Pale light filtered in behind us, illuminating parts of the one-room cabin the Sparrow Speaker called home. And if I had any stereotypes in my head about what a mountain hermit would look like, he checked every box.
Unkept beard reaching the floor? Check. Older than dirt? Check. Unsettling milky eyes worn down by the burden of years of wisdom? Check. Ragged brown homespun clothes? Check.
I wonder if he made those from the fur of mountain goats? I thought.
The Sparrow Speaker's hair was an unkept mane that put whatever Samson grew through the years to shame. His skin carried more wrinkles than a heist plan from Danny Ocean, but he looked perfectly content with the state his years had left him in.
Sitting cross-legged on a large fur rug in the center of his room, small birds perched all around him, the Sparrow Speaker only said three words to greet his visitors.
"Shut the door."
Wow. Profound, I thought, doing just that. Katira came inside, but Grey Paws and Streak were too busy running around and playing in the snow.
I looked at them for a moment, and they stopped to stare my way.
"Paw at the door if you want in, okay?" I said.
They each gave a small bark and went right back to rolling around, tackling each other.
"So that's where huskies get it," I muttered, trying to remember the name of a popular video app where I'd seen so many clips of huskies moaning and refusing to come inside when called as snow fell.
After a minute, I gave up trying to remember the name. It was traded for some other memory that I'd yet to tap into from Ruka.
Red and Pyra shuffled uncomfortably behind me while we waited for who would speak to the hermit. He decided to fill the air with words first.
"So. . . the birds were right. Ruka the Wolf Goddess has returned to our world. Unfortunately for my curiosity, they didn't happen to catch how exactly you snuck your way past Death and came back," he said.
His voice carried a surprisingly rich tone for a man his age.
"Unless your sparrows can cross the threshold into the afterlife, I'm afraid that's not something they'd be privy to," I said, clearing my throat.
The Sparrow Speaker's mouth twitched at the end, but his heart rate stayed the same. I wondered if he did hear from birds that went to the great beyond and back.
Seems to me like that'd be cheating, but what I do care how this man gets his info? I thought.
"I assume you're here for information. Not many folks make the trek up the mountain. You're the first visitors I've had in seven months," he said.
Pyra stepped forward a little and said, "We'd also appreciate shelter, too. The storm outside only seemed to be getting worse."
Nodding as though that was the most reasonable thing we'd said thus far, the hermit rubbed his chin.
"Well naturally. I can't offer much, but my code demands you have access to what little I possess. That includes shelter against the forces of nature and some of the thinnest soup you've ever seen," he said.
I cleared my throat.
"We're very grateful for your hospitality. Though I couldn't help but notice information wasn't included in your list of things we have access to," Red said, standing on my other side.
There was that twitch at the end of his mouth again.
"Well, no. That didn't make the list. Because I don't offer the words of my birds freely," he said.
I exchanged glances with Red. She didn't seem to be surprised by this. Though I wondered what sort of payment a mountain hermit would require. He didn't exactly seem like the type to use any sort of money or valuables, not that we had either to spare.
Looking around the cabin, I saw he didn't own much. There was a little cot over by his fireplace, a cooking pot bubbling with something that smelled vaguely of soup, a stack of books and scrolls in the opposite corner, and a little section on the wall where several worn tools hung. I suspected those were what allowed him to survive up here all by himself.
Oh, and of course, everywhere I looked, there were tiny sparrows covered in brown, black, and white feathers. Feathers littered the floor, along with a strange seed I'd never seen before, covered in a dark red shell with a little white spot in the center. An oily layer covered the outside of the seeds.
So those are what the birds fly so far to eat, I thought, trying and failing to count how many birds were in the house with us right now. There must have been more than 100, each with secrets they carried across Gyrelle. I wondered how he spoke with them.
"So, what will you accept in trade for information?" Pyra asked, crossing her arms and looking at all the birds hopping around from the floor to the rafters.
The hermit took a moment to rub his beard.
"Let's see. I assume the Wolf Goddess would like to know where the remaining pieces of her heart lie," he said, closing one eye and standing slowly. "You know, it's not often I get fresh meat up here on the mountain. Surely you wouldn't mind parting with the little fox? I could definitely use the pelt to—"
The Sparrow Speaker didn't get the chance to say another word as my body rushed forward before I'd even had time to process his sentence. With my ears flattened and claws extended, I slammed the old man into the hearth of his little chimney, causing birds to scatter and fly around everywhere.
My fangs glistened as my hand around the hermit's throat twitched. He struggled to breathe, and I let loose a most guttural growl that rattled the floorboards.
Breathing in slow, short bursts, I lowered my canines to his face and grunted, "Her name is Katira. She is pack. And I would sooner rip your still-beating heart from its chest than allow you to lay even a single finger on her, Sparrow Speaker."
I'd never experienced rage like this before, arms shaking, eyes narrowing, shoulders tensed. Was this the rage of a goddess who felt her pack threatened?
"Easy now, Rook. He's not going to take Katira. We all know you'd never let anything happen to her," Pyra said, taking one tiny step toward me. My wife didn't move.
I tightened my grip on the hermit's neck as he gasped for air, and his face started to lose its color.
"That tells me. . . all I need to know. I have no interest in Katira, Wolf Goddess. She is pack, yours and yours alone," he managed to choke out one word at a time.
"I am the goddess that fished her from the raging river," I growled. "Katira will run at my side, eat at my side, and sleep at my side until she draws her last breath. And don't you forget it, mortal."
It didn't seem like anything could release this rage inside of me, the thought of having a pack member taken from me, not until Katira padded across the floor and pawed at my knee. She kept it there until I looked away from the hermit I was slowly strangling.
Her amber eyes locked with mine, and I let out a long breath. Slowly, the rage faded, and I got the feeling she wanted me to let the old man go. So, I did.
Stepping back and staring at my claws, I was left grappling with the emergence of this instinct that took over the moment Katira's safety was called into question.
Leaning down, I grabbed the smaller canine and buried my face in her poofed orange fur.
"You are mine, Katira. I won't let anyone take you," I said as she chortled in the way only foxes can.
To his credit, the Sparrow Speaker didn't fall to his knees upon release. He just limped over to a window and grabbed a glass of water I hadn't noticed previously.
"I trade information," he said, putting the empty glass down. "And what I've just learned from your reaction is you are and are not Ruka the Wolf Goddess my grandfather told me stories of."
Red walked over and stroked the back of my head, sending a shiver down my spine that didn't stop until I found my heartbeat slowing and my focus dulling.
"The fierceness you displayed when protecting your pack matches the stories he told me exactly. Nothing is more important to Ruka the Wolf Goddess than her pack, not even the hunt. But what doesn't quite add up is the fact that you've allowed, not one, but two vixens into your pack," the Sparrow Speaker said, pointing from Katira in my arms to Pyra standing behind me.
He continued, "I can only conclude that you're not the same Ruka who died at the hands of the Bear God 200 years ago. But what you are, I cannot say."
I sighed.
Like I know exactly what I am, I thought.
That was the question I'd been grappling with arriving in Gyrelle. I thought becoming Ruka was my only goal, but after Pyra's words hit me like a sack of bricks back in DuPais, I'd decided that I wanted at least some part of Lea to live as well. Maybe telling the Sparrow Speaker my story would help me make sense of everything.
"Okay, Sparrow Speaker. You want to trade information? I'll tell you exactly who and what I am in exchange for the location of my remaining heart pieces," I said.
Now a small smile came to his face, as though I hadn't just been choking him to death over threats to Katira.
"You have a deal. Let us talk over soup," he said, fetching some of the ugliest wooden bowls I'd ever seen from a small crate he kept under the window.
A few minutes later, we were all served a helping of. . . some of the thinnest soup imaginable. Even Molly Grue had never cooked a soup this thin. It looked like a mixture of broth and water filled with some kind of thinly chopped grass and little white specs that had the faintest whiff of onion.
The Sparrow Speaker wasted no time raising the bowl to his mouth and drinking the soup. Pyra followed next, and when she didn't immediately die, I took another whiff of my soup. This time I detected a hint of carrot, though I saw none in the bowl.
"If you're wondering what's in the soup, it's four basic things," Pyra said, in between slurping her bowl dry. Her rubbery black nose was wet with broth, tiny droplets hanging from her whiskers.
She pointed to my soup.
"It's a mushroom broth, likely made from fungi he found in a nearby cave, carrot thistle, which grows near the bottom of the mountain, wild onions, and snowmelt," Pyra said.
I raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know all that?"
The bard smiled and set her bowl down. She looked at Katira, who was curled up in my lap, and then back at me.
"My brother makes stuff like this all the time. It's what he calls forager's grub," Pyra said.
"You have a brother?" I asked, stupidly. "I don't think you've ever talked about your family."
A distant and cold expression fell over Pyra's face for a moment, and I wondered where her mind went to. It wasn't with us in the cabin anymore, some far-off memory? One of her fingers twitched before her gaze found mine.
She allowed a fond warmth to greet her lips and flashed me a loving look I hadn't seen since we danced together in the candlelight.
"Overn," she said. "My brother's name is Overn. He's about 30 years my senior, and we don't connect as often as I wish we did."
I grew silent and decided to give the soup a try. It wasn't nearly as awful as I expected and by far not the worst thing I'd ever tasted. Ruka had once eaten a flower on a dare that tasted like licking a buffalo's butthole. She was sick for two days. And Lea had tried some kind of canned meat in college that made her puke. What was it called? It was pink, had a super simple single-syllable name. . . I couldn't recall. But I hated it.
Anyway, the soup was edible.
"Overn was pretty much the one who raised me after my mother split," Pyra said, sighing. "He was always so kind to me and helped me develop my musical skill. He even gave me the fiddle I used before it was smashed to pieces outside just before we met."
I took another sip of my soup and nodded while I listened to the demigod talk about her brother. As she spoke, it was almost like watching Pyra view those memories from such a great distance. I don't even think she was aware of how spaced out she appeared.
"We were always on the move because of demigod hunters. Some of them started making enchanted glasses that would see through our illusion spells. Had a few close calls, but I always felt safe with Overn there to protect me. He killed three men with a rock just to keep me safe while I hid in some nearby bushes. I suppose most kids would have freaked out, but me? I just felt. . . secure. To know someone is willing to kill to protect you? I think that's the ultimate form of feeling protected," Pyra said.
Without warning, the bard hummed a bittersweet melody, and I think everyone in the room got the feeling it might have been something intimate shared between fox siblings. Maybe a song Overn sang Pyra to sleep at night when she was little or a tune they carried before setting out on a new journey.
In my soup, I saw a figure rise from the broth, outlined in the thin grass, a body given form. The figure looked to be a man with fox ears and a bushy tail. On his shoulders sat a younger girl, hand raised, pointing up at the sky. This must have been a memory for Pyra, some treasured moment she shared with the only other person in her life the demigod could depend on.
When Pyra finished humming her tune on a long solemn note, the figures sank back down into my half-eaten soup.
It was at that point I saw Katira's nose twitch, and her head perked up. I'd had all the soup I was going to eat and decided to set it down in front of her. She finished it off without hesitation while I stroked her fur from her neck to her tail.
"I think that's what Katira felt today, you know?" Pyra asked.
That comment caught me off guard as I remembered the speed with which my body moved to attack the Sparrow Speaker.
"First you pluck her from floodwaters and then bring your claws to the throat of a man who seemingly asked to take her away from the pack. I'd wager she loves you as much as any one of your followers through the years," Pyra said as the fox gave a little giggle finishing her soup.
"Well. . . she's pack. I'd do anything to protect the pack," I said, as the vixen rolled onto her back, stretched her legs and toes, and fell fast asleep. That brought a little smile to my face.
We sat in silence for a moment, and that's when the Sparrow Speaker chose to take over the conversation.
"I've agreed to your bargain, Wolf Goddess. Speak to me of your return to Gyrelle from Death. Do this, and I will tell you what I've heard about your remaining pieces of heart," he said.
My wife put her soup down with a frown on her face.
"If you trade for information, how do we know you won't just offer this information to someone else later? Like the Bear God."
We all waited to hear the Sparrow Speaker's answer, and to my astonishment, he shattered his empty soup bowl into shards with a furious grip. He gritted his teeth, and I watched as he now displayed the same level of rage as I did earlier.
"Know this, Jenny Red the Huntsman. I offer the following information without cost."
The sparrows in the room fluttered about again, clearly stressed for the second time today. Feathers scattered, and wings beat down the air.
"I am the last of the Hidari, a reclusive group of monks who worship the mountain where you currently find yourself. We've been here for centuries. But when I finally die in the snow, taken into the bosom of the rock below, our beliefs, our code, and our knowledge, will be no more. Our numbers have never been great, but 50 years ago, the Bear God showed up here, demanding we share every secret the birds have carried us. He offered no payment. And when my father refused him, the god massacred everyone in sight.
The snow on the eastern slope was stained red for weeks because of this.
So understand, I would not give that blind, raging divine one sentence of my carefully-piled secrets. No threat, no payment, no torment, would change my mind."
My jaw might as well have been on the floor ensuring all I'd eat for the rest of my days was hermit soup. In his rage, the old man appeared to have regressed several years, decades even to take on the appearance of a monk in his early 40s. His aura was different now as he carried himself with a surefire stature that was dormant until this moment.
Rage does different things to everyone, I thought. Bro went from looking 200 to 42, and all it took was being reminded of the anger he carried.
But the more I thought about it, I realized rage had spurred a transformation of my own. In my anger over the idea of losing Katira, a piece of the original Ruka had rushed forward, fierceness on full display.
Red was right to worry about my story finding its way into the ears of the Bear God. But if it did, he wouldn't gain that information from the Sparrow Speaker.
"You speak truly, Sparrow Speaker. Now allow me to speak my truth. You are right. I am and am not Ruka the Wolf Goddess," I started.
He exhaled and slowly turned to lock eyes with me, his chest rising and falling with each tense minute as I continued my story.
"I was once a mortal girl named Lea from a world called — uh, well, I guess Earth is the best name for it, though it feels weird saying that. The slain spirit of Ruka appeared to me and asked me to merge with her, reincarnating in this world and taking her place as the Wolf Goddess. I have only a piece of her memories and power, but with each piece of heart I consume, I regain more."
Pyra stared at me now.
"And it appears that when I complete this process. . . I will be the Wolf Goddess your grandfather spoke of once more," I said, unable to meet the demigod's eyes.
On my other side, I heard Red's jaw clench. That was exactly what she wanted a day ago. Where did her true feelings lie now?
The Sparrow Speaker took a long time to process this, and we all sat in silence while he got up, fetched a new bowl, and ate another helping of soup.
Outside, the wind continued to howl, and I heard a chunk of ice strike one of the cabin's walls. But we remained safe and warm inside, as Katira did in my lap. This was not the first storm for the cabin to endure, and it wouldn't be the last.
At last, the knowledge broker spoke: "Which do you prefer I speak to you as? Lea or Ruka? What are you called?"
There were technicalities about my identity I might never be able to solve, but for this, a simple answer would suffice.
"I am Ruka the Wolf Goddess. Lea will always be part of me if I have my way, but since arriving here I've found that I. . . take great joy in helping people. . . as only a goddess can. My power is meager, but what miracles I'm able to dole out to those in need I wish to continue sharing."
Warmth stirred within my heart, and my divine mark took on a silver sheen as I spoke.
"This world has its Wolf Goddess back, whether I'm me or her. That's the most important thing I can tell you without an ounce of hesitation," I said.
The ends of the Sparrow Speaker's mouth twitched and curled upward for a moment before resuming a more neutral expression befitting a mountain sage.
"I've heard of your deeds in DuPais and Decarth, Ruka. Not that my judgment means anything, but if your sole goal is to help others with your power, I'd say you're going to be a wonderful addition to this world. As for your remaining three pieces of heart, I believe Luhu was going to tell me what he's heard," the hermit said.
We all grew quiet again, and I felt Red's hand on one shoulder and Pyra's on the other.
The Sparrow Speaker held up his right hand, and the smallest sparrow I'd seen in the house fluttered over to it from the rafters above. The brown feathers on his back carried a bit more of a clay hue than most of the other birds here with us. He hopped across the speaker's fingers, head tilted left and right, only offering a tiny chirp when he reached the monk's wrist.
"Will you please share your secret with me?" he asked in a gentle voice that sounded as though he'd spoken that question many times before.
I couldn't make out what the sparrow told him as he held the bird up to his right ear, just a few chirps and pips. After a minute or two, the Sparrow Speaker lowered his hand and reached into a pocket with his other fingers, coming back with a few seeds like I'd seen scattered on the ground.
Luhu took them, spreading the seeds out along his peanut-colored beak, and hopped over closer to the window, where he dropped the seeds and began to peck at them, one by one.
The whole exchange took less than two minutes and seemed loads more mundane than I anticipated.
"That's it?" I asked. "I figured talking to birds would be a little more flashy."
Smiling in full for the first time, the Sparrow Speaker fetched a third helping of soup. He sipped once or twice before responding.
"You're a goddess, Ruka. Magic and spells are meant to be powerful when wielded by your hands or that grimoire you've spent centuries writing in. But for a simple mountain worshipper like me, a little whisper from my lips to the beak of a bird is more than enough. Sometimes, Wolf Goddess, it's the small wishes that hold the most power. For it's my skill that brought a goddess and her pack to me today. I did not seek you out, divine one."
His rebuke was gentle, but I understood what he was trying to say all the same. And he was right. I needed what he had, whether it was flashy or not.
"Luhu tells me you're not the only person who has been searching for the pieces of your heart. It seems a dedicated group of your followers started only a decade after your death trying to find them all."
I frowned.
"Nobody should remember me outside of this room," I said. "It's been 200 years since Gyrelle had a Wolf Goddess. So how do I have a group of followers left that's been searching for my heart across the decades?"
Another sip of soup for the hermit.
"Maybe calling them your followers now is a little bit of a misnomer. Their grandparents and great-grandparents were. But today? They're a cult calling themselves the Order of the Fang," the Sparrow Speaker said.
My wife snickered and looked down at her empty soup bowl. I didn't blame her. That was a pretty silly name for a cult. Then again, cults were all pretty silly in and of themselves, even if they worshipped me— or used to.
"I wouldn't laugh or dismiss them out of hand, Jenny Red. They've actually been quite efficient. Luhu told me they have the remaining three pieces of Ruka's heart."
Red and Pyra gasped, but I remained silent, the single piece of heart in my chest thumping hard. Shit, this was an amazing turn of events, right?
"Well hallelujah. That brings our quest to a pretty speedy close, right? All we have to do is go get them. Talk about saving us legwork," I said, relief flooding my veins. This called for a celebration. Maybe I'd have another bowl of soup after all. But the Sparrow Speaker didn't seem as happy as I was.
All I could do was raise an eyebrow until he explained.
"True, you no longer have to search for the other three pieces. They are together in one place, the village of Mykova. But I doubt they'd be willing to just surrender the pieces, even to you, Wolf Goddess. They've been working on plans for your pieces of heart for years, truly treacherous schemes, according to Luhu."
Just like that, all the relief in my veins evaporated, replaced with adrenaline spiking and kicking my stomach down into the pit of my intestines.
"What plans?" Red asked, head tilted to the left.
The Sparrow Speaker considered his next words carefully before answering. Then he looked at my wife to address her question directly.
"The Order of the Fang has been gathering more than Ruka's heart. They've also worked feverishly to get their hands on as many wolves as possible, filling the town with them. On top of that, they've managed to find Ruka's last known descendant, a girl of about eight or nine years. The leader of the cult is a dark sorcerer of extraordinary wickedness and no shortage of magical talent. While my sparrow didn't understand the finer points of his magic, Luhu did understand the basic goal, to use the power of those heart pieces, the blood of wolves, and a living descendant of Ruka to create their own Wolf Goddess," the Sparrow Speaker said.
Red was up before I could react. She was grabbing her axes and heading toward the door when Pyra got in her way.
I was left feeling as though my legs were being weighed down with chains and an anvil. Nothing would move. My breathing turned ragged. What once seemed like great news had become the worst thing I'd heard since returning to Gyrelle.
"Listen to me, Jenny Red. It's still storming like crazy, and you haven't recovered enough strength to make it down the mountain. I know you want to storm off to Mykova and get your axes bloody, but we need to wait out the blizzard first," the bard said.
When the huntsman made a move to walk past her, she was betrayed by her legs and started to collapse, having stood up too fast and still carrying weakness from the corruption I'd purged from her body.
Pyra caught my wife before she fell and held her steady. And where I expected anger or impatience from Red, I was stunned to find camaraderie.
"We need to stop them," Red said, wiping some sweat from her forehead.
"We will," Pyra said. "As Rook carried you up the mountain, I now carry you back to the fire's warmth. We are pack, Jenny Red. And that's how we'll stop the Order of the Fang. . . as a pack."
Their eyes met, and for the first time since I'd seen the two together, I witnessed understanding between them. It was as light as a flickering candle, but the illumination was there all the same.
"You three are welcome to stay here tonight. I'm sure the storm will clear out early tomorrow, at which point, you can immediately depart for Mykova."
Not long after that, I heard pawing at the door. I let Grey Paws and Steak in for the night, and all of us were quick to sleep on skins and blankets the Sparrow Speaker offered us.
All night long the storm raged, and I awoke to the sound of logs creaking from the fierceness of it all. But the cabin held firm, resilient, determined to keep this little haven of warmth intact.
Before I drifted back off, I took note of the position of my animals. Streak and Grey Paws were on either side of me, but who was resting on my breasts, wet nose nestled against my chin? The one and only Katira, covering my heart and chittering in my sleep, front paws twitching.
Scoffing, I slowly wrapped my arms around her and went back to sleep.
As the Sparrow Speaker predicted, the storm faded by the next morning. We got up, ate a quick bite, and started down the mountain with a new direction before us.
Starting down the mountain, we took things slow, all eyes on the huntsman, who was walking on her own for now. My wife continued to handle her walking until she came to a stop with a puzzled look on her face.
The pack stopped, and I locked eyes with her.
"What's wrong? Do you need to rest?"
She shook her head before cocking it to the side again,
"Ruru. . . one thing doesn't add up from what the Sparrow Speaker told us. How exactly do you have a descendant, anyway?"