Beneath the dim light of the sun casting shadows across the white plain, the old man and the young boy passed by the guards. It was the middle of the cold months, yet a pleasant warmth ruled over Anarika. The plain was submerged in purple flowers blooming among the snow, and the wheat, taller than ever, had left the black cranes intoxicated by this delightful summer nourishment. On the horizon, five moons were clearly visible, and in contrast with the ever-radiant rising sun, they created a mythic spectacle.

  Befal was almost running as he followed Jozma Father. The elder moved hastily toward the mountains without paying any attention to what lay behind him. Breathless, Befal said, “By the Moons… what is wrong? Why did you wake me in secret and bring me out with you?”

  Without looking at the boy, Jozma Father said firmly, “Move faster! Time is short.”

  They walked through the mountains for several hours until Befal’s legs began to ache and he sat down on a stone, panting. “I can’t go on anymore… are you trying to kill me?”

  “Hush! We’re almost there. It’s here. Come this way,” Jozma Father replied.

  Limping, Befal moved toward Jozma Father, who was hiding behind a large rock, and peeked out from behind it curiously. The mountain was split in two by a ravine, and on the other side, a large pack of wolves was feeding on a small bear. Seeing wolves for the first time, Befal stumbled back a few steps in fear, the color draining from his face. Stammering, he said, “Th-they’re w… w… wolves?”

  Jozma Father nodded and then, in a voice barely audible, said, “It’s a large pack… look behind them. Do you see the ruins?”

  Befal looked and saw the remains of Anarikian huts a few hundred meters away from the wolf pack.

  Jozma Father continued, “I was born there. In those huts I took my first breath and stepped into this world. I ate my first meal there and saw my first death there as well. My tribe was a very large one—more than a hundred Etna and Ima, and many children who lived in joy and abundance. Until the day two wolves appeared beyond that mountain.

  Naturally, they drove the two wolves away, but there was something strange about them. They neither attacked nor fled. It was as if something inside them was wrong. Their gaze was unsettling—without emotion, empty of everything. It sent shivers through the body. For several days the wolves did not leave, and then suddenly they were gone.

  Jozma of our tribe would always tell us stories—about Enan Befal. You’ve heard his story, haven’t you?”

  Befal nodded in confirmation.

  Jozma Father continued, “What the stories no longer tell is about the day they opened the doors. Behind the door of the hut where Enan Befal was born, they found a large bear lying dead. The bear’s claws were sunk deep into the soil of the hut, but it had not managed to tear it open. No one knew what had killed the bear, but its task had been left unfinished.

  They moved the bear, and suddenly a black creature fell out from inside it—a faceless being, entirely black. It was nothing like anything they had ever seen or heard of. Everyone was terrified. It had very long, sharp claws, and its body could take any shape. It was as though it had been hiding inside the bear’s skin and had died within it.

  The elders knew this creature was born of the Binding Sleep and the long nights—perhaps even the ruler of the nights. They named it the Skinwalker and vowed never to speak of it again. Several of the strongest among them carried the corpse and the skin toward the mountains, but no one ever saw them again.

  Jozma of our tribe believed that even now, sometimes, they can be seen among the rocks and behind the wheat fields, watching you with cold, emotionless eyes. As a child, I sometimes laughed at this story, and sometimes it frightened me—it was an exciting tale for idle hours.

  Until one day, after a hunt, two of the Etna did not return. A group was sent to search for them, but they found nothing and returned to the tribe. Five days later, both men returned alive—but from the moment they arrived, something about them was wrong. Their gaze is still vivid in my memory: lifeless, cold, and terrifying.

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  During the meal, they suddenly stood up and tore open their own bellies, and a black, faceless creature emerged from inside them—one that could take any form. One moment it was a dagger ripping through bodies, the next it was the fangs of a tiger tearing flesh away. It moved so fast we could not even follow it with our eyes.

  A few of us were lucky. We leapt across the ravine and fled toward the other side of the mountain. Only a handful of us survived—those who later founded this tribe—and we swore never to let it happen again. Since that day, we have watched this pack of wolves.

  Look at them again. Do you see the two wolves sitting on the higher rock, as if they are the leaders of the pack? Look into their eyes… what do you see?”

  Befal looked. In the eyes of both wolves he saw nothing but a deep void, as though there was nothing behind that gaze.

  “Nothing,” Befal replied.

  Jozma Father said, “All the wolves over these years have either died or grown old—but those two wolves are exactly as they were on the first day I saw them beyond the mountains overlooking my tribe.”

  Then he took a deep breath, turned to young Befal, and said, “There is something I must tell you. A few weeks ago, those two wolves left this place and went toward the sea. Yesterday, they returned. It seems they are preparing to move the pack. I am afraid. The wolves have remained here for years, beside my lost tribe… I fear they have found another tribe. I don’t know how to say this… it may be your tribe.”

  The color drained from Befal’s face, his mouth went dry, and in a single moment the faces of his tribespeople appeared before his eyes.

  Jozma Father continued, “Oh, my dear child… let us return to the others.”

  A few hours later, they were sitting in Jozma Father’s hut, joined by several of the elders. Befal still did not know the reason for this gathering, but turmoil raged within him.

  Pleading, Befal said, “You’re not going to let them become food for those Skinwalkers, are you?”

  Jozma replied, “No—but reaching the sea is difficult.”

  Another said, “Finding a path across the plain is hard for anyone, and the wolves move far faster than we do. We will never reach the tribe before them.”

  Befal cried out, “Please… you can’t do this… there must be a way! Aren’t all Anarikians one tribe? You must not abandon the Etna and Ima!”

  And suddenly, his warm tears began to fall.

  Kima burst into the hut and shouted, “What are you saying?! You want to abandon our tribe?! Befal, my dear, I followed you—I heard everything. You cannot and must not do this!”

  Befal turned to Jozma Father and said, “You know what it means to lose a tribe. Don’t do this to us.”

  Jozma Father looked away and murmured, “There is one way, but—”

  “But what?!” Kima shouted.

  One of the men began to speak. “For years, we have tried to approach the Khamos, but even our smallest is too heavy for the largest of them. A few years ago, we found a way: we tied several pieces of wood together with rope and fastened them to the body of a Khamos. When they run, the Khamos drag the wood behind them, and if someone rides on it, they might be able to travel with them. But it is extremely dangerous. It requires a nimble, slender child.”

  Silence fell over the group.

  Without hesitation, Befal said, “I am nimble, and I am slender. Let me go.”

  The men looked at one another.

  Kima stepped toward Befal, grasped his shoulders, and shook him as she cried, “No… no… you’ve only seen two springs, you can’t—” Then she turned to the men and said, “He is a child. Send me instead. You know how skilled I am in hunting and defense.”

  Jozma Father replied, “But you are far too heavy.”

  “There must be a way!” Kima shouted. “There has to be!”

  Jozma Father looked at Befal. “Are you sure you want to go, my son?”

  Kima tried to shield Befal behind her, but Befal stepped forward and answered firmly, “Yes. I want to go.”

  With pleading, tear-filled eyes, Kima looked at Befal and said, “Don’t do this!”

  Jozma Father said, “The decision is made. Tomorrow, before the sun rises, he will set out.”