time with his friends, immersed in lessons that felt more like games. And then, when the time came, he went back. Without Kaishas, the climb took so long that he began to worry about whether Ergar would consider it a delay and a violation of their agreement. But when Ardi finally reached the entrance to the cave, Ergar just stretched lazily and slid off his stone bed.

“Teacher,” the young hunter said shyly. “I-”

“Seven sleeps at the end of every moon.”

“What?”

Ergar let out a short growl that made Ardi jump. His teacher did not repeat himself.

“I can go down for seven sleeps at the end of each moon dance?” Ardi clarified.

“Yes,” Ergar hissed grudgingly. “Since you-”

The snow leopard didn’t finish — his small, two-legged cub was wrapped tightly around his neck, his face buried in his fur.

“Thank you, teacher.”

Ergar exhaled a puff of steam and looked westward. Hector... If these lands ever completely forgot the old spirits and they left with their people, Ergar would have something to say to his unruly student, whose son he now had to raise.

“Come, Ardan, let’s see if you’ve forgotten the art of snow trails.”

And that was how another cycle passed. Spring turned to hot summer, then came the caring fall, until it brought back the harsh winter with its winds and storms, only to give way once more to the beautiful spring.

Ardi spent most of each lunar dance with Ergar and his teachings, learning more and more about the peaks of the Alcade and the ways of the hunt. His body grew stronger and larger, his skin tougher and his eyes sharper.

During the last seven days of the month, however, he would play with Guta, Shali and Skusty, learning from them new wonders and mysteries of the forest and river lands. Sometimes, Kaishas would visit and help Ardi descend or return to the mountains faster. They often competed in matters of speed, and sometimes in the ability to spot prey from many paces away as well. The young hunter could sense that the four-winged eagle had something to teach him as well, but wasn’t showing it just yet.

And just when it seemed like life had returned to its usual routine of predictable days, new adventures were not far behind.