Snow crunched underfoot in the training yard as the cold sun climbed over Duskwind Hollow, casting long silver-blue shadows across the beaten earth. The air smelled of iron and pine resin. Boys from the younger generation of the clan—some barely past their ninth year—moved in ragged lines, mimicking the basic stances of the Wolf Fang Spear Form under the barking voice of none other than Li Feng.
Li Feng's Bronze-Back Wolf spirit hovered behind him in translucent form, its frame shimmering with earthy light and the illusion of power. His movements were sharp, aggressive, full of showmanship.
"Your stances are soft!" he snapped, walking between lines. "You'd get torn apart in the first snow hunt. Raise your knees! Anchor your core!"
The boys tried, most failing. Some glanced toward the side of the yard, where a silent figure stood under the skeletal branches of an old ash tree—Li Rong, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.
He hadn't joined the drills. He never did.
He trained before dawn, alone, in the frozen hollow where even wolves wouldn't prowl. No one had invited him to train with the clan's younger fighters. No one had dared.
Not after the Spirit Awakening.
Not after that Duskwither Moonfang Wolf had unfurled from his soul like a specter of darkness and silver flame.
They feared it. They feared him.
And he preferred it that way.
In the yard, a boy stumbled again—Hu Yan, shorter than most, with a heavyset frame and broad hands better suited for chopping wood than elegant footwork. His face was red from cold and shame, his Grey-Fleck Wolf spirit flickering with instability as he failed to maintain the stance for the third time.
Li Feng turned, already sneering. "You again. Can't even hold a basic posture? I suppose your family's weak bloodline finally showed."
Hu Yan lowered his head, eyes burning.
Li Feng stepped forward and slapped the shaft of his training spear against Hu Yan's thigh.
"Get up. Or go home and help your mother wash clothes."
Silence followed, taut and uncomfortable. The other boys didn't laugh. Some flinched. No one intervened.
Except one.
A voice, cool and even, drifted from beneath the ash tree.
"Is bullying part of your training now, Li Feng?"
Li Feng froze. Slowly, he turned.
Li Rong stepped from the shadows, hands still folded inside his cloak. His eyes—those pale, dusk-lit eyes—rested on Li Feng with no emotion. Just calculation.
Li Feng's nostrils flared. "This has nothing to do with you."
"It does if you make it clan business," Li Rong replied. "Or do you only show strength when someone is smaller than you?"
The air thickened.
Hu Yan looked between them, confused and tense.
Li Feng took a step forward. "You really think you're something just because your spirit looks strange? The elders haven't even ranked it."
"And yet, it made you shut up," Li Rong said softly.
A few boys choked on laughter. Li Feng's eyes blazed.
"This isn't over."
"I'm sure it isn't," Li Rong replied.
Then he turned and walked away, leaving the tension behind him like a dying fire.
That evening, Li Rong sat alone on the steps outside his family's lodge. The snow had hardened to ice across the yard, and smoke curled from the nearby chimney in thin spirals.
The sky above Duskwind Hollow was vast and bruised, the moon sharp against the dark.
Footsteps crunched behind him.
He didn't look.
Hu Yan stood there, fidgeting with a bundle wrapped in cloth. "I… brought something. For earlier."
Li Rong didn't answer.
"I know you didn't say anything for me," Hu Yan continued, voice awkward. "But thank you anyway."
Li Rong finally turned. Hu Yan unwrapped the bundle—a strip of smoked wolf meat and a pouch of sweet root tea leaves. Simple, but precious for a boy without rank or favor.
Li Rong studied him.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Hu Yan blinked. "I—I don't want anything. I just… thought maybe…"
He trailed off.
Li Rong took the offering and set it beside him. "You were brave to show up again."
Hu Yan laughed nervously. "I'm not brave. I'm just too dumb to run."
Li Rong looked away. "Dumb wolves don't survive long."
"Then maybe I'm stubborn," Hu Yan said after a pause. "I don't want to be like my cousins. They hide every time someone raises a voice. I don't want to be like that."
Li Rong nodded slowly. "Then don't be."
Another silence settled between them, not awkward this time—just still.
"What's your spirit like?" Li Rong asked.
"Grey-Fleck Wolf," Hu Yan said. "It's… decent. Strong body, but slow. Can't compete with Lin Feng's kind."
"Strength isn't in blood alone," Li Rong murmured. "It's in how you use it."
Hu Yan tilted his head. "What's your plan?"
"I don't need one," Li Rong replied. "I only need time."
Later that night, after Hu Yan had gone home, Li Rong returned to his room. He sat cross-legged in the dark, his mind still and body calm.
The moonlight through the window touched the sigil on his palm.
He fed a thread of spirit power into it.
The Duskwither Moonfang Wolf stirred.
Not in aggression.
Not in hunger.
But in approval.
A pack begins with one.
And now, he had found his first.