Long before the world as it is now existed, there was a pack of strong wolves walking through a faraway land.
Those wolves cared a lot about one another, and while some scuffles here and there were unavoidable, there was nothing that could tear them apart.
At least that's what they thought, but one force in this world couldn't be denied, and that force went by the name of Death.
No matter how close two living beings are, one day, they are doomed to be separated, their souls eventually returning to the stone.
When, where, and if they will return is unknown, hence why living beings are scared of letting go. Will they truly reunite with their loved ones? Will they be forever alone? Will they come back one day with no memory of the ones they loved?
The gods tell us not to fear the stone, but of the options the human mind can come up with for a life after death, few are deemed acceptable by us. The unknown scares us, and it scared the wolves all the same, yet for better or worse, the wolves didn't get a taste of it for a long time, leaving a peaceful life full of adventure.
It was only when one of them returned to the stone that they suddenly feet that fear for themselves, and when it came, it brought with it the pain of longing, and the terror of tomorrow.
Their friend, killed in front of their eyes, parted the world of the living with a smile, convinced that it had lived a noble life. However, the noble wolf who went ahead forgot to think about the others, or maybe it believed that they were stronger than they actually were.
At first it was shock, then came refusal. Refusal was followed by denial, anger, and depression. The only stage that never came was acceptance.
Also, in this deadly mix of grief, there is one element that you should never add. That element is fear.
Terrified for their own lives and the lives of those around, the pack fell apart, unable to face the hardships that came.
Just the hint of risk was enough. Risk made way for anxiety. Anxiety made way for rash decisions, and rash decisions led to more death.
Before long, a single wolf of the old pack was running all alone through the forest, its mind shattered beyond salvation by the fear of death.
In its crazed run, it had but one goal.
"As long as I live long enough, I can start anew!"
It pursued immortality.
"I could do whatever I want! I could take revenge on those who've taken them from me! I could look for a way to bring everyone back! I could even outlive the gods who let this happen!"
Its reasoning got more and more diluted, yet the wolf kept running, and it kept doing so for many years. Some say that the wolf is still running around, anger shaping its twisted reasoning and keeping it alive. Some say the wolf is long dead, having been killed soon after reason left its judgement. At last, there are others who say the wolf found what it was looking for and is now up there with the gods, challenging their authority as it aims to reshape this unjust world.
And so, the sweet irony of the story of undying is that it has no end. Were anyone to find the wolf today, they could ask it how it all concluded, but for now, all we can do is guess.
*****
About a month had passed since Nayavu returned to his nameless village. While his coming-of-age ceremony was as close as it could have been, he still hadn't quit his habit of gathering around the fire with other kids to listen to fablesof old.
Now that the story came to a close, the storyteller stood in silence as if possessed, her slightly tanned face dimly lit by the flames in the middle of the circle the kids had formed.
This storyteller was a girl around Nayavu's age, who stood out through her white, braided hair she had dyed on purpose to hide her natural blonde. Her soft shoulders and back had scars hinting at her troubled past, yet judging from her behavior, it would be hard to believe she didn't grow up with a loving family.
She wore the body of a proud woman—if a bit on the fragile side—but her demeanor wasn't as convincing.
"So… How was it? Tell me, Nayavu, did you find the wolf on your journey?"
The once dead serious expression of the skilled storyteller suddenly turned into a wide smile, as she all but jumped onto the man who was to be celebrated.
Tiva was her name. Tiva Colombo.
Born into slavery, the young lady—whose father was unknown and whose mother had given her own life in exchange for this lady's freedom—was a walking bundle of joy within the village.
The two of them, having both been left with no parents since a young age, became friends rather quickly in their childhood. Hence why Nayavu had long gotten used to her quirks, and didn't even think about dodging the hyperactive girl that leapt over the fire between them just to get up in his face.
"Hm? Was I supposed to find him? Nobody said anything about that…" he answered with a smug look, making the children around them laugh for a change of pace, relaxing them after Tiva's tragic telling.
"Of course you were! All of us have looked for it on our pilgrimage! But you always liked pretending to be special… Hmph!"
Tiva's pout made the kids laugh even harder, turning the table on the young man acting full of himself. Of course, Nayavu wouldn't let the girl have her way with it.
"Oh? Is that so… But what if I told you that there is no need for me to look for the lonely wolf?" he said, facing the curious kids with a grin on his face.
"Why is that, Nayavu?" the kids asked.
"Because… I already know him!"
The unexpected declaration brought all of the gazes around onto the boasting man, and before anyone could pry further, he lost his patience and spoke.
"He's me! I'm the lonely wolf!"
"…"
Everyone around the fire remained silent, unsure how to respond to the man waiting for applause. So Tiva took it upon herself to speak first.
"Nayavu… That was really lame… Please don't ever say this again…"
To the surprise of the young man, as soon as Tiva spoke, everyone burst into laughter once again, tearing up as they pointed at the poor "wolf" who already felt a headache creeping up on him.
Having played a wrong move in the battle of wits, Nayavu took a deep breath and forced himself to get up. As soon as he did, he let out a long howl and faced the children. One by one, all of them started screaming and running around, running from the self-proclaimed "lonely wolf."
While chasing the little ones around, Nayavu took a moment to glance back at the bundle of joy he had known since they were little. In turn, with an innocent expression, Tiva raised her tanned arm and waved it at the grown-up child.
Nayavu responded with a wink and a smile stretched thin, then got back to fooling around.
In truth, the Nayavu of old admired the woman wearing scars on her body. This admiration came from what she's been through yet never complained about. While it's true that the Nayavu of now was carrying much more than her, that admiration didn't fade. After all, 'he'—from 'his' many tragic endings—benefited from a certain degree of numbness to the pain, yet the girl managed to smile without it.
He truly believed Tiva to be stronger than him, but he would never admit that to her face.
*****
A man as big as a mountain stood at a fair distance from everyone else. He found pleasure in minding his own business. He would only take action when he was needed, yet he always stood there and observed, making sure the village he held dear was safe from any harm.
It goes without saying, but this man was highly respected among the villagers, and this respect came with its own struggles.
This was the ninth time in his life he had been through a pilgrimage for the sake of a youngster. If adulthood was the name of a championship, then this man could be called a multiple-times national champion.
In fact, ever since going on his own pilgrimage, Tatanka had been mostly away from the village.
Fortunately for him, there were no other children with enough springs under their belts to take the test of adulthood for at least a year. The man was now on a well-deserved break.
"Aren't you going to join?" A clan elder—his mother—asked.
"Maybe if I were 20 years younger."
"Oh, don't say that! To me, you're still the same trouble child. You've only grown a bit bigger with time."
Tatanka smiled at the joke made by the woman. It was not often that others would get a smile out of him, but Mother always finds a way. Next to her, Tatanka would always mellow down significantly.
"So, tomorrow, right?"
Vague sentences were also part of Tatanka's habit, but the old lady next to him had long gotten used to it.
"Yes, Nayavu will be a man from tomorrow. Let's just hope there won't be any rain to put out the ceremony fires, haha!"
"Come on, Mom! Don't jinx it now! The last patrol came back. There are no animals, no clouds, and no sign of danger nearby."
"That's good, my boy. But don't forget that the wolf runs fast and doesn't get tired."
"Wolves? Mom, you've been listening to too many of Tiva's stories."
"You mean the stories that I've taught her myself? Boy, you're underestimating your mother's sanity! I still have many years to go before I lose it!" the sharp lady bit back.
"Let's hope so, Mother. Let's hope so…"
As the blanket called "silence" was thrown over their conversation, the children playing around had all gone to their tents. The only ones left around the fire were the oldest child and the youngest adult—Nayavu and Tiva—talking and joking around as youngsters do.
Tatanka looked at them and breathed a sigh of relief. He trusted the two. While his job was still far from over, he trusted that when the time comes, he can leave it up to them to protect the sacred lands they called home.