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It is a very informative winter. Even just that night, with the maned wolf curled up at my side and the genet sitting across the fire from us, so many of my questions have found answers.

The horrid truth of it is, though, that they know only a little more than I do. Raven led Rasithenuk to Quinelia once she had lost favor with her tribe, and the two of them were then led by a combination of Raven and Hummingbird to find me. Beyond that, all that they know is what both Raven and Hummingbird have revealed, which is apparently far less than what Crane told me. They were told that there is a force that threatens the world and they needed to unite the chosen Spirits of the Sky before all of the information would be present. Crane at least told me that the force was something tangible.

In all of the stories that I was raised on, stories of holy knights and explorers, there is always the "dark force" that needs to be defeated by "the chosen ones" and it all seems terribly cliche at this point. I don't know if the Spirits are aware of how terribly poor they are at planning, or if this is just how the higher forces have all agreed to handle any kind of threat to their world. I hardly feel that it should be necessary to gather all of the strong in one place and then move them to where they are needed. Why not provide them with the full story and guide them immediately to where they should be? It makes far more sense.

But then again, picking an unremarkable assistant herbalist, a mediocre seamstress, and a tavern keeper as the chosen few hardly seems like something that makes sense either. So who am I to question the reality of the situation?

Sharing in their pasts has left me feeling even closer to my two companions, and working with the Haransiri has allowed me to feel useful again. I've learned more than a few things about weaving, crafting, and even a bit more about stalking. I haven't made any progress at all with hunting skills beside that, but at least I can move quietly when I need to, despite the walking stick. Kassathar himself even started teaching me how to defend myself with it, if need be.

All is well and good, I've been accepted further by my companions, their totem spirits, and the tribe we live amongst, and then the final piece to the puzzle finds us. Or, more precisely, he is brought to us bound to a makeshift stretcher, just an animal hide lashed to poles. And out of everything that I've learned, he is one of the most interesting tidbits.

Our aforementioned first introduction to him is initiated by an interruption from Kassathar. I'm sitting at the Gathering Fire, telling one of my tavern stories to the young ones, when the Chief Scout whistles for my attention.

"Deepest apologies, Storyteller, but the wise healer has requested your presence in the Healing Tent. Please, follow me," he says as he approaches me.

I give him a nod, then turn to the cubs. "Alright young ones, I am needed elsewhere. But have no fear! I will return and finish the tale as soon as I am able. Go help your mothers for now, okay?"

I get a chorus of high-pitched okays followed by rapidly scurrying tayra as they disperse. I cannae help but chuckle at their enthusiasm. They do dearly love my stories. "Lead on, Kassathar. I follow."

The shorter tayra leads me through the village until we come upon the tent where Rasithenuk plies his trade, and he holds aside the tent flap for me. I walk in on a scene that is truly memorable. Propped up against one of the support poles is the stretcher that holds... some kind of canine. I have never seen one of his ilk before, so the almost patchwork looking hide and big, rounded ears are immediately fascinating to me. Equally fascinating is the fact that his arms and legs are bound incredibly securely to the stretcher with thick rope. He has little adorning his body, save for his loincloth, which allows me to see a ghastly set of gashes along his abdomen that are still bleeding freely.

Despite all of this, as well as the fact that Quinelia has her knife drawn and pressed firmly up against his neck, the strange canine is smiling. Not just any smile, either, but one of confidence and trust. How strange indeed.

Rasithenuk is tending to the gashes with an herbal mixture as I walk in, and only his ears flick to acknowledge my presence. I leave him to his work and instead look to Quinelia for answers.

"What in the world is going on in here?" I ask her. "Who, or even what, is this?"

Quinelia lets her eyes flick to me, then she returns his gaze to the canine. She opens her muzzle to speak, but the stranger answers first. "Pleasure to meet you. M'name's Malaki, an' I'm a painted dog of the Alarit'artok Tribe far to th' south in the savannahs that Mother Nature has yet to see fit to grace the rest of th' world with." His grin only grows wider. "I'd offer you a paw shake, colonist, but 'm a bit tied up at th' moment. The lovely lady here didn't seem too fond of letting me keep th' use o' my paws once I slipped my bonds earlier."

I stand there in a bit of shock, not quite tongue-tied but almost. His Krillik is perfect, if a bit accented, but I hear no hint of pain in his voice. There should be a little bit, if his wounds are as bad as they look. I creep a few steps closer and examine the "painted dog" closer.

The wounds definitely look bad. I wonder why he's bound, if he's so wounded. "What are you doing here, then?"

"You should be able t' see tha', colonist. Look, but not with your mortal eyes." His voice makes him sound amused. I find that the sound itself is very soothing, trying to get me to trust him innately. I have a feeling I know what I will see.

So, to confirm it for myself, I close my eyes and speak in my mind to Crane. Lend me your sight, that I may see.

When I open my eyes again I can see Hummingbird flitting around the open wounds that Rasithenuk is tending. Raven has his wings spread and is staring threateningly at the dog from Quinelia's shoulder. And there, perched nonchalantly on one of the stretcher poles, is a sleek hawk who shares the exact same hazel eyes as the dog. This is the one Blessed with Strength. That means that he's the smooth talking type, which also makes sense. I will need to be careful around him. "I see. Well then, welcome, chosen of Hawk. My questions still stand as they are. Why have you been brought to us with such wounds and in such a state?"

Rasithenuk glances up at me, finally, and I can see worry in his eyes. I noticed that he isn't using his Blessing, but I wonder at the reasoning behind it. Surely Malaki has guessed that we're his comrades in this, and no doubt has made guesses as to who has been blessed with what as well. His eyes shine with too much intelligence for it to not be so.

I nod to Rasithenuk in quiet affirmation, making sure to block the entrance to the tent with my staff to ensure that no unwanted eyes witness the process. It wouldn't be right to cause that kind of chaos amongst the incredibly spiritual Haransiri. Rasithenuk would probably end up being worshipped, or something silly.

For the first time, I actually get to watch the maned wolf apply his healing touch. His paws start to glow faintly, first, before he touches the tips of his fingers to the wounds. That light focuses in the tips of his fingers, then, and it seems as if that light starts feeding itself into the split flesh. After a moment, the wound just starts... closing, like the flesh simply is knitting itself together again. I cannae take my eyes off of it, and I watch the maned wolf move his paws over each of the four gashes, pushing his power into the other canine's body to close the injuries. I wonder if this is how it looked when he healed me as well. I remember the warmth that I've felt whenever I was hurt or aching over the course of our journey, and Rasithenuk had simply laid a paw on me. Was he burning away my pains when he did that? I can only imagine that he was.

It's an awe inspiring sight, for sure. I can see the amazement that I feel reflected in the eyes of the painted dog as well. Only Quinelia appears unshaken at the display, likely because she's seen it and experienced it before.

With the healing completed, Rasithenuk steps back and Hummingbird returns to his perch between the maned wolf's ears. "Please, answer my friend's questions, Malaki. I wish to know the answers to them as well."

It takes the dog a moment, but he does slowly come around again, though the smile has left his muzzle. "So I am in the right place," he murmurs. "I came from the Krillik'toa just now, an' I ran across something foul. Wasn't paying attention as I ran, y'see. Had to come past a blasted cougar, biggest damn thing I ever saw. Claws like knives, an' the bugger was bigger than a horse, I swear. Caught me off guard. Bastard got away an' I stumbled 'cross the scouts out 'ere. Still had Krillik'toa garb and stuff on, so they thought I was a warrior or somethin', I guess. I fell over, they pounced on me, an' I woke up 'ere. Hawk said he'd keep the pain at bay for me so I could make an impression. Glad 'e did, too. Hurt like th' blazes before I blacked out."

"Bigger than a horse?" I say, hoping that the dog isn't sharp enough to catch the disbelief in my tone. Then I realize that I don't rightly care. Either he's lying and that means he doesn't want us to know, or he's telling the truth and is just impressionable. He sounds young, still, but I do not want to underestimate the Blessed. He might be older than Quinelia, or even Rasithenuk. I have no way of knowing.

"Biggest wild animal I ever saw, no doubt." He nods in affirmation to his own statement. Hawk nods with him, so I suppose that is that.

Quinelia steps back, sheathing her knife in a fluid motion. "He is telling the truth, though I cannot see what his intentions were upon arriving here."

Those rounded ears perk up. "Oh! We had just gotten word that th' wise healer an' honored warrior had returned to our lands. Th' chief wanted t' see if you would favor his village with a visit, an' since I run the fastest they sent me. Plus, Hawk 'ere said that he sensed Crane nearby, so I jus' had t' come over. Probably shouldn'ta kept my spear and bow with me, now tha' I think about it. Pretty sure tha's why I got all tied up. Then this lovely thing showed up and I just had to shake 'er paw, but she put me down pretty quick. Sorry 'bout tha', miss." He inclines his head to Quinelia, who simply shakes hers. "I got good eyes, but I wasn't expectin' to meet all three o' yas here right off th' get go." He focuses on me next, then grins wide. "Never thought Crane woulda picked out one o' th' colonists to help our little cause, but who's to question the Spirits?"

Hawk hasn't let this pup grow up at all. A shame. The youngest amongst you is given Strength. Crane doesn't sound pleased at all. I narrow my eyes at Hawk and shake my head. "Certainly not one as young as you are, pup. Quin, cut him down, if Rasi is done with him." I retrieve my staff as Quinelia's knife flashes, swiping through the ropes like nothing. It's a real piece of work, that knife. "And we have names, boy. I would advise you to use them if you're wanting to keep on our good sides. I'm Cayne. My companions are Rasithenuk and Quinelia, and I'd advise you to keep a lid on how much you speak to them. We may be bound through the Spirits, but neither Crane nor I are very pleased with the timing here." I feel like I'm lecturing Henry again.

Malaki settles onto his feet and reaches around to rub his wrists, and I finally get to see that he really does still look young. Maybe eighteen, maybe twenty, but certainly no older. He's not very tall, and his body is toned as I would expect from a tribal person, but I have my suspicions as to how much conditioning he actually has. He doesn't hold himself like a warrior, but more like how Rasithenuk stands. "You said that you hail from the Alarit'artok, down in the savannahs," Rasithenuk says. "That is quite the trek. Yet you are hardly over nineteen seasons old. Why are you not still with your tribe? And do not give me the excuse of being chosen by Hawk. I know that is not the case."

The painted dog gets very clearly defensive at the question, and I do not blame him. I still have yet to reveal more of my past, but then again, my companions have not asked. "Why is tha' any o' your business, healer?"

Quinelia steps closer to him with her claws expressed. "I can just as easily tear the knowledge from your mind, cub. We do not wish to have trouble following us, chosen or not."

Malaki steps back from her, the threat finally breaking the swagger that the dog seems to carry himself with. He looks truly like a frightened pup. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's jus' awkward, y'know? I don't like talkin' 'bout it." He takes a shuddering breath, then wraps his arms around his chest. "And if'n you don't mind th' delay, can we get t' somewhere a touch warmer? It's bloody freezin' out here, an' I don't have my right clothes anymore."

I roll my eyes, but we guide him quickly back through the village to our tent. It's a little cozy with four people in it, but there's enough room. I point the shivering dog at the pile of blankets in the corner that I so often occupy, then settle onto my bedding instead. Rasithenuk huddles up closer to me and watches the stranger. "Now, talk. I'd like to trust you, but I know of your Curse and am understandably wary." I slip an arm around Rasithenuk as I talk, comfortable with the maned wolf's presence. I can feel his paws emitting that warmth that always eases my aches and it does just that again this time.

Malaki shrugs two blankets around his shoulders and scoots closer to the fire. "Much better," he says, and I can see his shivering cease. "And yeah, I always forget 'bout my Curse. I don't really notice it tha' much, t' be fair." He shakes his head, as if he were trying to dislodge something inside of it. "But th' story, right. It isn't much of a tale, I guess." He takes a deep breath and I can see the edges of pain in his eyes. I almost feel bad for dragging the story out of him, but I do not like being lied to either, so it must be done. "Like y'said, I'm not tha' old, but I lost m' dad 'n mum real early on. Dad was th' shaman of our tribe so I was set to take his place, o' course. I didn't have much time t' learn under him, though, so I had to go to our sister tribe, the Alarit'nurkol, to learn under their shaman. I... I messed up, while I was there." He lifts a paw out of the blankets and wipes his nose on it. "I didn't mix th' right herbs together. I never got th' hang of healing and I couldn't remember a lot of th' rituals at all. I'm not cut out t' be a shaman. I was a failure, but I tried! I tried so damn hard!" His voice breaks. I don't know whether it is his Curse or simply seeing a younger canine in turmoil that makes me want to go over and comfort him. I don't, but I feel the urge. As a concession, I do reach out with Crane's help and burn away some of the emotional pain that is flaring up in the painted dog's mind. He continues after another moment. "I had friends tha' I hunted with in th' Alarit'nurkol. We were real good, too. I was able t' scrape by with my honor intact 'cause o' being such a good Huntmaster. At least, in th' eyes o' th' Alarit'nurkol. My own tribe wasn't as understandin' y'see. I was th' only one who coulda filled my dad's role, so we didn't have a shaman any more. Chief blamed me when he heard o' my failure, then forbade me from trading in our village."

Quinelia gasps at that, her paws flying up to her muzzle. "What kind of chief would do that?"

"He isn't a good one, tha's for sure. But he was th' strongest and th' alpha, so we didn't have much of a choice in th' matter. I was more or less exiled, an' I only had our sister tribe for any kind o' support. They couldn't do much for me at tha' point, then they chased me off too when I slept in the chief's son's house." He sniffs, then wipes his nose again. "Thought I had been draggin' th' boy down into devilry with me. Hawk showed up around then an' he helped me get by for a year or so on the outskirts, but then I just left. Nothin' for me there anymore but bad memories, y'know? No reason to keep the wound open."

The three of us are quiet for a span of three breaths, letting his words hang in the air. Quinelia is the first to move, and she slips around the fire to embrace the young dog. "Thank you for sharing the truth with us, friend Malaki. I know how hard that must have been."

Even with the sadness that had been evident in him, the hug gets him to perk up immediately. I reach out again with my Blessing and take the boy's distress into myself, then heave it into Crane's fire inside of me, watching as he perks up even further. He pulls back from the embrace and shuffles over to sit in front of me. He watches me carefully for a moment, and I shift against Rasithenuk under the gaze. "Yes, thank you for the truth. I apologize for the gruffness of the demand, but you understand its necessity."

He stares at me for another pawful of breaths. I blink once, twice, then thrice, before tilting my head. "Can I help you, pup?"

He grins wide in response. "Sorry, I jus' never seen a colonist like you before. What're yah?"

I blink again, surprised. I suppose I just expected people to understand what a jackal is. Quinelia and Rasithenuk never asked. "A jackal, of course. From Circushia, originally. I grew up just outside the slums of Saridale, in the northeast."

"You grew up in one of these... colonies?" I nod. "How are you so at ease around us Tribal folk? We had a couple colonists come through when I was really little, and they were always so rude. The Chief nearly had them killed for disrespecting our traditions."

I incline my head towards Rasithenuk and gesture at Quinelia. "These two saved me from a fire that would have otherwise claimed my life. I have had a bit of time to become accustomed to this way of life. Plus, of course, my Blessing has allowed me to come to terms with a lot more. Like the languages."

"Ohh... Crane gave yah Understanding, then? Hawk wasn't sure."

"Yes, he did. I thought this was already apparent." My patience with the pup is wearing thin again. My tail actually twitches against Rasithenuk's. "Is there anything else?"

He stares at me with those big hazel eyes for a long, quiet moment, where the only noise around us is the crackling of the fire. Then he shakes his head and smiles at me. "Nah, I think I'm good f'now." He scoots over closer to the fire and stretches out under his blanket. He seems perfectly at ease with the world, even after spilling what I imagine is his tightest held secret. I do envy him that. Not much, considering what he's gone through, but enough.

Though with Rasithenuk settled in at my side, exuding that healing warmth of his, I'm fairly at ease myself. We have our whole party all together now, I suppose. The chosen four of the Sky Spirit, gathered as we should be. "Well, the four of us are together at last. I suppose our Totems now just poof off to the Highest Mother and grab us a map, right? We're in this wonderfully frigid land of spiritualism for that reason, no?" I look to Rasithenuk for some kind of confirmation. Instead I see Hummingbird resting between the canine's ears.

"The Sky Spirit has been silent thus far as to our final goal, Blessed One. Crane and I continue to seek Her guidance, but for now I advise patience. Raven and Hawk can seek out any changes that are unnatural." Though the small bird does not move, I can hear him clearly. I have no doubt the others can as well.

Crane appears next to me and strides forward towards the painted dog. His calculating gaze sweeps over both the young dog and his totem spirit. "Eyes of a hawk indeed. Hawk You should be guiding this young soul, not feeding his ego. His is the Curse of Isolation and you know this. Keep a better watch on your blessed one."

Speaking my thoughts there, Crane. I look between the two pairs of hazel eyes, both stunned and wide. I guess Spirits can be intimidated too. "Alright, well with that out of the way, how about we get some supplies together." I look away from Crane and Malaki, turning instead to Rasithenuk. "Let's take a little stroll over to the Krillik'toa, shall we?"