The wolf yelped as his enemy’s fiery hand struck him. The smell of his own singed fur flooded his nostrils. Pain coursed through him, but he could not surrender. If he did, then Mother would pay for his weakness. Akyvak grabbed the Shade’s arm and ripped fur away. Wolf’s fur on a human’s body. Revulsion and outrage joined his terror.

Before his teeth could touch flesh, the raven made another strike. Talons ripped into the flesh between his shoulder blades. His limbs buckled and he collapsed into the snow. The Shades fled together, deeper into the dark woods. Akyvak got up and tried to chase them, but he was in too much pain to achieve more than a labored walk. He folded his ears back and whimpered.

He had gone with the fox to protect his family from the Shades. If he could not even do that, then what worth did he have? For the entire two years he had been alive, it had always been about his family, particularly Mother. Mother, who had not even given him life. That mother had died giving birth. His mother now was going cold and hollow, but she was Mother still. And he had to protect her.

Slowly, wearily, he trudged back to the den. Blood reddened his tracks, which he covered as best he could. When he arrived, the surrounding forest was cold and quiet. His younger sister, Tiluek, lay outside. Her eyes were half-open, and snow dusted her tawny pelt. Akyvak bent down and licked her muzzle. She huffed at him and touched her dry, cracked nose to his. Quietly, so no one else would hear, he sang his secret song to her. Her tail thumped against the ground. Nothing ever brightened Tiluek more than their secret song.

She stood up and shook the snow off herself. Akyvak went inside their den, a large hole dug beneath the roots of a tree so massive it must have been thousands of years old. Tiluek followed him quietly. She had been so silent lately that it was starting to frighten Mother, but Akyvak knew everything was fine. As long as he was there for them, everything would be all right.

Mother must have smelled his blood, because she woke up with a startled yelp and rushed to his side. She sniffed the bloody wound between his shoulders and backed away with an anguished whine. Akyvak licked her muzzle. Poor Mother, so afraid of everything now. But deep down, he sensed that she was right to be afraid this time.

He lay down and tried to ignore the pain. When Tiluek walked in and saw him bleeding on the floor, she nudged him gently. Akyvak tried to lift his head, but suddenly found himself too weak to do even that. Whatever was happening, he realized, Mother had never been righter to be afraid.

Mother lay down next to Akyvak and put a front leg over him, pulling him closer to her chest. Even in her now-perpetual fear and confusion, her love was as strong as it had ever been. Akyvak nuzzled into her thick gray fur and savored the warmth. Tiluek curled up with them, and together, they dozed off.

At some point during the night, Akyvak woke up feeling deeply confused, like he had awoken from a nightmare he couldn’t remember. Mother was sound asleep, but there was blood all over her. Stabs of pain shot through his back. Why was he bleeding?

When he remembered the Shades earlier, he stiffened a little. What if they were coming for Mother and Tiluek? How could he protect them now?

Akyvak shut his eyes and whined. The pain got worse with every second. Nausea writhed in his gut like worms. Even huddled against Mother, he was so cold that his bones ached. Eventually, his cries woke Mother, who tried to soothe him. When she saw it was not working, she woke Tiluek for help. As much as Akyvak wanted to stop crying, he could not. It was all too much.

Mother grabbed the scruff of his neck in her jaws, just as she had when he was a pup. He had no idea why she was trying to carry him, or where she was taking him, but he trusted her enough not to question it. He lay limp and feeble as Mother dragged him from the den. Tiluek followed close behind. Perhaps, he thought, they were taking him to the river to get some water.

He thought he heard wings flap overhead. When he looked up, though, he saw only the sky and the trees reaching up for it. The clouds blotted out all the stars, but somehow, the sky was not entirely dark. He wondered if the sun was somewhere behind them.

Eventually, Mother stopped and laid him down by the edge of the river. She touched her nose to his and sighed an apology. Akyvak stiffened. Why was Mother apologizing?

Only when she started to walk away did he realize what was happening. He cried out for her, but she kept walking away, growing smaller and smaller in his vision. Tiluek stayed a little bit longer before following Mother back into the woods. At the sight of her vanishing with Mother, Akyvak began to wail. He tried to get up and follow them, but he could barely move.

He tried to fathom why this was happening. Did Mother not love him anymore? That couldn’t have been it. Mother’s love was pure and undying, the only thing he could ever really rely on. Maybe he was dying, and she didn’t want to watch. Mother had always been so afraid of seeing her pups, whether born hers or adopted, meet an untimely end.

Of course, she had no way of knowing that Tiluek had been dead for quite some time, and that the only thing keeping her on her feet was Akyvak’s secret song. He had sung it to her every day to keep Mother’s heart from breaking. Now Tiluek would fade away, and Mother wouldn’t understand why.

He howled his lungs out in a final plea for mercy, but Mother was too far gone to hear him. Akyvak shut his eyes and sighed. Mother had told him that freezing was a gentle death. He hoped she was right.

You’re not dying.

The thought intruded his head out of nowhere. He opened his eyes. In front of him stood the same glowing-eyed raven that had wounded him. Akyvak snarled.

The Iron God won’t let you die. Not if he can help it. We are his blood, you and me. His children.

Akyvak blinked. He had never even heard of an Iron God. Was it his father? How could his brother be a raven?

Not your father. We are his descendants, though. And I am Sylesh, one of his warriors. Soon, you will join us as a Ferash Therall. Or a Shade, if that’s what you call us.

His heart skipped a beat. Horror mingled with his agony. Suddenly, he understood why Mother had left him here.

I see that you’re suffering, wolf. I’ll give you a choice. I can make you turn right now, or I can leave, and you’ll turn on your own within a few hours or maybe a few days. Understand?

Leave, thought Akyvak. I don’t want to see you ever again.

As you wish.

The raven flew away. Akyvak shut his eyes again and willed himself to sleep. Whatever was coming, he did not want to know.