On any other occasion the gathering hall felt like it was large enough to fit the whole tribe.
Now, as I followed Storm through the crowded lodge, I wasn’t sure how so many people had managed to fit. It was crowded. Voices overlapped beneath the roof as rows of villagers stood shoulder to shoulder next to one another. I even caught sight of several shapes sitting up in the rafters. Mainly bird-type therians, and anyone who had been daring enough to climb the columns in order to leave more room below.
Then someone noticed us, and somehow the tribe still found enough space to step aside and open up a path through the gathering hall towards Light. A few heads turned. The air seemed to grow thick and heavy as I felt more sets of eyes land on me. By the time we reached the clearing where the chief was seated, the conversations that had been surrounding me had died down to the point I could hear my own footsteps.
I looked around as Storm continued forward to stand beside Light.
I immediately found Raven standing with Shade at the front of the crowd. She offered me a small smile that took the edge off of the anxiety that’d been building within me. Bone stood a little farther back with Echo, arms crossed and smiles warm. Rain and Flower stood near them, their expressions expectant.
A bit of movement caught my attention, and I found myself looking past their shoulders before I could stop myself.
Pale fur. Dark rosettes. Golden eyeshine that flickered against the firelight. A long tail disappeared behind someone close to the wall. Then someone shifted between us and I lost sight of him again. But now I knew.
Blaze had come.
I took a deep breath and turned back towards Light.
The chief lifted his hand, quieting the last of the conversations going on around us before speaking.
“We have more than one reason to celebrate today,” he began. “All of our far-hunters have returned from the valley and the plains, despite a hostile encounter with a North Face hunting party and a storm that could have kept all of them from us until spring.”
Several voices rose in approval. One of the hunters thumped his fist against his chest. Others followed suit until the sound echoed throughout the gathering hall.
Light waited as he allowed time for the space to settle again.
“They have also returned to their families,” he continued. “With enough provisions and stories to occupy us until the next thaw. For that, we give thanks.”
The warmth in his voice quieted the hall more effectively than his raised hand had.
Then his eyes moved over to me.
“We also gather to recognize someone whose efforts helped bring them home.”
I resisted the urge to look behind myself.
“Thorn,” Light said, gesturing to me, “has given much to this tribe in recent moons.”
The use of that name landed differently on me now. It no longer felt like an accusation, but it didn’t feel like it belonged to me either. It felt more like a hand-me-down shirt that I had finally outgrown.
“He has worked beside many of you,” the chief continued. “Our hunters. Our gatherers. Our healers. Our craftsmen. He has given his time freely, occasionally with so little regard for his own wellbeing that I suspect our healers would appreciate it if he gave a little less.”
A murmur of amusement passed around us.
Rain looked directly at me.
I lowered my eyes and tried to appear appropriately ashamed.
Light went on.
“He has repaired what was broken, provided where there was need, cared for his family, and offered his help without waiting to be asked.” His expression softened. “The name Thorn was given to a man that sought a life beyond Breaker. It offered the possibility of a new beginning, but a name should suit the one who carries it.”
My heart struck hard within my chest.
“He has embraced the Tribe of the Mountain Forest as his home,” Light stated. “At last, he has put his longing for the High Mountains behind him, and—”
“No.”
The voice rolled through the air like thunder.
Every muscle in my body went tight as I recognized it.
I watched as the crowd slowly parted, opening a path as Blaze began making his way towards us. His tail swept low behind him, and the quiet growl of mountain-speak rumbled in his chest before he spoke again.
“He did no such thing.”
Light lowered his hand. “Blaze.”
Blaze stopped several paces in front of us, fixing his attention upon the chief.
I watched him uncertainly.
I always had it in my mind that he might come. After my visit to his hut with Bone, I’d hoped that he would. I almost felt relieved when I’d caught a glimpse of him in the crowd. I didn’t know where he would choose to stand, or whether he would want to speak to me afterward.
But of all the things I’d thought, I hadn’t imagined this.
“The first time that face stood before you for a name, you put him on his knees.”
The room went still as Blaze spoke.
“Badger received a name. Ash received a name. Fang received a name. Even I received one, though you took your time amusing yourself trying to find something that I would tolerate. But Seeker’s son?” His claws pressed against his palms. “You gave him a trial. You listed the lives he had taken. The therians he had wounded. You spoke of the raid, his reputation, and every reason you had for keeping him out of your forest. He knelt before you, exhausted and starving, while you decided whether there was enough left in him worth sparing.”
Light’s jaw tightened, but he did not interrupt.
“Do you remember Fang’s naming?” Blaze asked. “Breaker placed his hand upon her shoulder. Told her that she was free to refuse you. He told her that you were not Reaper.”
I didn’t know who Fang was. Or Badger. Or Ash.
Around me, no one asked.
“Then you put him on his knees and made a liar out of him!” Blaze hissed before he glanced over at Bone. “It took the word of one of your finest soldiers and having him place his own name behind him before you saw anything in Seeker’s son worth sparing.”
Bone’s brow lowered.
Still, Light offered no defense.
“Well?” Blaze snarled. “Say something!”
Light’s expression became unreadable. “What would you have me say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Tell them that I’m wrong?”
The chief looked at me. Something old and heavy settled across his face.
“You’re not wrong.”
A murmur moved throughout the gathering hall.
Light didn’t raise his voice to silence it.
“When Breaker knelt before me, I saw the soldier who had helped raid my tribe. I saw the people he had killed and the fear his name carried across the mountain. Had Bone remained silent…” His eyes closed briefly. “I do not know whether I would have permitted him to rise.”
Blaze stared him down. The admission appeared to satisfy nothing.
“And now you stand before this village and praise him for finally becoming useful,” he said. “Obedient. Gentle. Easy to love.”
Finally, he turned to me and met my gaze.
“But Breaker did not change. Thorn did not turn over a new leaf and finally learn to behave himself…” His ears flattened. “Thorn is gone.”
A few startled gasps sounded from within the crowd, and the gathering broke into a swarm of hushed whispers.
My body refused to move.
Light stepped forward. “Blaze—”
“Ask him.” Blaze’s gaze stayed on me. “Ask him who Seeker was. Ask him why Badger, Ash, and Fang followed him into exile. Ask him what Marrow entrusted to me.”
The names came too quickly. I knew nothing about any of them, and the silence that had started to settle back into the gathering hall suddenly made that ignorance feel dangerous.
Blaze took a step forward.
“Ask this thing wearing my son’s face for one memory that belongs to Thorn!”
My arms hung heavily at my sides.
For a moment, I was back at the hut, trying to lift my head. Blaze, close enough to reach. His voice telling me to drink. The steadiness of him when everything else seemed to move beneath me.
Then the attention of the entire tribe settled upon me. It had weight. It pressed against my chest until taking a breath seemed to become impossible.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rain take half a step forward. I didn’t acknowledge it.
Instead, I focused on Blaze’s hands.
Then his face.
He saw something in me then. His mouth clamped shut, and his next breath moved sharply through his nose. But he didn’t take the words back.
The whispers started up again. I heard Thorn’s name. Something about the lake. A question I couldn’t quite make out.
I looked towards Storm. His expression remained calm. Light’s did not, but he gave a small nod as he took a small step in my direction.
I understood. He would stop this if I asked.
I didn’t ask.
Instead, I turned back to face Blaze and the rest of the tribe.
“He’s right.” The words came out quietly, silencing the gathering all once more. “My name isn’t Thorn.”
Blaze’s stare did not leave me.
“My name is David,” I said. “David Willoughby.”
A wave of confused murmurs passed through the crowd. A few tried repeating the name as though they were testing unfamiliar sounds.
“I’m not from the High Mountains, or any other tribe,” I continued. “I come from a place called Alaska. I’m human.”
Another wave of confusion rippled through the crowd.
“And what is a human?” someone near the front asked.
“It’s a little like a therian,” I explained. “Except slower. Clumsier. Not quite as good at smelling things…”
Confusion morphed into skepticism as the crowd tried to figure out what to make of my explanation.
“So what does that mean?” A voice spoke up.
“It means he speaks the truth,” Storm said as he came forward, standing beside Light. “The spirit within this body is not the one that was born into it.”
“You knew?”
The question came from somewhere near the hunters.
“I did,” Light answered, shifting everyone’s attention towards him. “Storm brought his concerns to me. After he awoke, David told me what he could. We have spoken of it privately since then.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I allowed him the time to tell you himself.” Light’s eyes moved briefly over to Blaze. “I felt he should have a choice in how he did so.”
Blaze looked away from him.
I could still feel the place where his words had struck.
Thing.
Wearing my son’s face.
I looked at him, then to the various faces carrying mixed emotions that stood in the crowd.
“I don’t know why it happened,” I began, “In my own world, I’d decided to go cold fishing, and I fell through the ice. If that sounds familiar to any of you, it’s because Thorn had decided to do the same. He had gone cold fishing, as well, and fell through the lake here.”
I glanced over at Rain. He had gone very still.
“I don’t know how those things happened together,” I continued. “I don’t know why any of it was possible, but I awoke in the healer’s den, and everyone thought I was someone else. I didn’t know what had happened to Rain or why he'd been so bitter when we first met.”
My eyes moved over to Bone.
“I didn’t know why you expected me to steal from you when I was fixing up your storage den.”
His eyes lowered.
“I didn’t know Shade. Or Raven. And I didn’t understand why everyone watched me the way that they did.”
The hall remained quiet.
“I know you all must feel like you should have been told sooner, but I didn’t know how. Especially once I started to learn about who Thorn had been. Then I didn’t know if telling the truth would have made things better or worse. I mean who would have believed me?”
I remembered the chatter, the rumors, that would surface whenever someone saw me helping around the village. The doubt. The snide remarks. The belief that it was all just an act I was putting on. The breath everyone seemed to be holding as they waited for me to make a mistake.
Something in my expression must have betrayed that thought as I saw Fern take a few cautious steps forward with Brook at her side.
“So you just let us all treat you as we would have treated Thorn?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Why? You could have said something!”
I looked at her, then to the little fox therian that clung to her side.
“What else was I supposed to do?”
My statement seemed to strike every person within the crowd at once. Fern looked down. The therian standing just past her shoulder avoided my gaze. One of the hunters clamped his mouth shut, silencing whatever argument he'd been about to make.
“I don’t blame any of you,” I spoke up. “Light’s advice to me was that I shouldn’t go around trying to convince you all that I wasn’t Thorn, but to let my actions speak for me. So that’s exactly what I did.”
I turned to where Raven stood with Shade.
“I didn’t pretend to care about him,” I said, a smile forming on my face, “Or Raven. Or anyone else here. Whatever you may think of how I came to be in this body, I need you to understand that.”
I looked back at Blaze.
“I didn’t know why Thorn had chosen me. Not until I was sick.”
His jaw stiffened. “Chose you?”
“Yes.”
Something dangerous lurked within his gaze as another low rumble built up in his chest.
“Be careful what you claim to know about his choices.”
The warning made my stomach draw tight. I remembered my first visit to his hut. His questions. The effort it had taken to hold my ground there.
“I am,” I said. “I didn’t understand what had happened any more than you did. Not for a while. And even now, I still don’t understand all of it.”
Blaze’s eyes looked me over before they locked back onto mine again. He was silent for several seconds before he finally spoke.
“My quarrel is not with the work you have done for these people,” he said abruptly before he turned back towards Light. “It’s with how readily you praise him for doing it.”
His voice rose as his gaze moved across those nearest to us.
“You welcome him because he is gentle. Because he is useful. Because he carries Breaker’s strength without carrying any of Breaker’s wounds.”
No one answered.
“This tribe embraced my son once,” Blaze said, “Only once…”
A low growl preceded the rest.
“It was when the High Mountains came for you. When he stood before his hut with blood in his claws and became Breaker again.” His gaze swept across the crowd. “That was the only time you were grateful for the man you spent every other day fearing. You embraced him when his violence belonged to you. And what did you offer him when the fighting was done?”
“That’s enough, Blaze,” Bone spoke up, his voice echoing across the gathering hall. “You are way out of line!”
“Oh, shut up, Growler!” Blaze snarled, rounding on him. “You stood before this tribe and put my son’s honor upon your own name. You told your chief that you believed Breaker could be trusted. You gave him shelter. Gave him work. You let him believe that there was still one creature left in this miserable forest who remembered the mercy that cost him everything!”
Bone’s anger faltered.
“And when he became difficult,” Blaze continued. “When he became frightened and angry and harder to defend, you cast him aside like the rest of them. Then you struck him down and called yourself betrayed.”
Bone looked down at his hands.
I knew those hands. The hands that could steady a piece of wood beneath a freshly-sharpened blade. The hands I had felt press into my shoulders when I couldn’t stop shaking from grief. The hands that could carve a little wooden bear, and proceed to grip, press, and curl around it to ground himself as he recounted a painful memory. The hands that could repair a bend in a feather.
Slowly, they curled into fists.
“You think I stopped trying?” Bone asked, quieter this time. “You think one bad day was enough to make me turn on him?”
Blaze’s ears flattened.
“I gave him work when he would take it. I spoke to him when he would listen. I carried that promise for years, Watcher. Long after everyone else said I should put it down,” Bone’s voice roughened. “And you think I turned on him merely because he became difficult?”
“I think Seeker’s son paid for your mercy long after you stopped paying for his.”
Bone flinched.
I felt my own breath catch at the cruelty of it.
Blaze had called him his son so easily when he was angry with Light. Now, as he spoke about what Thorn had been owed, he felt the need to put Seeker between them again.
“Leave him alone!” Rain snapped.
Blaze turned. “And here comes the heroic healer…”
Rain’s fur bristled.
For the first time, he seemed to regret stepping forward as Blaze faced the gathering again.
“Rain likes to tell everyone about how he pulled my son out from the ice. How he risked himself trying to save him.” He then turned to Rain. “What he won’t tell you is how long he waited.”
Rain’s face immediately went pale.
“Five minutes,” Blaze said. “For five whole minutes, he stood there while my son froze and struggled beneath him.”
Murmurs passed through the crowd.
“Is that true?” someone asked.
“Yes,” Rain replied quietly.
“You see?” Blaze continued, drawing back his lips. “Rain did not rush to save Thorn. He waited to decide whether Thorn was worth saving.”
“I was afraid…”
“Yes.” Blaze’s eyes flicked to the scar Thorn had given him. “He had made you afraid. And you nearly let him die for it.”
Rain’s hand rose to his scar. He held his gaze, though the effort showed.
“You cling so desperately to that precious Healer’s Oath, don’t you?” Blaze went on. “Do no harm. Take no life. Tell me, Rain Who Comes On Swift Legs, where was that oath when you let my son freeze?”
Rain flinched at the sound of his full name.
“He still went out onto the ice,” Flower pointed out.
“Yes… After five minutes.”
“But he brought Thorn back.”
“He brought back a body!” Blaze roared.
The cry tore through the gathering hall.
For one instant, the anger fell away, exposing something naked and wounded behind it.
Realization began settling in as Thorn’s warning came back to me.
Then Blaze turned towards Raven.
“And you!” he growled. “You heartless shrew. How dare you reach for my son’s face a second time when you were the one who drove him away in the first place!”
Raven lifted her chin as she drew Shade closer to her.
“You told him that he should leave,” Blaze continued, “That he should go back to the High Mountains. Do you know what they would have done to him if he would have listened?!”
His voice had grown so loud, it seemed to shake the air itself.
Even so, Raven maintained her composure.
“I was protecting my cub,” she stated.
“From his own father.”
“From the man who struck Rain while I was carrying him. Do you expect me to apologize for that?”
“You could have—”
“What?” Raven’s voice shook on the word. “What do you think I should have done differently, Blaze?”
A growl tore from Blaze’s throat as he stalked towards her.
My body acted before fear could stop it. I moved, stepping away from Light and Storm and planting myself in Blaze’s path.
“That is enough,” I said firmly.
His eyes rose to mine.
Up close I could see the strain around his eyes. His claws were out, and his jaw worked as he forced himself to stop and face me again.
I had wanted him here. Even now, with Raven behind me and Shade clinging fearfully at her side, that thought hurt more than I knew what to do with.
I let out a breath.
“Now,” I continued slowly. “You’ve told us what everyone should have done. Light, Bone, Rain, Raven…”
I paused as I looked at him.
Blaze’s tail lashed behind him.
“But what about you?” I asked. “What do you think you should have done?”
Something flickered across his face, causing him to take a step back.
No one else in the gathering hall seemed to be willing to breathe as they waited for an answer.
I held his stare.
“What did you do, Blaze?” I asked.
I waited, close enough now that I could hear the unevenness of his breathing.
For a long time, he didn’t move. Then his claws drew back into the tips of his fingers and his tail went still, dropping to the floor. When he finally spoke again, his voice had lost its edge.
“I have another name, you know,” Blaze said. “They called me Watcher…”
His voice was quiet as his mouth twisted around the name.
“What do you think I did?”
Someone in the crowd drew a sharp breath.
“You stood back?” I recognized the soldier that had first shown me the way to Blaze’s hut. “After everything you just said—”
“Enough,” Light said.
Another voice rose over him.
“You let your own cub—”
“Enough!”
This time the chief’s voice carried, silencing the angry voices that had started to break from the crowd.
Blaze remained where he stood with his eyes on me. There was anger in them still, only now it had nowhere left to go.
Then Rain stepped forward, his arms wrapped around himself as his eyes settled on him.
“He called for you.”
Blaze turned his head as one of his ears gave a slight twitch. “What?”
“Thorn did,” Rain clarified. “While he was still in the lake. He made a cub call.”
Every trace of anger vanished from Blaze’s face as he shook his head.
“It barely sounded like one,” Rain continued. “His voice was too deep, and he couldn’t draw enough breath. You likely wouldn’t have recognized it. But I knew what it was.”
The memory came back to me then. The way Thorn’s movements had begun to slow in the water. The low croaking sound he’d begun to make, and the way Rain had come tumbling out of the tree he’d been watching him from shortly after. I remembered the way the sound had struck me, creating a knot of dread that had sat firmly in my chest. And I remembered the insult Thorn had shouted at the memory of himself.
“Shut up, you cub-calling carrion eater! You don’t get to complain! You dismissed your Watcher! Drove everyone away!”
“He was calling for his care-kin.” Rain’s voice cracked as he forced himself to meet Blaze’s gaze. “He was calling for you.”
“No…”
Blaze's voice came out as a whisper as he took an unsteady step backward. His heel caught an uneven place in the floor, but he managed to steady himself without seeming to notice.
“That’s when I went out onto the ice,” Rain said, tears gathering in his eyes. “I heard him, and I couldn’t just sit there any longer.”
“Why?” Blaze asked. “Why didn't you tell me?”
Rain’s response broke apart in his chest.
“Because I thought I had already waited too long.”
Blaze turned away as Flower approached to try to console Rain.
For several seconds, nobody could seem to find anything to say.
Eventually, I spoke up.
“I saw him.”
Blaze’s eyes came back to me.
“In the Shifting Place,” I added. “When I was sick.”
Something changed in his expression. It was small and terrible to watch.
“You said he chose you,” he said.
“Yes.”
His eyes left mine briefly, as though he were recalling something. “You spoke to him?”
I nodded.
Blaze stared at me with such rapt attention that I almost wished I hadn’t said it in front of everyone.
“He showed me what happened at the lake,” I explained. “When Rain went onto the ice, Thorn tried to stop him.”
Rain looked up sharply.
“He saw your scar,” I told him. “He remembered what he had done to you. He didn’t fight you because he was being stubborn, or because he wanted to die. He was trying to warn you away. He knew you could fall in.”
“I thought…” His voice faded. “I thought he was refusing my help.”
I shook my head.
“What happened out on the ice… He never intended for any of it to happen,” I continued. “He needed somewhere to think. He finally understood how bad things had become, and that things couldn’t keep going on the way that they had.”
I swallowed against an ache that had risen into my throat.
“He wanted help. He just didn’t know how to ask for it. Or who he could go to anymore.”
Blaze shook his head, his eyes glistening in the firelight as his jaw began to tremble.
“He said I was to stay out of his battles…”
“I know.”
“Told me he wasn’t a cub anymore…”
“I know.”
“He said that he did not need me…”
The last word shattered in his throat.
“Then the ice broke,” I said quietly. “And he called for you anyway, because underneath everything else— the soldier, the husband, the father — he was still the cub you raised.”
Blaze’s breath caught with a sound he couldn’t hide as his shoulders began to shake.
“He called because some part of him believed that Watcher would come.”
The anger drained out of him. What remained looked older than any therian I had ever seen.
“He was Seeker’s son,” Blaze whispered. “Marrow trusted me. They both trusted me.”
There it was again.
“You keep calling him Seeker’s son,” I stated. “But he was yours, too.”
Blaze shook his head again. “I was only his care-kin.”
“You’ve called him your son in front of all of us. More than once.”
He glanced around at the crowd as if he’d only just remembered they were there. Then he looked down.
“He was entrusted to me.”
“But that isn’t all you did,” I said.
“I was supposed to protect him.”
“You raised him.”
His face crumpled.
For the first time, I didn’t see the snow leopard that’d been able to move in and out of a snowstorm unseen. I saw a father who had likely spent every day since the lake apologizing to three spirits who were not there to answer him.
Another broken sound left him as his head fell back and his eyes closed. Sorrow flooded his features.
“I was supposed to come.”
“My grandparents were my care-kin,” I said, taking a few steps towards him. “They fed me, protected me, loved me, taught me everything I know. They gave me a home. They were everything I needed them to be.”
Blaze lowered his head again as he met my gaze.
“I'd grown up with stories about my parents,” I continued. “But for nearly my whole life, it was my care-kin that raised me. I'm sure Thorn knew who Seeker was. But in the end, he was raised by you.”
He stared at me, his eyes seeming to search my face for something I couldn’t give him.
“I’m not your son,” I acknowledged. “I won’t pretend to be, but I know Thorn chose me for a reason.”
Blaze’s breath hitched.
“After he fell through the ice, he saw me struggling to get out of another frozen lake. I was scared. I was dying. And when he heard Flower trying to call him back to his own body, Thorn reached for me. He looked at both of us and decided that I deserved the chance more than he did.”
I glanced around the gathering hall.
“He believed there was no one left in this world that he could reach. So he reached across worlds for me.”
Blaze bowed his head.
“That’s what happened to your son,” I told him. “Not one betrayal. Not one hesitation. Not one cruel word. He lost all of you a little at a time. Some of you stepped away because he’d hurt you. Some stayed until he drove you off. And I think he came to mistake both for proof that he had never mattered.”
Blaze’s shoulders shook once more. He drew in a breath, but it caught halfway in.
His mouth opened. For a moment, no sound came.
Then his head tipped back, and a long, agonized cry left him.
I went still.
It filled the hall, rough and trembling, carrying on until there couldn’t have been any breath left behind it. His hands rose toward his face, but he couldn’t seem to decide whether to cover it or to reach for something.
I had heard him shout. Heard him snarl and growl and make the people around him draw away.
I had never heard anything like this.
Regret.
Sorrow.
Grief.
Weeks of pain that he had been forcing himself to swallow and hide beneath his anger and High Mountain pride came tearing out of him all at once.
The cry faltered. He dragged in another breath, and it broke from him again.
Someone shifted behind me.
I stepped closer, keeping my hands where he could see them.
“It’s alright,” I said quietly. “You don’t have to stop.”
I didn’t know whether he heard me.
His face twisted as he tried to close his mouth against the sound. It escaped him anyway, lower now, broken by the breaths he couldn’t quite catch.
I stayed beside him.
There was nothing I could give him that would make this hurt less. Thorn was gone. The cub he had raised had called for him, and he would have to live with knowing it.
But he didn’t have to stand here alone while it tore through him.
His hand caught my forearm. The grip was sudden and hard. I braced myself as he bent forward, his other hand covering his eyes.
I didn't recoil or try to push him away. Instead, I rested my palm against his shoulder and remained there with him.
No one tried to speak over him. No one told him to gather himself or handle this somewhere private. Around us, the hall waited while the cries slowly gave way to sobs, and the sobs became something he could draw breath around.
Even then, it took him time.
Whenever I thought he had steadied, another tremor would move through him. He kept his face covered until he could lower his hand without immediately raising it again.
Finally, he straightened.
His grip loosened around my arm. He looked down at where he had caught me, then let go.
I lowered my hand from his shoulder.
Blaze wiped roughly beneath his eyes. Tears formed tracks down his face that reflected in the firelight, and his next breath still shuddered.
“I…” He stopped and swallowed. His gaze moved across my face before dropping again. “What I called you…”
The words brought back the silence that had followed them along with the weight of every eye in the gathering hall.
Something changed behind Blaze’s eyes as he looked back up at me.
“There was no cause for it,” he said.
His voice was hoarse, but he made himself stand up straighter.
“You came to my hut. Brought me things as a kindness, rather than as repayment.”
I remembered the parcel between us. Bone standing nearby while I tried to explain why we had come.
“You asked nothing of me,” Blaze continued. “Then I came here and spoke to you as though…”
His mouth closed. He looked down, drawing a strained breath.
I waited.
“As though you were something lesser than us,” he finished. “Something I could despise for standing where I wanted my son to be.”
The words brought back the silence that had followed his accusation. Every face that had turned towards me. The sudden doubt about everything that had passed between us.
Blaze made himself meet my eyes.
“I was angry. I am still angry. I miss him, and there are things about losing him that I do not understand.” His voice roughened. “But I knew you could be hurt. You had shown me kindness, and I spoke cruelly to you anyway.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t answer.
“I was glad when I saw you,” I finally said. “I’d hoped you would come.”
His ears lowered.
“And I gave you reason to regret it.”
He straightened, though his next breath still trembled.
“David Willoughby. I've wronged you before this tribe. You deserved neither my contempt nor the doubt I placed upon your kindness. My grief was not yours to answer for, and I made you bear it.”
He paused, holding my gaze.
“I ask your forgiveness.”
Hearing my full name made my throat tighten. Only minutes ago, he had called me a thing in front of everyone. Now he stood before those same people, making himself answer for what he had done, and I didn’t know what to say.
I looked down at my hands.
Part of me wanted to tell him it was alright. To make it easier for both of us and move past it.
But I could still hear him saying it.
“That hurt,” I admitted.
Blaze bowed his head. “I know.”
“Especially after you stayed with me when I was sick. I thought…” I paused, trying to find the words. “Maybe I’d misunderstood.”
His eyes lifted sharply. “You misunderstood nothing.”
I held his gaze.
His mouth trembled before he steadied it.
“I should not have made you doubt that.”
Something in my chest loosened, though the ache remained.
I took a breath. “I forgive you.”
Blaze stared at me.
I let him, giving myself a moment to mean it as fully as I could.
Then I extended my hand.
He looked down at it.
“I know it must hurt to look at me,” I said. “I won’t ask you to forget him, or to look at me and stop wishing he was here.”
His fingers moved slightly at his side.
“But I’d still like you to be part of my life.”
He looked back up. “After what I’ve done here?”
“Yes.”
I glanced toward Raven and Shade, then returned my attention to him.
“There are things we can talk about another time. Somewhere a little quieter.”
A faint, weary breath left him.
I managed a small smile. “You could visit.”
His eyes moved to my offered hand again.
For several seconds, I thought he might refuse. Then he reached out, slowly, and closed his fingers around mine.
I tightened my grip.
Blaze bowed his head over our joined hands. He held them there for a moment, breathing carefully, before looking at me again.
“You know where I am.”
His voice was rough and quiet.
My breath caught briefly as I absorbed the words. Then a smile broke across my face.
“I know where you are.”
His hand went still in mine as his eyes searched my face again. For a moment, we were back at the hut. I had returned from the Shifting Place. Blaze was clutching my hand as he demanded to know how I'd come to learn of the phrase.
“Thorn…” he whispered.
I nodded.
“He really did tell you.”
“Yes.”
Blaze looked down at our hands. His fingers tightened around mine, and he bowed his head. I wondered how many times he had turned over what I’d told him at the hut, wanting to believe it. He held on a little longer before letting go.
Neither of us seemed to know quite what to say.
Light waited a few more seconds before approaching.
“Blaze.”
The snow leopard turned toward him.
The chief’s gaze rested briefly on his face.
“I cannot give Thorn the welcome I denied him,” he stated. “But you were right to remind me of it.”
Blaze said nothing.
“I will have more to say to you later,” Light continued. “When you are ready to hear it.”
After a moment, Blaze inclined his head.
Light turned to me. “David. Do you still wish to continue?”
I glanced back towards Raven.
Tears had also gathered in her eyes, but she offered me the same small smile she had given me when I first entered the hall. Shade stood pressed against her side, watching me.
Bone met my gaze from beside them. His brow was drawn tight, his eyes wet beneath it. He worked his jaw once before swallowing, then glanced towards Blaze. When he looked back at me, he tried to smile. It barely lifted the corners of his mouth.
He gave me a small nod.
I drew in a slow breath.
“Yes,” I said.
Light gestured with his hand. “Then come.”
He led me back toward the place where we had begun. This time, when I turned to face the gathering, I didn’t have to search the crowd for Blaze.
He stood beside the others, close enough to reach.
“When I first spoke tonight,” Light started, "I praised Thorn for the changes I believed this tribe had witnessed. That was careless of me.”
I turned to him.
“I knew the truth. Yet I spoke as though one man’s life could be explained by another man’s deeds.” His gaze passed briefly over Blaze. “Thorn’s life deserves to be remembered in its own right. So does yours.”
The hall remained quiet.
Light approached me again. “David Willoughby…”
Hearing my name spoken so clearly still made something tighten beneath my ribs. Only now, I no longer felt the need to look around and see who had heard it.
“You came to us frightened and far from home,” he continued. “You were given little reason to trust the people around you. Even so, you found ways to care for them.”
My eyes lowered.
I thought of Bone’s storage den. The broken tools I had worked through my hands. Shade carrying the small pieces of firewood. Raven standing in the doorway of a hut I had spent weeks trying to make my own.
“You have worked beside us, shared our hardships, and allowed us to share yours.” A small warmth entered his expression. “Though that last part has occasionally required some persuasion.”
A faint breath of laughter moved through the hall.
I glanced toward Rain. His eyes were still red, but one corner of his mouth had lifted.
“The name you’ve brought to me is yours to carry, if you still wish it,” Light said.
I thought it over one final time.
I had turned it over in my mind after my meeting with Light, uncertain whether I could ever hear it be spoken and feel like it belonged to me. Even after deciding on it and returning to Light with it, I had still wondered.
I looked toward Raven again. She stood with her hand resting against Shade’s shoulder. When our eyes met, she smiled.
Bone gave me another small nod.
I turned back to Light. “I do.”
He smiled and extended his hand. I accepted it.
“Then let this tribe know you as Wanderer.”
The name carried into the rafters.
For a moment, no one answered.
Then Raven spoke it softly, as though she were trying it for herself.
“Wanderer.”
Bone followed her, letting his boom across the gathering hall.
“Wanderer!”
Rain followed him, then Flower, Echo, and Storm.
Shade looked from the others to me. Then his voice rose clearly above them.
“Wanderer!”
More people joined them. Familiar voices. Unfamiliar ones. Somewhere near the front, a hunter struck his fist against his chest.
Another answered.
I looked toward the sound and found one of the men I had helped through the snow. He held my gaze as he lowered his hand.
My throat tightened.
Light let the voices settle before releasing me.
“A name of your choosing,” he said. “And now for your title. Would you have me choose, or would you like to entrust that honor to someone else?”
I took a deep breath. “There’s someone I'd like to ask."
Light inclined his head. “Who?”
I turned.
He stood beside the others, his arms wrapped around himself as the tip of his long tail twitched against the floor.
“Blaze.”
The snow leopard's ears shifted. For a moment, he didn’t seem to understand as he looked from me to Light to the rest of the gathering.
A few murmurs rose from the crowd.
“Blaze?” Bone echoed. “You cannot be serious. After what he just—”
He stopped himself, but I turned toward him.
His brow had drawn tight again. He looked more worried than angry, and that made it harder to answer him.
“I know,” I said. “But I'm serious about this.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I’m not trying to.”
Raven watched my face for a moment before her eyes moved over to Blaze.
He shook his head as well. “There are others here who have known you longer.”
“Yes,” I acknowledged.
“Others who have treated you better.”
I hesitated.
“Yes…” I took a step toward him. “But I’m asking you.”
Blaze looked down briefly. When his eyes lifted again, there was something guarded in them.
“Why?”
“Because I meant what I said. I want you in my life. And I trust you to take this seriously.”
Some of the guardedness dropped from his expression.
“You strike me as a man with very little patience for nonsense…”
A low breath escaped Bone. “That much is true…”
Some of the tension eased around us.
Blaze remained still.
“And you worked very hard to keep this body alive,” I added. “I doubt you’d appreciate someone attaching a humiliating title to it.”
His brow lowered.
For a moment, I wondered if I had completely misjudged him.
“You believe that is a sound basis for choosing a title?” he asked.
“No,” I admitted. “But it seemed like a sound basis for choosing you.”
A few quiet laughs rose from those nearest to us.
Blaze looked at me for a long moment.
I let my smile fade.
“I know you won’t give me something you don’t mean.”
Beside me, Light waited patiently, his expression unreadable.
“You may refuse it,” the chief finally said. “But the choice was his to offer.”
Blaze drew in a slow breath before he eventually stepped forward. The small movement quieted the people around us.
He stopped before me, close enough that I could see him gathering himself. His hands settled behind his back, then loosened as though the old posture no longer felt quite right.
“Wanderer,” he said.
I nodded.
He pondered the name silently to himself for several seconds before he spoke again.
“You have come farther than any hunter standing in this hall,” he said, his eyes moving briefly towards the far-hunters. “Farther than any scout I have ever followed.”
He looked back at me.
“You have lived in two worlds. You have crossed between them, spoken with those who have left this one, and chosen where you will remain.”
I felt my fingers curl against my palms.
The Shifting Place came back to me briefly as I stood torn between the life I had lived in Alaska and the life I had begun to build for myself within the tribe. I thought about Thorn and everything we had discussed and argued about. And I remembered the ache of when I had been unable to choose which life I ultimately wanted to return to.
Blaze’s voice drew me back.
“Of Worlds.”
I looked at him.
He held my gaze.
“Wanderer of Worlds.”
The words settled slowly.
The name was familiar. The rest was new, and yet it settled against it so naturally that I wondered how I hadn't heard it there before.
Blaze waited.
“Well?” he asked quietly.
A small smile reached my face as I managed a nod.
“It fits.”
He let out a breath as his eyes softened. “Then carry it well.”
Light looked between us.
“Wanderer of Worlds,” he repeated.
His eyes settled on Blaze as he gave him the opportunity to step back, but the snow leopard remained where he was, close by my side.
The chief offered his hand one final time.
I took it.
“Then let it be known,” Light proclaimed, raising our joined hands. “The Tribe of the Mountain Forest welcomes Wanderer of Worlds.”
A firm thump from a hunter answered him.
Then another.
The far-hunters stood among their families, striking their fists against their chests. Voices joined them, growing louder as my name passed through the hall.
I could barely see them by the time Light released my hand.
Shade reached me first, catching me around the waist with enough force to make me take a step back. I bent over him, laughing as I steadied us both.
“Careful,” Raven said, though she was smiling when she reached us.
Her hand settled against my cheek.
“Wanderer,” she cooed.
I leaned into her touch.
Behind her, Bone opened his arms.
I stepped into them before either of us could speak. He drew me close, one hand settling against the back of my head. I shut my eyes, letting the familiar smell of smoke and shaved wood that hung off him steady me.
“Well done,” he murmured, his voice rough beside my ear.
I swallowed and held on a little tighter.
When we finally drew apart, Echo was waiting at his shoulder, trying to find room to reach me. Rain stood behind her. His smile was tired, his eyes still red, but he came forward with the others.
There would be questions later. Things to explain, and people who needed time to decide what they thought of me.
Shade found my hand again. Raven stood close enough that her arm brushed mine.
And when I looked beyond them, Blaze met my eyes.
He was still there. Watching.
Around us, the tribe spoke my name.
“Wanderer of Worlds.”10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCXnUQWFTos
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