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It was a peaceful evening, as most were in such a small village. Snow fell soundlessly, white as far as the eye could see, save for the soft orange glow cast by the windows of the small huts huddled together around the dirt clearing. Tall walls surrounded the small village, keeping out high drifts and animals who were seeking refuge, or a meal from the chicken coop. The tiny huts, only large enough to house two people, the largest able to house a family of four, were squat in design and made out of pine and pitch, or cornstalks, or even braided vines laid over sticks.

Smiling slightly to himself, the village shaman moved with a simple grace, leaning on his oak walking stick, his long, fur robes swishing softly as he moved. As he drew closer to the village, he heard a shout from the young kit who had been given guard duty during dinner, before the adults took over for the night. The gates before him creaked and groaned, protesting against being opened, but finally gave way, a bright glow lighting up the quickly dimming air around him.

"Jared!" the young boy cried, running barefoot out into the snow, his footpads making nary a sound as they swished through the dunes that had gathered at the back of the gate. "Did you bring me anything!?" he cries, his voice cracking slightly, bringing a look of embarrassment to his face, his ears drooping, hoping the shaman wouldn't tease him. Laughing softly to himself, Jared ruffles the boy's messy hair and reaches a slender hand into the satchel that hung at his side. He differed greatly from the other villagers, but that is also what made him so special to them.

The other villagers were what humans would refer to as Anthromorphs, animals that had evolved over many years to walk upright and talk like humans, their paws transforming into hands and feet similar to their human cousin's. Their faces were even humanistic, although features were still animal in nature, ears, noses, muzzles, whiskers, and fur, none of which time had taken from them yet. This evolutionary jump had also brought about a strange leap in breeding, they had discovered they were able to cross breed with humans, creating a race with very humanistic features, and very few of their animal cousin's features. Jared was one such person. His mother had been a beautiful human with flowing ebony hair and a musical voice, his father was a large silver and gray male, with sharp, rugged features and strong paws. He had gone into the city to work and raise money to help pay for a new irrigation system for the village, and had met the love of his life while working a field for a local farmer.

Jared's mother had died giving birth to him, and his father abandoned him with shame, having not intended to create a "sub-human" as most human's called his kind. The elders of the village took him in while he was still young, and noticed from a very young age that Jared exhibited traits similar to what they look for in the village shaman when one is born to them. His hair lost it's dark ebony color, and turned a soft silver, while the fur he had on his lower back, tail, top of his feet, top of his hands, and his chest remained ebony. His eyes also turned from blue, to a bright, sharp silver, as if a piece of the moon had taken up residence within.

The last shaman had passed on very close to the day that Jared was born, and the elders took it as a sign from nature. They trained him as a shaman from the day he could walk, teaching him to live with nature, in harmony with all living things. They taught him to be a leader, to make decisions for his people to better their lives. Their persistence paid off, as Jared began to show the powers that normally inhabited a shaman's body, powers over nature and animals, over elements and life. The elders had been worried though, no shaman had ever come into the powers before their thirtieth cold season, and Jared was only nine cold season's old.

Shamans were praised by his people, and the people across the countryside that lived in tune with nature, but there was one fault in a shaman's gift. Females have always been more in tune with nature, but for as long as they have been able to keep record, only males were born with the gift, with the power to lead and make a difference, but it came at a dire price. Due to this, as soon as the male had come into his powers, he was quickly wed to a female, it was forbidden for a shaman to wed before that point. The female and male were bound together with the powers of nature and the prayers of the elders, their souls intertwined as one.

Should a male use the powers of nature on his own, a price must be paid. The male's flesh is scorched, flesh burned and wounds would often appear in multiple places, often taking years to heal, even though they were relatively small. These wounds were aptly named "cursed brandings" and were painful, putting shamans to bed rest for months at a time. But when wed to a female, and bound to them, the female would act as a filter, cleansing the powers of nature of the ill effects, and protecting the shaman against the cursed brandings. The female's body would also be afflicted, but not nearly to the point that the males are. The female's body often only showing small scratches, or tiny bruises after the power was drawn through them by their husbands.

Because of this though, the elders were very worried, Jared could not yet wed. He was too young, no male could be wed before their eighteenth cold season, no exceptions, and a shaman not before his thirtieth, although they agreed to make an exception there. They discouraged him from using his powers, told him it was evil to do so before his marriage day. Jared however, being a curious boy, often snuck away from the village at night to practice his powers, limping back to the village before anyone awoke to bandage the cursed brandings that afflicted him after his night of practice. As he grew, he grew differently from other boys in the village, where the other males grew broad shoulders and muscular bodies, his body grew, but stayed slender, his shoulders stayed small, his chest didn't swell with muscles, his stomach didn't harden.

Many times while in town buying supplies with the elders, due to his long, silver hair, he was often called miss, or young lady. It didn't bother him, of course, unless it was said in front of the elders, then his face often deepened in color. As he grew, the elders prodded him to begin choosing his female, he would often groan and walk from the tent to escape the jabs and laughter of the old males, but being within the village wasn't any better. Older females not yet wed often pinched his rear as he walked past or ran their fingers along his tail, casting what seemed to be seductive looks in his direction. The younger females would giggle and wave as they walked past, their mothers often shoving them in his direction, telling them to get to know him, telling them their lives would be good if they took him as their mate. He tried to ignore it, and often found that leaving the village until nightfall was the best plan in those situations.

His eighteenth cold season came and went, no female by his side, and the elders began to cast cold, uncaring looks in his direction, the people of the village calling him the fallen shaman, whispering cold words as he passed. He hadn't ever developed a liking for females, and often thought of them as his dear friends, but had never looked at them with the eyes that his male friends did. He never saw them as sexual objects to fulfil his desires, or as mates. He was confused, uncertain about what to do with himself. When he would look at his male friends as they wrestled and fought, he would find himself entertaining thoughts about them, thoughts that males only thought about females. It scared him, he had never heard of such a thing before, but was too scared to ask the elders or any of the villagers about it.

"Jared! Come on! Stop teasing me! I know you have something!" the young boy cried, squirming impatiently, his eyes wide with anticipation. Laughing and shaking his head, banishing the old memories from his mind, Jared pulled a long, metallic object from his satchel.

"I remember how much you liked music Lethe, so I brought you a very special human instrument" he said, kneeling down in the cold snow, smiling up at the boy, who's eyes were as wide as saucers. It was a very special treat to own any human items in the village, most villagers were too poor to afford them. Placing the metallic tube to his lips, he blew softly, the haunting melody of the flute filled the air, the boy's smile widening until it threatened to split his face in two. "Oh Jared! Its wonderful!" Lethe cried, throwing his arms around the shaman, who grimaced in pain, but patted the boys back and handed him the flute, as well as a small music book on how to play it. The boy squeaked happily and scuttled inside the gate, the sound of other children gasping and crying out in amazement at Lethe's treasure could be heard. Shaking his head softly, he walked within the gates, the cool air vanishing, replaced by warm, inviting air, his cheeks stinging slightly from the transition.

Looking above him, he smiled softly at the villages greatest accomplishment. Above him, the snow appeared to stop fifteen feet in the air, and then roll softly down an invisible sphere, depositing itself outside the gates. Looking around him he smiles, waving to passerby's as they returned to their homes from the dinner hut. The warm earth beneath his feet felt good, the swept walkways clean from any snow, and appeared as though they had never seen a winter before. Crops grew in a small farm, only wide enough for five rows, and a chicken coop full of sleeping hens sat beside it. The village milk cow moo' d softly as he walked past, his long slender fingers scratching her head gently. Due to his feline heritage, his fingernails were long, and sharp, but had no resemblance to claws, nor did his hands hold any resemblance to a feline's paw, it was even mostly fur less, aside from the small tuft at the top of his hand that went up his forearm and stopped at his elbow.

"You're spoiling that boy Jared" a gruff voice, grating against the laughter of the children, pierced the night. Sighing softly Jared turned, the rather porcine innkeeper stood, her large paws rested in balls on her rather giant hips, her tail swished angrily behind her. "how come you don't bring my son anything?" she asked haughtily, eyeing him up and down. Shaking his head a bit Jared ran his fingers through his hair and turned to walk off, speaking before the gasp the female gave could turn into irate shouting. "because your son picks on that boy, and because your son has more human items than he knows what to do with, Lethe is an orphan and sleeps under a burlap sack sheet, I wont hear anymore ill words towards him, goodnight" he said, briskly walking into his hut, groaning and sitting heavily in a soft, wool lined chair by the door. His body ached, a side effect of him coming into power at such a young age.

When a shaman came to power, the memories and knowledge of every prior shaman flooded into him, causing him to age slightly more rapidly than others. Even though he was only twenty two cold seasons old, his body creaked and groaned like a gray muzzle's, and he ached from head to toe. The strangest part of this, was that he didn't age outwardly as fast as other males, he still appeared to be eighteen, his face still smooth, not a wrinkle to be seen. The elders felt it had something to do with him being half human, but he didn't place much stock in what they had said.... they weren't even alive any longer anyway.

Unloading his satchel, he picks up the bags of seeds, tobacco, tea, herbs, and medicine and walks slowly towards the general storage, smiling as he walked through the door. Behind the counter came the loud roaring laugh of an enormous male. His face was scuffed, and fur was missing in spots, and he was twice as large as any other male, and twice as strong. " Roland!" Jared cried, throwing an arm around the massive man. Roland laughed, hugging Jared as if he were made of glass, leaning back and getting a good look at him.

"My hell boy, you need to come eat Mama's cooking more often! You're far to thin to be who you are!" he teased, grinning widely to himself. Even though he was strong as an ox, and twice as big, Roland was harmless as a fly, and often had tea parties with the young girls in the village, not that he would ever admit it.

"Is that who I think it is?!" cried a female's voice from the kitchen, a svelte, graying woman came rushing through the swinging doors. "Oh Jared, I am so happy you are back! Did you bring my teas?" she asked, throwing her arms around Jared, hugging him so tightly he felt the air squeeze from his lungs. Nodding and handing over the sack of tea, he smiled and shook his head at the oddly matched couple. "Jen, I wont ever understand what you see in him" Jared smiles, casting a teasing glance at Roland. Jen was tiny, only four feet tall, and thin as a rail, and was dwarfed by her massive husband, in both size, and sound. "Oh you be quiet, your still not to old for me to turn over my knee and paddle like a spoiled kit!" Roland cried, turning his paw over and slapping the back of it against his other paw for emphasis. Jared laughed and held up his hands, admitting defeat. Roland nodded and carried the packages back into the kitchen, kissing his wife as he walked past.

Jared's eyes took in the familiar, welcoming sights within the storery, the smell of salt pork, bacon, and roast cooking wafted from the slatted window in the kitchen, mingling with the scents of teas and soups brewing in a large hearth. The chairs were simple barrels that had been too warn to fill with wine again, and had a wool stuffed pillow on top to cushion the bottoms of their visitors. Waving to the couple, Jared exits and walks back to his home, sighing and sitting in his chair once more.

Laboriously he begins to undress, groaning in agony as he slides his robe off, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Looking down, he sighs softly, pulling a large bowl of salve out from under the table beside him. Covering nearly every inch of his body were linen wraps, discolored by dry blood. Gingerly unwrapping the bandages, he sighed softly to himself, most of his body was now covered in cursed brandings, still fresh and bleeding. No one was stupid enough to make the trip into the city during the winter, you died of cold, starvation, or were eaten by a starving bear or wolf on your way, but his village had ran out of medicine for the sick and the elderly, and had run out of the herbs they used to make their healing salves, and the teas to settle stomachs and lower fevers. They had lost so many last year, before the elders had died, and this year, now that he was in charge, he wasn't going to allow it.

The trip had been hard, and he had nearly fallen and broken a leg several times, but with the aid of his powers, and the strength driven from pure need, he had made it to town and back, and everyone was thankful. The price he paid was great, these wounds would stay for many months, possibly even cold seasons, but if it meant the elderly, or a sick kit could live to see another cold season then it was a price he would gladly pay again and again.