Blackfeather Woods tillojak

The shaman child was not altogether sure that following the spirit was the wisest decision. The moments that it took him to chase after her had been only a fraction of time. He had not truly even weighed the risk against the reward. Something within him had suggested that he would not find harm if he were to follow her; that she was only a small spirit, designed for teaching him in ways that the larger spirits could not. The size she had been granted proved to be something of a comfort for him. Sos felt a kindred air between them that was difficult to put into words. Perhaps because he knew so few of them at his age, but more than that; he felt as though he did not have anything to fear when he was surrounded by life. His mother would have warned him of the opposite, but there were things that he did not listen to - no matter their weight or well meaning.

Lost in the prospect of what was to come, the youthful bear did not realize that he had lost sight of his white spirit guide. There was a fleeting moment of fear at this thought, as though he had done something terribly wrong to cause her to leave. His young brow creased in a worried expression and he slowed his pace down dramatically. Before long, Sos was left to a slow stagger as he sniffed the air for any signs of her. So drawn into his own thoughts, the boy didn’t notice her until after she had erupted from the brush and struck against his frame. The bear grunted and felt the air leave his lungs as he was wrestled to the ground. In that moment, he could only see stars dancing just behind a film of black.

When he finally inhaled, the spirit child was atop him. He laughed a winded laugh and kicked with his back legs to try and free his frame from her grip.