respond. “I—I was trying to save you,” she said softly. “But—but I failed. I’m sorry, Dad. I don’t know how I can fix my life.”

“Adera, I—I forgive you,” her father said. “And I wish I could help you. But I—” He broke off mid-sentence. “I love you, A-Adera, and I always will.” He closed his eyes for a second, and then reopened. His expression hardened, and his eye twitched slightly. It was as if he thought that keeping his eyes open would keep him alive.

But it was not meant to be. The light in the wolf’s yellow eye slowly and gradually disappeared, leaving it only a pale, lifeless disk. Adera’s father was dead.

Adera’s eyes filled with tears, and they spilled down her face relentlessly. She allowed herself to collapse limply on the ground, though her broken ribs sent an immense shock throughout her entire body.

She coughed, and was surprised to see blood splash out and stain the snow. Oh, crap, she thought, I’m going to die.

Suddenly a flicker of motion to the side caught her attention. She painfully turned her head to see what appeared to be a majestic ivory wolf.

IV

The wolf slowly padded up to her, and she knew by its scent that it was male.

“What—what…are you…doing?” Adera moaned.

The answer came, though not through the air, but mentally. I have come to take you to the next life, the wolf told her.

“Who—who are you?”

I have no name. I am simply a spirit, meant to guide the weary traveler. Now come.

Adera felt her mind cloud, and she momentarily lost her sense of vision. When it returned, though, she still felt lightheaded—no, her entire body felt light as a feather. She looked down and saw her own lifeless body on the ground below her. A glimpse slightly further showed that she was now a pale white ghost. What’s...happening? she asked the great ivory beast that stood before her.

I have chosen you to be the next white wolf, Adera.

Adera was surprised at this. What do you mean? And how do you know my name?

The white wolf approached Adera slowly and gently touched its muzzle to her chest. A brilliant white glow appeared all around Adera and her body began to melt. The glow encased the dripping skin and fur and stretched it until she became the size of an adult wolf.

Then, finally, her fur changed from the dull gray that it was to the purest white.

You are Aniu, now, the wolf told her then, no longer Adera.

The newly renamed Aniu watched as the wolf before her seemed to sink slowly back into the blowing snow. It was momentarily obscured by the white dust, and then it disintegrated, becoming white dust itself and blowing away with the wind.

Aniu crouched for a second, and then lifted her muzzle and howled into the night.

She then turned back to her father’s body and touched him with her muzzle. “Go on,” she said to him. “Go on to the next life.”

The body glowed, and then it disappeared in a swirl of fine, white mist.

Suddenly Aniu was nearly overcome by a vast amount of knowledge. She saw all; she knew all. She knew about the bird in a tree two miles away that was feeding its young. She felt the mole under the ground digging itself a den in which to spend the rest of the winter.

Then, all at once, something awakened inside her. She had the feeling she was being watched. She had the feeling that she was being stalked.

She looked around anxiously, but did not see anything amidst the snowy mountains that surrounded her.

Without warning, a black shape detached itself from somewhere and leaped on her, knocking into her shoulder and forcing her to the ground. It clamped its jaws on her head, causing her to scream in pain. She felt the blood drip down her forehead and kicked at the beast, noticing that no matter how much she tried to focus on it, the figure was immersed in shadow.

Aniu ignored the pain from the wound on her forehead and attacked the shadow. She raised one paw and drove it into the form, willing her opponent to be destroyed with every fiber of her being. However, her efforts were in vain: her paw caught nothing but air, leaving the shadowy figure entirely unharmed. She was now shocked to discover that her entire front right leg was filled with a searing pain. How the heck can I get rid of this thing? she thought, panicked.

The shadow then began to emit a strange black mist that made Aniu feel as if there was some great internal pressure in her skull, which made it harder and harder for her to concentrate on keeping her life. The pressure was accompanied by and incessant buzzing noise, and before she knew it, Aniu had multiple gashes in her left shoulder.

Still, she could not see fur or claw in the black mass before her, nothing but impenetrable shadow. Out of nowhere, there came more burning pain—a large wound on her right cheek, a bloody gash running down the side of her muzzle from her nose nearly to her left eye, several more cuts on her forehead. She felt something tear at her left ear, and soon the right side of her jaw was nearly sliced to the bone. Many times, she desperately attempted to injure the shadowy figure in some way; many times, she received nothing but more and more severe pain for her efforts.

Finally, Aniu decided that her actions were futile. She resolved to simply lie down on the ground and die. What was the purpose of fighting this strange creature, anyway, if there was no way to defeat it?

Disregarding the many blows that turned her to a bloody mess, she crouched and sat. Then, she lay down and simply waited for the attack to stop.

Suddenly, one final revelation came to the shredded lupine that was on the brink of death. Tediously gathering every last bit of her strength, Aniu willed the figure to leave. To her surprise, a large amount of white mist emerged from her body and surrounded the spirit. When it cleared, the shadowy figure was gone.

Devoid of energy, Aniu collapsed onto the snowy ground and did not move. All she knew was that all the knowledge she had had only minutes before was now gone—she now felt weaker than ever. The fur on her cheeks and muzzle that only a few minutes ago had been white was now stained a dark red. Her head burned with the fury of a thousand volcanoes. Her face and chest bruised and bleeding, she decided that now she needed to die. Until this moment, she had been struggling to hold on to life, but now she recognized the futility of her existence. The world around her flashed in and out of focus—for an instant she could see clearly; now it was a blurry field of white and gray—and soon everything faded to a wall of dark, pressing, impenetrable blackness. She lay, unmoving, her blood staining the snow crimson, and soon became covered completely by the blowing snow.

V

The next day, a hunter was passing through the area with his dog, a gray purebred husky.

The husky, Sango, sniffed the air and was surprised—the scent of a wolf filled his nostrils. He barked excitedly and ran over to where the scent seemed to be coming from.

“What is it, boy?” the hunter asked. “Another animal?”

The gray husky only barked once more and began digging at the deep snow. Seconds later, he uncovered the bloody, mutilated face of a white she-wolf. The hunter took his rifle off his shoulder and began to load it.

But Sango realized this wolf was different. He saw through the many wounds that covered her face and saw her graceful features. The wolf’s grace and beauty amazed him. When he stared at the creature’s closed eyes, he could only imagine what wisdom resided in the yellow orbs beneath the lids. He then turned toward the hunter and was appalled to see that the man was already pointing the gun’s muzzle at the wolf’s forehead, and was tightening his finger on the trigger.

Sango whimpered. The hunter sighed. “I have to make sure the wolf is dead, Sango,” he said. “You know that.” Slightly aggravated, he began to take aim again.

Anxious to save the beautiful creature—if at all possible—that would soon be under the threat of the hunter’s rifle once again, Sango stepped between the wolf and the gun, glared up at the hunter, and growled. You kill me before her, he thought. The image of the wolf’s face filled his mind as he attacked. He leapt onto the man’s chest, clasping his jaws onto the hunter’s arm, and knocked him to the ground. He was relieved to see the rifle fly out of the hunter’s hands. A quick bite to the man’s throat was all Sango needed to finish him off.

Then Sango rushed over to the wolf and desperately began to dig her out the rest of the way. He was shocked to see that the wounds extended past her head and neck and covered nearly her entire body. Though the gashes had stopped bleeding, much of the wolf’s fur was stained scarlet, along with a large portion of the snowy ground beneath her motionless form. With a jolt, Sango began to worry that this beautiful creature might have already succumbed to the great loss of blood from her veins.

Anxiously, he put his muzzle to the wolf’s chest, hoping to find a heartbeat. Several seconds later, he felt a faint thump-thump against his nose. A second or two later, he felt another beat. But this one, the husky realized with dread, was weaker than the last. The wolf was alive, but barely, and she would surely die any second.

Sango then carefully lay down on the wolf to try to warm her. He put his head next to hers and gently nudged her, trying to get any kind of response.

Several minutes later, the wolf groaned. She slowly opened her eyes and saw Sango inches away from her.

“Wh—Who