dropped from Lyrie’s face by the pint? With a massive pang of disappointment and depression, Aniu finally realized that her daughter was lost.

Or was she? Suddenly Aniu remembered something that had happened years ago—before she had joined the Shiok, before she had met Sango. She had been young then—only about two years old. It was just after she had met that mysterious white wolf, just after she had become a white wolf herself. Aniu remembered the sudden revelation that had overcome her, how she suddenly known all that was, all that had been, and all that would be. She remembered how, mere seconds later, that unnamed shadow had attacked her, nearly annihilated her. On that day, she had nearly died. But she remembered how she had defeated that shadow: she had only needed to will it to leave. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, that will work here, too. She sighed. I can only hope.

As much as it hurt her to do so, she continued to stare at Lyrie’s mutilated body. She concentrated on the form, on her daughter’s slightly moving chest. She knew this was the key to saving Lyrie: if the pup died, she would be lost forever. She found herself willing Lyrie to wake up, to remain alive—but no, that was just instinct. She reached deep inside her heart, deep inside her soul, and found that unbridled love for her family that overpowers all else. She became aware that Sango and the rest of her pups now stood beside her, and the occasional tear dripped onto the ground.

“Two daughters,” Sango murmured quietly. “That’s too many.” He buried his head into Aniu’s chest. “Even Ara.”

“Too many,” echoed Aniu a second later, but she said it half-heartedly; she was concentrating on what she was about to do.

“Daddy,” Balto suddenly said several seconds later, “look.”

A white mist had drifted out from Aniu’s mouth, but the wolf herself remained unmoving. Slowly, the mist enveloped the bloody form of Lyrie, nearly hiding her from view. Soon the body began to glow, emitting a soft golden hue that faintly shone through the thick fog that now enveloped the tiny pup. Then, several seconds after it appeared, the mist faded into nothingness. Lyrie looked the same—her face was still covered in blood, her eyes retained that glassy look—but there was something different about her. Only once several more seconds had passed did Sango realize what it was: Lyrie was now breathing, and her chest visibly rose and fell with each measured breath.

Then—slowly, ever so slowly—Lyrie opened her eyes. A few tears dripped down her face as she recognized the pain that coursed through her body, but she lifted a forepaw and hastily wiped them away. “Mom,” she said, visibly fighting off the pain, “what—what happened? Why does my head hurt so much?”

Aniu lowered her gaze to her daughter. “Nothing’s wrong,” she reassured the pup warmly. “You’ll be okay.” Then she placed a paw on Lyrie’s shoulder. “I promise.” She turned to Sango, Balto, and Galena and was surprised to see expressions of shock on their faces.

“Aniu,” Sango finally said, his eyes wide, “what did you do? How—how did you—” He gestured to Lyrie, who, despite her wounds, now appeared calm and composed.

Aniu laid her head on her mate’s shoulder but recoiled slightly when she felt him shiver. “What’s wrong?” she asked calmly.

Sango was slow to reply. “What…. What did you do to Lyrie? How did you bring her back to life?”

Aniu remained unfazed. “She wasn’t dead. She never died. But I saved her life. I know I should have told you this months ago, Sango, if not years, but I think I only just realized it myself: I think I’m a goddess.”

XVII

For several seconds nobody moved, and Aniu began to worry that her family would take this news the wrong way. But Sango suddenly rushed in and embraced her, running his muzzle down the side of her face and chest, which caused a pleasant shiver to run throughout her body. “Somehow I knew that the moment I met you,” she heard him say just as she buried her muzzle into the fur on his back. Then she chuckled, licking his cheek playfully. “No, Sango, not like that. I’m serious.” As if to prove her point, she summoned more energy. A light mist encompassed Balto, and the wound on the pup’s forehead healed within seconds.

Only once several more seconds had passed did Sango realize that he had hot been breathing, and now he inhaled a huge amount of air. “Wow,” he repeated simply.

Aniu’s expression changed. “As much as I’d like to tell you how this works, I think we have a bigger problem.” She motioned to the entrance of the den.

A tan female stood at the edge of the overhang, snarling—Shiraea. Suddenly Shiraea leapt at Aniu, her teeth bared in a deathly growl. She outstretched her forelegs at her target as her hind legs left the ground, and she few through the air like a light-brown missile. Her eyes were filled with hate and vengeance toward Aniu and Lyrie for their murder of Anok.

In an instant, Sango dove in front of his mate, taking care to avoid Lyrie, but he was a fraction of a second too late. He felt Shiraea’s claws pierce the skin on his muzzle, and her full body weight crashed into his head and neck. He felt his head snap to the right and slam against the wall, and he struggled to retain consciousness as he struck the hard ground. He was vaguely aware of Aniu calling his name, but the world seemed to be fading out. After a few seconds, the comforting darkness overcame him, and he became encased in blackness.

Aniu instinctively shielded the pups from the great impact, but she immediately knew that there was no way to save Sango from that one crushing blow. She winced as she saw her mate’s head become crushed by Shiraea’s impact with the wall, and she doubted whether Sango would even be able to survive. This fear and shock, however, easily translated into hate and malice toward Shiraea.

Aniu gathered every bit of resentment and hate that she felt toward Shiraea, every ounce of love she had for Sango and her pups, and threw herself at the tan wolf. She deliberately ignored the reactions of Balto, Galena, and Lyrie; her anger blinded her to the outside world. All Aniu saw was the snarling form of Shiraea; all she smelled was the pungent scent of the wolf’s blood. She attempted to dig her teeth into the back of Shiraea’s throat, but her efforts were futile—the wolf sidestepped at the last moment, and Aniu crashed into the ground, bloodying her nose. She stood quickly, snarling menacingly at her antagonist, and then leapt forward once more, clawing at Shiraea’s shoulder. She connected, leaving a row of bloody gashes at the base of the other wolf’s neck.

Shiraea growled in pain, but soon she countered the attack, scratching Aniu across her cheek. Aniu lunged at Shiraea’s left foreleg and tried in vain to break the bone. She felt her teeth grate against the bone, but Shiraea kicked at Aniu, gashing the right side of her muzzle. Aniu retreated, but soon Shiraea leapt on top of her, forcing her onto her back, where she lay on the ground, panting. The tan wolf placed her muzzle an inch from Aniu’s nose and then snarled; drops of saliva flew from her mouth. Unable to move, Aniu spat at Shiraea—cringing when she saw droplets of blood fly into the air—and then used the distraction to kick the tan wolf off her. To her surprise, Shiraea flew several feet into the air and only reached the ground when she crashed into the cave wall.

Aniu only had a few seconds to stand and prepare for the next attack before Shiraea stood, bruised and bleeding, but otherwise unhurt. Soon, though, Shiraea seemed to realize something and began to eye Balto and Galena, a threatening gleam in her stare.

The white wolf was quick to react, and Aniu stepped in front of her pups protectively. “You’re never going to get them, Shiraea,” she said defiantly, “so stop trying.” No sooner had she said this than she lunged at the tan wolf once again.

Shiraea, however, saw Aniu’s attack beforehand and rose to meet her, snapping her jaws shut on Aniu’s right foreleg. Aniu growled and brought her other forepaw up and clawed at Shiraea, leaving several long cuts along the wolf’s cheek and muzzle. Then, leaving Shiraea no time to react, Aniu darted forward and snapped at the tan wolf’s muzzle. She connected, and her teeth tore open the skin on Shiraea’s face, exposing muscle and bone. Finally, Aniu ripped her leg from Shiraea’s grip and gashed her antagonist’s shoulder, and blood spurted from the wound.

Shiraea made one more attempt to snap at Aniu’s throat. Aniu dodged, but she was an instant too late, and Shiraea’s teeth dug into her shoulder.

Seeing one last chance to win this fight, Aniu jerked away, partly out of pain, partly out of strategy. Shiraea fell to the side as Aniu did this, and Aniu rushed in and bit down on Shiraea’s exposed throat.

The image of Sango’s broken body filled Aniu’s mind as she held onto Shiraea, feeling the wolf’s blood flow through her mouth and spill onto the floor beside her. Her anger drained as quickly as it had come, and it was replaced with immeasurable sorrow and grief. Why had it come to this? Why had Anok and Shiraea hated them as much as they had—why at all? Still, Aniu knew now that it was all over. Maybe she would be able to save Sango’s life, and maybe not. But