5. RITUALS OF INITIATION

Aura

Six of us firmly stood atop the rocky surface, facing each other in a circle. A worn-out path snaked through the Whispering forest on the side of the mountaintop. Our faces were unreadable. Hard. Focused.

No squirming. No fidgeting.

I was trained for this day, for my whole life in theory until I shifted. Then the reality struck in. It was not only a tradition to showcase my skills but to get acceptance. Initiation into the Volkov world.

No trace of weakness. And a hint of fear needed to put on display. It would only act as an advantage to others. To be used against me. But inside my heart was hammering hard against my ribcage.

It was another thing to train with father, entirely different to throw away into the Whispering forest. By myself.

Growing up, I heard so many stories of the deep, enchanted forest. And the bloodthirsty monster who resided here. Claimed this forest to be his home.

The general’s thick, hard voice momentarily diverted my focus from the inner turmoil, churning in my gut.

“When you step into the Whispering Forest, you will be on your own. Alone. At the mercy of your actions. You need to stay focused on your goal — find, kill and bring back your prey. You cannot let your focus be altered for a second. The forest lures you in its depth, you will be unable to find your way back and soon trapped in the cobwebs of its spell. Follow the simple rule — kill or get killed.”

His words pointed at each of us, standing at the heart of the circle. Shoulders pushed back. Muscles well-built. Jet-black hair neatly slicked back. His large frame seemed to tower over everyone else — judging, assessing us with his stony gaze. As if nothing could pass through his filtered eyes.

He continued. His voice matched with the surrounding — thick and cold — interrupting the spine-chilling silence. “And whoever comes last, that person is not fit for the Volkov pack. He or She will not go through the rite of passage and will be declared Rogue. This pack is only for the strongest. No place for frail and fragile. You may be born in this land but it’s up to you whether your flesh and bones will be buried here or not.”

He dismissed us. Directing us to step into the forest and commence on our purpose.

The Whispering Forest rested on the far north atop the mountain. A strictly prohibited territory where no one was allowed to go. Only on the initiation day, the participants were permitted into the forest for the task. And without much difficulty it did half of the job, eliminating the unfit from the bunch. One needed to prove oneself to grasp a position into the Volkov pack.

Weaklings were treated as weeds, everyone wanted them to uproot and fling them away into the wild.

I hid behind a massive oak tree at the edge of the forest. Warriors were stationed to secure the perimeter and a few yards away, our families standing, regarding the episode.

I slipped out of my boots, then pulled off the clothes and surrendered myself to the beauty of my wildness.

Before setting foot in the forest, my wildness turned back. Her sight held the images of her close ones. Her father standing firmly, solidly upon the ground, squaring his shoulders. He held his mother’s hand for assurance. Eyes sparkled with a strong belief.

Chaz gave a slight nod, tilting his head to his side. Barely noticeable. His composure screamed with confidence — yes, you can do this — contrasting Ivy’s expression. A lingering fear was evident in her eyes, for her friend. She might be weighing the possibilities of what was laying ahead of me.

One long look that was all she needed before concealed herself from their line of sights.

The drapery of mist was covering the tops of lush greens. Her eyes travelled further, deeper where the mist thickened into the dense fog, swallowing and suffocating nature on its way.

Listen closely and act swiftly. Don’t leave any doubts behind. If you do, your chances will be gone. It will be taken by your enemy and used against you.

With her father’s urging words flashing in her mind, she made her way deeper into the dense wood. Her fresh paw prints overlapping the older animal footprints on the heavy snow. And the silvery mist licking at every curve of her ruffled fur.

To survive this task — have a good sense of hearing, detect scents, keen eyesight, and swift agility.

Her father had always been there for her. Encouraging her to proceed forward. Overcoming her fears. In reality, when she needed him most, she was all alone. By herself.

She had heard the tales of the unfortunate ones. Never returned after they entered the forest. Instead of hunting for potential prey, they became the prey of the monster, lurking behind the thick curtains of the fog.

The rattling of voices. Perpetual whining. A chortle jarring on the ears. Bitter resentment. And quivering from sobbing, dissipating every other sound in the wild. Echoing in her ears.

But she didn’t let that affect her. With precision, she followed through the scents and distant lolloping up ahead.

Wildness spotted a herd of white-tailed deer, grazing leisurely, nibbling buds of woody plants. She crawled, finding a spot to hide and observe. To fix her target. A dried twig broke beneath her paw and at the slightest noise, they were up on their hind legs — ready to pounce.

Ears uprighted. Big, rounded caramel brown eyes staring back at every direction. She crouched low, pressing her underbelly against the cold moist ground.

In the depths of winter, there will always be weaker. Older. Injured. Or genetically inferior ones. They are the most vulnerable ones. Easy to hunt.

Her mind was working on her own accord. Repeating the words of her father, over and over again, she learned over the years.

Target

Stalk

Confront

Chase

Attack

Kill

Wildness advanced deliberately towards the herd, keeping a close but good distance. Anticipating for the right moment to strike. Stalk

Reaching closer, wildness leapt high into the air, startling the herd of white-tailed deer. But they reacted instantly, darted in flight. She flew forward, just behind them, testing each prey with her calculative gaze. Confront

Her lateral movements focused on identifying a target. And she spotted it. A yearling. She tried to single out the one-year-old deer from the herd and shot after it. Chase

Wildness swiftly overpowered the yearling. Her jagged edges gashed its skin at the leg, revealing a raw pink flesh. Losing its pace, she staggering to its feet, swaying a little.

Out of the corner of her eyes, wildness noticed something directing towards her. Long and sharp. She tried to bounce out of the way, but it was too late. Before she could comprehend the situation, a sudden pain jolted through her hind leg and radiated throughout her body. She collapsed onto the solid ground. A whimper left from her lips with the sudden force.

Wildness turned her head back. To come face to face with her assailant. She identified the wolf. Another participant. Pertinent questions overrunning in her mind. Was he following her the whole time? What could be the other reasons, than this? And the most troubling one — how could she fail to notice him? He had it all planned. He was conniving enough to patiently wait in the background behind the sheltering trees. Anticipating for the right moment to strike when all her attention would be focused on her target. Easily snatched her prey and claimed his.

A dark, hostile wolf towering over her, showing his power. Dominance. But he was neither an Alpha male nor a tough wolf. A coward.

When it came to fighting, no honour — no code abided by. The victory was all that matters.

Wildness rose unsteadily to her feet, holding her ground firmly and looked him straight in the eye. He tried to convey a message, with his guttural snarls flaunting his canines. The hunt had been claimed. And now it was his. He gave a last glance and lunged towards the direction where the speckled yearling darted away.

The whispers and muttering of unfamiliar words were reappearing in hushed tones. I sniffed the air seeking for another hunt and in doing so questioning my abilities whether I should fight him over. Or step back. Accept defeat.

Tick-tocked!

Every minute counts. Losing a full minute, getting one minute away from her acceptance in the pack. With determination, she advanced, towards the direction where both had disappeared. To challenge the wolf. And claimed what was mine.

But her thoughts were interrupted, and came to a screeching halt. She stopped rigid in her tracks.

A gruesome shadowy silhouette rose from the darkness, contrasting the snow-white background. A strange flaming red emitting from its enormous frame. The monster thrashed its spiky tail against the wolf and flung him onto the ground. The monster held him by its throat, squeezing, crushing him against the bark of a tree. He cracked his bones with its bare hands, hungrily ripping off and crunching on his fleshes.

A loud, painful howl erupted from the wolf, shaking the core of the forest. Deep, rumbling vibrations were coming to her ears. She watched the commotion played before her eyes in mingled horror. She never encountered such horrific images. And she could do nothing, standing helplessly.

His appearance was not apparent. The dull, smoky mist shrouding him from her sight. Dragging the dead wolf, the creature faded into the shadow. Like it was never there before.

Wildness pulled herself out of her daze. She reminded herself — she could do this. Nothing stood between her and her prey. As strange as it seemed, the creature drove away the intrusion coming in between them. Now, she had to find her hunt and carried it back.

She quickly regained her posture and charged towards the different direction where the deer had trailed. She needed to concentrate on the task, laid before her. And got far away from this place.

It did not take much longer to trace the yearling. Blood-soaked snow forming a dotted line of red, leading her to her target. Groaning in pain, twisted behind a tangled bush. She freed the animal from its pain, granting an instant death. Unresponsive. Dead.

Time was running out. The relentless hammering of fear and panic seized her heart. She raced back with all her strength, tightly securing the carcass in her mouth. Her tongue drenched in the taste of fresh blood but she didn’t relish in its joy.

Her wounded leg was shaking with the force she put on. Blood dripping from her injured leg, painting the white canvas behind, contrasting the red on white. She ran faster. She couldn’t lose her only chance to prove herself and got accepted into the pack. Became a part of Volkov.

Reaching back, wildness shifted into her human flesh, hugging the ground. Father hurriedly wrapped a quilt around me. The participants occupied their assigned places with their quests, lying at their feet. Only two places remained vacant.

Coming closer, I noticed the other spot crossed out. Which left me being the last one. They already find out. And came to the conclusion.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, assuring he was still proud of his daughter. But his eyes reflected pain at the known outcome.

I lost my chance. Gone. Maybe I survived the monster in the forest but I wouldn’t withstand this.

Mother was hiding behind the females, facing his back to me. Her shoulders were trembling from weeping. I didn’t have the strength to face others, witnessing how their expectations abandoned their eyes. Feeling defeated, I took my place in the circle silently.

The general held a piece of parchment, announcing the time we all took to return. The time between the second last one and me, only differed by a min.

My head held down in shame. Throat constricted. Unshed tears stung at my eyes.

The general stated in his firm voice, “We all know the rules. How does this work? Whoever comes last will hold no place in this pack. But given the recent events, two of the participants almost took the same time, one managed to kill a deer and the other a beaver.”

The general turned to the crowd but his words pointed directly at us. “A beaver is the easiest prey to hunt. Even a non-shifted wolf can kill it with his bare hands. I am amazed it took you so much time, boy.” His expression filled with disdain as he remarked.

He continued, “Their choice of prey not only proved their skills but made it all clear, who will be the proper selection for the pack. Axel Dowis, I proclaim you as a Rogue. And from this day you are no longer a part of the Volkov. You will leave this land immediately. And you have been warned, if we find you near our borderline you will be killed on the spot.”

A sigh of relief left my lips. I didn’t intend to hold my breath. I could not believe my sheer luck. I made it. At last. A part of Volkov.

My family welcomed me with their open arms, showering with a pat on my back and whispering words of praise. Chaz and Ivy engulfed me in a suffocating embrace, leaving me facing back at the general. I witnessed the unpleasant situation, occurring before my eyes.

The sharp tip of the silver dagger pointed on his face, tracing a fine line beneath his eyes on the cheek. Long and deep. The mark ran red with blood, dribbling down his chest.

A mark of shame. Disgrace.

He had to carry throughout his misery full of life. Certainly, not everyone was fortunate enough to bear the mark of respect and honour.

One’s triumph at the cost of another’s defeat.

I turned away, resting my forehead on Ivy’s shoulder. Chaz murmured into my ear, attempting to cheer me up “Welcome to the pack, Aura.”