Deep inside a lush forest, a barefoot boy wearing only a torn-up shirt and a pair of trousers dashed through the trees, running and jumping over obstacles with the maneuverability of a wild animal.
His black hair swayed in the wind as his legs carried him as fast as he could go.
Dead on his trail was a feral beast that was tracking his every move. With every passing second, he could sense the beast's approach; it was stalking him.
He could tell that the creature was close just by the flocks of birds that erupted in a panic every few seconds.
"I need to get rid of this wretched thing!" he mumbled as he thought of the perfect way to lose the beast.
He knew the forest like the back of his hand, from his days lazing around aimlessly. He remembered that right at the edge of the forest was a field of rosemary plants.
When he got to them, he took off his shirt so as not to get the smell of rosemary on it. Then, using a small rock, he crushed the herbs in his palm until they formed a paste.
He then proceeded to smear the paste all over his body.
Rosemary plants carried a strong aroma; it was the perfect way to mask his scent.
"Try tracking me now, you fucking dire wolf."
Still, he knew this wouldn't be enough; everywhere he went, he left signs of his presence. If not by smell, they'd find another way to track him down.
He'd already thought of that and had a plan in store. The entire time he was running, he activated his 'Shamanic Bond,' and luckily for him, it bore fruit.
It caught the attention of an elk.
Shamanic Bond is the name of the ability given to a select few in this world. It allows them to form links with non-human beasts. It works similarly to sonar.
Each creature has a unique frequency, and in order to ping them, you have to possess the same frequency as the creature.
People with the ability to form bonds with animals or beasts were called Tamers. They were distinguished by a tattoo of a paw usually in a visible area of their body. The boy's tattoo was located on his chest.
Him being able to ping the elk was pure luck.
When the elk approached, he tied his shirt around the elk's antlers and instructed it to run in the opposite direction he was going.
With that, he continued his mad dash through the forest. When he was miles away, he took shelter under a tree. He figured there was no way they'd catch up to him and decided to take a break.
Sitting against the tree, he closed his eyes and started to doze off.
As he nodded off, the image of a crying woman came to mind. It wasn't new; for as long as he could remember, this woman was always crying for some reason or another. Her tears seemed to flow endlessly, and so did her snot.
"Damn it, Mother, let me sleep in peace without your weeping."
Plop.
A wet substance fell onto his face as he slept. At first, he brushed it off as rain, but the substance had a weird smell to it that caught his attention. He opened his eyes to see white glistening fangs bared at him.
Grrrrr.
The creature was right in his face, growling menacingly as he opened his eyes. It was the same beast that had been hunting him—a black dire wolf. The massive creature towered over him as he sat against the tree. It was the size of a horse.
He kept his movements brief and subtle so as not to anger it any further. But he figured trying to reason with it wouldn't hurt.
"Fenrir, how you doing, buddy? I found a nice-looking elk for you. You should go find it."
Instead of calming down, the creature looked half ready to tear his face off. Its growls were getting menacingly louder as more saliva pooled from its mouth on the boy's pants. He gave a disgusted sigh at the sight.
Just as the creature was getting ready to pounce, a loud whistle came from behind.
The dire wolf immediately calmed at the sound and retreated. At the same time, a man emerged seemingly out of nowhere.
The dire wolf rushed over to the man with familiarity and started licking his hand. The man petted the dire wolf before turning his attention to the boy seated underneath the tree.
"Sigurd," the man called out to the boy as he approached him.
Just as the man stretched out his hands to grab Sigurd by the shoulder, an onslaught of dust flew into his eyes, creating an opening for Sigurd to strike at the man's feet from below, throwing him off balance.
The man fell to the ground as Sigurd struck at the back of his knees. Just as he was about to land another blow, the dire wolf lunged at him, clamping down on his arm.
Blood sprayed his face as the dire wolf bit into his flesh. He had to be careful, one wrong move and this creature could rip his arm off.
He delivered countless blows to the creature's head desperately trying to get it to release him but the damn thing persisted. The man, now on his feet, delivered a deafening blow to Sigurd's unguarded abdomen.
As the blow struck, the dire wolf released him, and he fell to his knees, clasping his stomach. When he glanced up at the man, the man delivered another blow, this time to his face. The impact shattered the bones in his nose, sounding a sickening crunch.
Sigurd wallowed in pain, blood pouring from his broken nose. The blow was strong enough to knock him out, but he held on to his consciousness out of spite.
The man saw this and smiled at him. Looking down at Sigurd's battered body below him, the man started to speak.
"You know, for a boy who always says he likes the easy life, you sure make things harder for yourself. When will you learn, Sigurd? It's time you became a man, and that's exactly what I'm offering you right now."
"You're offering me death," Sigurd said as he fought through the pain.
"Death is a part of the process of becoming a man. You can't run from it, Sigurd."
"Tsk. Yeah, watch me, next time I'll take your head before I leave. How the hell did you even find me anyway?"
As the words left his lips, the man kicked him in the stomach again, leaving him to violently gasp for air.
"Language! Who do you think you're talking to?" the man said, pulling him up by the hair as he clasped at his stomach, struggling to breathe. "I'm the best tracker in our entire tribe. You thought your little tricks were going to save you?
Still… you were better than most. You have a lot of potential, Sigurd; that's why I'm always so hard on you."
Sigurd glanced up to look at the man's face and inadvertently let out a small chuckle as he saw how serious he looked.
"Let's make a deal… Father."