The morning wind blew softly, as if whispering secrets through the leaves, and the branches creaked with a certain reverence. The cold still lingered, carrying the scent of wet earth, recent snow, and… something else. Something the others didn't seem to feel — but to Lukas, it pounded like a drum deep within his soul.
The footprints left in the riverbank mud were enormous — nearly the size of Lukas's entire body. The elder had approached the tracks with caution. He sniffed them, paused for a moment, and then summoned the adult wolves with a single, dry howl.
Lukas watched from afar, standing with the other pups. But his eyes never left the forest.
Lukas (thought):"Because of my roar… something is coming. I was once a historian and biologist in another life — I should know this."
The adults' voices grew serious. The pack began to move, like in ancient rituals: migration was an instinctive answer to danger. They would not face whatever was approaching. Not yet.
But Lukas… couldn't leave.
As the others followed the trail, he veered off. Slipped through the bushes, letting the mist hide his steps. His heart pounded hard. It wasn't fear — it was hunger for truth. A need that burned like embers inside.
Lukas (thought):"They're running… but something in me says I need to go the other way."
And then he felt it: a metallic scent, thick… warm.
Blood.
Farther ahead, among thick, lichen-covered trees, Lukas saw a body stretched out. A Macrauchenia, lying on its side, still steaming with the heat of death. But the most striking thing was the condition of the body — ripped open as if by enormous claws, ribs exposed like broken branches.
Lukas approached slowly. The birds already avoided the clearing. Even the insects seemed to keep their distance. And in that total silence, he saw it.
In the shadow, at the edge of the light piercing the canopy, the Arctotherium angustidens emerged. Its shoulders rose as high as a mammoth's back. Its thick fur was stained red. Its yellow, piercing eyes stared at Lukas with terrifying slowness — as if it already knew who he was.
The bear didn't growl. Didn't roar.
It simply walked toward the pup.
Lukas froze. His paws felt nailed to the earth. But something inside him stirred. It wasn't courage — it was root. Something primitive. Something that said: If you run now, you'll run forever.
The bear stopped just a few feet away. Its hot breath mixed with the stench of blood filled the space between them. Lukas raised his head. Took a deep breath. And let out a growl.
Small. Imperfect.
But it was his.
The bear tilted its head. A deep sound escaped its throat — somewhere between a rumble and a warning. But it didn't attack. It simply turned, slowly, and walked back into the forest, leaving the carcass behind — like a message.
Lukas collapsed to his knees, panting. The world spun, fear and adrenaline swirling. But he survived.
More than that: he was acknowledged.
When he returned to the pack that night, the elder looked at him without saying a word. He simply nodded and walked away, as if he had seen this moment before, in another time, in another young one… maybe even in himself.
Lukas (thought):"He didn't kill me. Why? Was it pity? Contempt? Or did he see… what I'm just starting to see too?"
The next dawn came with a clear sky. The snow crunched beneath the wolves' paws. And for the first time, Lukas walked not among the pups, but beside the adults.
The cycle had begun.
The path of the Alpha is not chosen.
It is awakened.