Chapter 1 | Dig

Seven years later,

Somewhere in no man's land.

I was eating my last bread on the top part of a thick tree when I caught a glimpse of the unfamiliar fur prints moving carefully across the large swath of no man’s land. They didn’t have any wolf scent just like in the stories of our elders. Images of when I first saw the painted wolves flashed back to my mind, dreaming of their voyage on a huge ship. I slowly awoke when I realized all was just a memory.

Painted wolves only wander on land to trade, hence, making their existence almost a smudge on the history books. But from what I have heard, the rest of their lives were spent in the vast ocean. They are the rarest yet strongest type of wolves. No one can simply become a painted wolf, only to be born within their pack is the way to be part of their tribe. It was a pleasure to see them walk past me two years ago.

In the cramped confines of the old rabbit burrow, I uncurled and stretched my limbs. The rabbits on this side of the mountains were much larger than normal and almost the same size as me. As I made my way to the surface, my belly fur was almost touching the tunnel’s dirt ground. I stopped moving around the burrow, my nose is a feet distance from the exit, and inhaled slowly to carefully check the scents in the air. Hmmm, nothing smells dubious outside yet. After a minute of listening and smelling the outside of this burrow, I cautiously poked my head out of the burrow and scanned the surroundings. Safe. It is safe… for now. A paw stepped out of the burrow, followed by the other until I am completely out of it. My silver-like fur turned into smoke-like grey because of the dirt and dust clustered all over it. I shook my fur vigorously to get some of the dirt off.

I made another careful check-up of the surroundings and when I felt nothing but the leaves rustling, I stretched my limbs once more. Then I licked my paws to clean the back of my ears, a quick bath will suffice.

I looked around again, my view was limited to the underside of the shrubs and bushes. This part of the forest had huge sprawling bramble bushes, which matched my size because I could easily get underneath them, whereas anything larger than me would get a face full of sharp thorns for their efforts to fit in the bushes. Although I could fit in these bushes perfectly, I still need to be careful not to raise my head too high because I'd gotten wounds and scars on my ears sometimes from the thorns.

A cream color off to my side drew my attention. I trotted over to examine the small mushroom. I know this type of mushroom and this is edible for sure. It must have sprouted overnight because it wasn't here last night. I lightly waggled my tail in anticipation; where one appeared, more would follow, this would mean plenty of mushrooms to sell. I pushed it over with my paw and broke the stem before gently picking it up in my jaws. People wouldn't pay as much for them if I bruised them. 

I quickly carried it to the edge of the bramble bush and set it down on the ground. I looked up to listen for any sounds and carefully scented the air once more. I only heard and smelled the usual morning birdsong and scents of plants and small animals. At this point, I was pretty good at detecting the presence of something.

I carefully emerged from the bramble bush and took a look around before shifting to my human form. I was standing there in my tattered dirty white breeches with pouches and weapons hanging around my black belt. My upper body was covered in many light-colored shirts and a black cloth hanging loosely around my neck. I take that I may look a little bit like an assassin. My backpack appeared along with me when I shifted.

As I relaxed, I took a deep breath of the cool morning air. Because my wolf shape was so small, I felt more at ease in my human form. The majority of wolves were large enough to almost stare a human in the face. I, on the other hand, couldn't even raise my head high enough to touch someone's knees. They call us runts, wolves whose wolf form size is small, and the lowest ranks are always given to us in a pack. 

Some enormous cats I have seen leveled my height and sometimes towered over me. Many wild creatures in the forest and mountains might consider turning me into a meal. Bears, coyotes, and even a large eagle posed a potentially lethal threat if I am in wolf form, they got bigger limbs and larger leaps. Cougars were my personal nightmare as though facing Satan himself. If they are extremely famished, it would make no difference whether I was in my human or wolf form, they can still relentlessly chase me and eat me raw.

One cougar almost caught me when I was younger. He was truly eyeing me and persistently chasing my weak, younger self. My parents, fortunately, were nearby during that incident and quickly attacked it, ripping the cougar’s head and breaking all its bones.

I'm not sure what my parents were thinking when their daughter first started shifting to her wolf form. I'd been told I was a late shifter because I hadn't shifted until I was nearly six months old, whereas most infants do shift at three months old. I was too young to remember anything actually. My parents had adored me despite my diminutive stature and weak body before. 

I caught a glimpse of a butterfly as it flitted by me. I wished I could let down my guard to shift into my wolf form and chase the butterfly around without regard in the world, like an innocent child playing with her surroundings. As if her surroundings don’t have those merciless animals roaming around. But that yearning would have gone unnoticed and obliterated. It was simply too risky for me to stop fearing the things that could instantly kill me.

I walked over to a nearby lean-to and took out a small basket to carry the mushrooms inside it. I noticed a few more mushrooms from here. Lovely, I am quite lucky today. I began picking mushrooms, occasionally shifting for a few moments to retrieve and dig several mushrooms from beneath the bramble bushes. As I picked the mushrooms, I recalled memories from when I was still part of my original pack. My childhood had appeared to be mostly normal, and the pack had accepted me even if they preferred to keep my presence hidden from visitors, that is to avoid making the pack look weaker compared to other packs because they have a useless runt like me. Other packs assumed that the presence of a runt meant that feral wolves and enemy packs would target them first, resulting in an unwanted battle. But because the Alpha would not tolerate bullying, I had never been picked on too severely. Overall, life was somehow kind to me when I was younger. 

Then that same pack was slaughtered. I was twelve years old at the time, and my mother had told me to run to my hiding place until she arrived. And so, the chase began. Our house was on the outskirts of town, a long way from any of the safe rooms. My parents had taken advantage of my diminutive stature and taught me to seek refuge in rabbit burrows if trouble arose. I remembered running to the burrow my mother had directed me to hide, just like how I had done it a dozen times before. My parents had always returned and searched for me in these burrows when it was safe, whether it was a drill or an actual attack.

However, they never returned that time. Hunger eventually forced me out of the rabbit burrow the next day. I returned to the town, but it was deserted. Despite the fact that I hadn't seen any bodies, the smell of blood had been overpowering.

Six strangers walked through town two days later. They were looking for survivors when they picked up on my scent. When they found me, they told me that the feral werewolves had killed everyone in town. The six people who found me were rogues. They were kind enough to take me in and care for me for a while. I still felt a tinge of sadness for my deceased parents and friends. I had become a rogue as well. That simply meant I wasn't a member of a pack. True, some rogues were bloodthirsty killers or lawless troublemakers who caused havoc, but the vast majority were not. Some had been expelled from packs for offenses such as theft or disobedience. Some people simply couldn't stand the power that Alphas possessed. Others could be a little anti-social and found it difficult to live with a pack, which usually had three hundred to five hundred members.

I'd even met one rogue who'd been exiled because he'd dated a lady who later discovered she was the Alpha's mate. He had no desire to date someone who had found their mate, but Alphas can be extremely jealous and paranoid. I was a rogue because most packs didn't want a runt in their midst. They usually accepted a runt if he or she was born into the pack, but most refused to accept a runt into their pack. My heart was heavy as I considered how many times I had been turned down. I simply did not fit in anywhere. Packs didn't want a runt, and life as a rogue was difficult for a runt.

Rogues moved and lived in vast swaths of no man's land between various packs, rarely remaining in one place for long. The majority of rogues traveled in groups of two to ten people.

Life as a rogue wasn't easy, and as a runt, it was even more difficult without the protection of a large and powerful wolf form. Most rogue groups didn't mind my presence, but they also wouldn't wait for me. If I tried to keep up, I was quickly left behind. It was excruciating.

Most wolves could easily take a deer or a rabbit, but I had to rely on snares and archery. Rogues spent the winters as wolves, relying on their thick winter coats for warmth and protection from the elements. My fur, like that of most runts, had never developed thickness. I only wore my soft undercoat and several clothes, which did thicken up a little and warmed me during the winter season. It was comfortable as long as there was no strong wind and I didn't get wet.