The loira are strong and durable, but pulling a bear larger than a small boulder would be too much even for them. Yora as a diminutive example of the species would never have even been able to dream of doing so, but on that night she could do...anything. As the hunter's moon begins to fade with the light slowly banishing away the night, Yora pulled the grandfather through the mountainside. Even with the power of blood and the endurance of iron flowing through her body, it was still backbreaking work.

Pain and pressure caused each halting step she took to make her entire body quiver with the strain of hauling the dead bear with her as she made her way towards her destination. She could feel it calling to her through the magic that had been planted in her by both blood and lust, just as clearly as she could feel the world's condemnation of her actions. The wind whispered it's disdain for her through the leaves, the ancestors turned their gazes away from her in sorrow and disgust, and the spirits called out to her with each passing moment.

"Sinner! Sinner! Kinslayer! Kinslayer! Pathseeker! Abomination! Murderer! MURDERER!"

Over and over again she heard it as the night passed until finally, she stood before it. An ancient stone bier standing in a clearing between the trees and at the edge of harshest part of the mountain. He stood there like she knew he would, the stories were clear. The Grand Shaman had to be the one to complete the Rite of the Pathseeker. The wizened man stared at her with his cold blind eyes and spoke simply out into the air.

"How did you do it?"

His voice carried the condemnation of millions yet was as cold as a glacier as he asked her and Yora replied haltingly as her voice had gone long without use that night.

"I tricked the grandfather into impaling himself on my hunting hook before I then choked it to make sure he bled out from the wound."

Yora spoke dispassionately as she made her report and the Grand Shaman asked another question.

"Where did it end?"

"I killed my grandfather in a stream as he tried to free himself from my grip."

"Which phase of the moon are we under?"

"The Crescent Moon, the Hunter's Moon."

Yora said as the magic in her chest began to rapidly leak out through her limbs and into the air around her as she finished the spoken part. The Grand Shaman placed a hand on the ornate stone table and said simply with a weariness that he previously lacked.

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"Place him on the bier, murderer and let us see if you are ready to walk the path you sought."

She practically collapsed as she managed to expend her final burst of energy in the effort to place the giant bear on the all too small stone table. Yet the bier somehow held out and Yora heard the shaman move as she laid on the ground, slowly panting with exhaustion and shame.

A voice made her come too after what must have been only moments, but they had been enough for her to lose consciousness. The Grand Shaman had placed a foot on her moss-covered scalp and pushed her face into the dirt as if she were kowtowing before the bier.

"Kinslayer, you have slain that which could live forever and on top of that killed a grandfather of our kind. The laws are clear about these things, they are written into the very nature of our souls as loira. Death or Atonement, are you willing to walk the path of the atoner? To become the third shield of our people, the guardian of all our Souldas? From the Plane Gazers to the Woven City, to dedicate your entire existence to atoning for your grave sin? To have what you have done on this night shape you forever along with the power of your victim?"

His words were practiced, ritualistic as they had to be. Like how some merchants spoke when announcing trade deals to her Soulda or when the Hearth Father spoke of the futures he glimpsed in the sacred hearth of the home. Yora tried to lift her head from the dirt but the old man pushed her face back into the dirt so her reply was muffled, but her words did come out.

"Yes, I accept my sin and wish to atone for it in the eyes of the Souldas, the Spirits, and the Ancestors."

A sudden rush of force lifted Yora up from the ground and suspended her in the air before the bier. The Grand Shaman held a bowl similar to the one she had drunk from, but this bowl did not just contain blood. It smelled of more than that but Yora did not have the time to consider the sensation before pain wracked her form as the needle penetrated her skin.

On her shoulder, the old man began to carve and draw a crescent moon with the blood from the grandfather while muttering incomprehensible incantations under his breath. Even in her weakened state Yora could feel the powerful spiritual energies rushing into her body helping the old man draw out the mark in record time before he moved on.

Next came her weapon, the hunting hook that had been crafted from the powerful bones of a dire moose. Yet the old man held the weapon like it was a pus-covered rag.

"As you seek to atone for your sin, murderer your weapon will take your punishment in your place, may it's memory haunt you for what you have done."

Then the old man casually shattered the sturdy weapon that had withstood the mass and force of the grandfather like it was a twig and the fragments flowed from between his fingers and into the bowl he had sat down. A mark followed as The Grand Shaman painstakingly branded her skin with an image of a hunting hook.

After that, there was no interlude just another mark as he drew a thin stream from her navel up to her chin with no more gentleness than he had shown her before. Yora attempted to remain stoic as she had before, but the pain of the process caused her screams to fill the night as blood and power marked her body and with it her soul. She could feel the grand magic making her consenting soul malleable and ready for the final step.

"The kin killer stands willing to atone for what she has done to you grandfather. She robbed the world and robbed you but this huntress who used a hook on you in a stream, is at your mercy. Will you claim her life or take her with you in death?"

The old man spoke deferentially as he addressed the corpse and Yora could feel her sweating and panting body grow cold as her heart stilled. Would her victim reject her now that she was so close to fully walking the path of atonement? Would her grandfather claim her death and drag her with him to the endless hunting grounds? Ultimately, Yora did not get to finish the thought as a golden flash filled her vision and she heard the final words spoken by the shaman.

"Then I name you Yora Goldfur She Who Hunts in Streams. Carry your sin with you and hope that you can earn your forgiveness after tonight."

And then her mind was filled with fire as her body changed under the moon and a roaring amalgamation of woman and bear rose from the ground and shouted her rebirth to the world itself. Before she ran into the woods to leave the dissolving corpse behind and then she transformed back in the morning as her first change came to an end.