Phantom Hollow You can't just snap your fingers and expect me to be there.

And so the boy had been driven from the village: first to the ruined glen, then to the woods just beyond, until he could run no further and came to collapse where the river pinwheeled.

His head was throbbing. He was dizzy, disoriented, and stunk of old blood.

Here where the water churned the fallen leaves, where everything smelled steeped, wet, and dead, the boy who nobody wanted sprawled carelessly, as if to invite the water to crawl up the bank and snare him.

A blessing or a curse would find the battered boy.
Nyra, in all her scarred glory.
Still healing from the fight with the cougar she killed, tattered but ever the mighty shieldmaiden. 

The Grandmaster chuffed to announce her presence, head level with her shoulders.
He looked pitiful, and while the mother in her wanted to draw him close and give comfort, the warmaiden in her desired to make him into a hardened beast, should she be able to sink in her talons. 

"Do you need a home?" Nyra purled softly to the boy. It was a gentle rumble, as if she might be some sort of divine intervention into the harshness that had been his life so far, not that she knew this.

The boy lay so dangerously close to the edge of the river that, where it to override its limits, he would easily be swept away.

It was unfortunate for him that there had been no substantial rainfall in the past week, or he might have been successful in summoning the spirit of the river to come and eat him; instead, where he wished the white foaming of the river would sweep up and over the bank to lick him from the stone escarpment, there came something much more dangerous - a bloodied, pale beast of a woman.

She danced an offer to him. He was more surprised by the fact he could hear it clearly, with the river rushing loudly by, and his ear a coagulated mess, and the pounding in his neck that hadn't stopped since Shikoba's teeth had marked him.

A home, she'd said?

No.

The boy barely moved; his dark eyes turned to where the woman stood, or tried to look at her, but saw only the width of her feet and the black claws there, hazy and unclear. He was being petulant. It was all he had left, and he'd stick to it even if it hurt him in the end.

No He said.
Nyra chuckled softly and came up beside him, taking a sit where he could fully see her.

"I can give you one, if you want a home. Make you stronger, sharpen your skills, or give you new ones. Be born anew." Nyra watched the currently-nameless youth with a patient gaze, one that wanted to help him.

Though she'd probably drag him, if it came down to it. Nyra was desperate, though currently unwilling to admit this fact. 
The Saints needed to be strong for the coming winter, and she knew as well as any wolf that surviving alone, without numbers, was extremely difficult.

The ringing in his head was one thing, the pounding in his neck, but her voice brought something new to the equation. He found himself trying to ignore her; but she spoke of things he knew he needed, even if he did not want to admit it to himself, and it all came down to one sentiment.

In exchange for...?

Everything was transactional. Ursus had taught him that much. Moonglow had forced the message through, loud and clear. He'd hurt them and so they'd hurt him back. If this woman was going to offer him something like life - what sort of trade was she after?

He made it clear something was expected to be given in return for her offer.
And it was a valid question.

Nyra smiled a bit wider "Your loyalty." she responded.
It was all she wanted, summed up in two words. His dedication to her pack, his loyalty too.
This, in exchange for her to mold him into something fierce. 

"My name is Nyra. I am the Alpha of the Saints." Quietly she awaited his response, and perhaps see if he had a name, or if he needed to be given one.

What could he give in exchange? It depended on what they would ask for. More blood, maybe; a pound of flesh, perhaps. Kiliutak did not know what would be requested until finally the woman stated her great desire - and it was something that the boy could hardly spare.

Loyalty.

It sounds so simple. Loyalty came with trust and trust was not something Kiliutak was capable of generating for anyone; but if it meant he would survive his maiming and potentially grow stronger for it, there wasn't really a choice.

My name is Nyra. Spoke the ghost woman. She seemed to be expecting something - more than just his acceptance of the terms, which he continued to mull over in silence.

When the boy finally spoke up again, he was rising from his sprawled position and letting his head hang, eyes squinting from the pain that radiated up and down his neck, throbbing where his ear once sat. He didn't meet the woman's gaze but he did clear his throat and say, I'm nobody.

She watched him rise, and she too got to her paws to watch him hang his head and speak.

I'm nobody The boy says.

Nyra hmmed in thought...

"If you accept my terms and invitation, then I will give you the name 'Fang'. A name I fully believe you will grow into and own." She smiled, genuine belief in the battered boy before her. 

Patiently, she would await his decision.

Fade here?

Fang? Was that who he was supposed to be now?

It lacked the finesse of the moonwoman's language, lacking the resonance. It didn't matter either way what he was called — it wouldn't change the fact that he was less than dirt, something to be pitied, and certainly it was the pity shared by Nyra that ensured his survival now.

Fang. He tested it upon his tongue possessively, and as he stood up intent to follow Nyra wherever her claim was, it appeared as though the boy had made up his mind, and looked carefully, shrewdly, upon Nyra in anticipation - it was time to go home.