Belly up on a colorful flowery bed, basking uhe twin moonlight broken by the green s of arees, was a furbolg cub. The majority of his dark charcoal fur trasted starkly with his vibrant surroundings. Foam and drool flowed from his open muzzle, his tongue hanging limply in the grass.

  In his left paw was ay crystal fsk: the remnants of a straeal liquid glittered uhe dim light. Then footsteps broke the serene silence of the night, followed by an eg voice ced with ahe tone a mht use when chastising her child by calling their full er repeated blunders.

  However, the source of the void footsteps–a brown-furred adult female and the cub's much rger mother–arrived, her tone shifting from fusion to genuine arm as she approached the motionless body, the corpse. Her breath hitched as she fell to her knees.

  "No… Nonono…" Tara whispered as she hugged and nuzzled the limp, cold body of her son. In her rising despair, she failed to notice his faint breathing, slightly lower body temperature, or the quiet but rhythmic pulse of a beati.

  An unmistakable sign of life that if she were silent and paid attention, her ears would have picked it up. The same was true for a small treant gring at her from the side. Had death truly occurred, his rea to being awakened would have been much different.

  These vital details ocluded her panicked mind. Instead, anguish overwhelmed her, and she cried out in grief and horror at what she believed to be true: 'No! Please, by the Twin Bears, this 't be! My cub!"

  Her sorrowful cries made her rather indiscreet, and the following instant, a deep voice, and heavy footsteps arrived hurriedly to see what was happening at the sound of her voice. This one was male and of fur almost as dark as the cub, indig that he was the father.

  "No…" Krolg's rea was not dissimir to that of his mate at the sight of his son's 'lifeless' body, and he also didn't notice the signs of life. Instantly, grief festered within his heart, limiting his ability to reason properly.

  This se, while behind bushes, wasn't hidden by any means, and the noise didn't go unnoticed. Soon, a small but growing crowd gathered. Diurnal furbolgs awakened and followed the one of the night to gather around, f a sizable crowd. Within the, a white-furred male rushed in; his name was Ota Wen, and the emotions in his older brother's eyes were mirrored in his.

  But there was one distin: the ability to fun coherently. At least coherently enough to act fast with the uanding of what should be done.

  "Tara, brother, I will inform the shamans not all is lost. Your son is a cub favored by the spirits of the aors. It must be a test for him and us all." He intoned as calmly and reassuringly as one could be fag his lifeless nephew cradled iwin tender pair of arms of distraught parents whose entire world had shattered.

  Ota Wen didn't waste time, pushing kin aside for the ooo slow; he rushed toward one dire as fast as his leg and arms could take him, using both sets of limbs freater speed. Ihan a minute, he reached the Greenpaw Vilge's hearth, where a fallerunk stood for its striking number of exotits and maotems.

  As, he couldn't stop, his momentum far te. The thick wooden door, decorated with delicate flowers and potted pnts, stood no ce against his rge, adrenaline-fueled bulk.

  Like a dry stick, it snapped in half, the hinges ing with it as Ota Wen barely caught himself, avoiding by a hair breath from smming into the gring aged furbolg in front of him. Vine had grown before the impact, thereby killing any energy. Their cushioning furthered this.

  "Young Warrior Ota Wen, what is the mea-" The Elder Shaman couldn't finish his fused and rightfully wrathful diatribe when he was interrupted by the younger furbolg. This would be inexcusable and potentially heavily punishable in normal times, but what was said stopped any possibility of san.

  "Ohto is dead!" The white furbolg screamed on the ground breathlessly, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. Had sweating been biologically possible, he would have been positively drenched.

  "What!?" Oakpaw replied, disbelief evident, and asked with emotion. Ota Wen never khe elder furbolg could show arm, horror, and much more, but it aradoxically calm, measured, "Where is the cub?"

  "My brother's den-" That was enough information for another vio grab him as he yelped. In the blink of a was followed by the brief sound of shifting flesh and bone before the wind smmed onto his face, and the world moved up and down.

  Faster than Ota Wen had ever moved, the shaman-turned-bear grabbed him and galloped, the biggest bear he had ever seen. There were an abnormal amount of firsts tonight. Regardless, the two of them arrived, and Oakpaw shifted back, the rge crowd parting for him, his old ag bone doing little t him down as he stopped a meter away from the 'dead' cub. Relief with an equal surge of anger flooded his system.

  "He is alive." He muttered, the not-corpse of his apprentice, causing the grieving parents to stop in cathartic shock. His senses detected signs of healthy life in torpor, a pseudo hibernation, "The cub is alive and well! Ohto is in good health! He is simply sleeping. You may disperse!"

  The crowd of big bipedal bears obeyed without arguing, scattering away like flocks of birds back to what they were doing, w or sleeping as if nothing had happened.

  "Thank the aors…" Tara snuffled, two moist trails on the fur of her face; relief and joy in equal amounts were in her system. Krolg was no different, as was his little brother. However, it wasn't so for Oakpaw as he picked up the vial and s, wrinkling his nose.

  "Hm. Foolish cub…" He muttered too low to be heard coherently as his eyes shifted to a stump where worse dirtily written han usual were carved on barks, a mortar ale, a half-empty water bowl, and an array of dried herbs and fresh flowers were. Uanding dawned on him; his student had been brewing something. Something foolish yet iing.

  'Too much moonblooms' petals. Maybe he was hasty in the making of this elixir of painless rest. Or is it? Why the white roots? He wouldn't make such a mistake by adding them. An altered elixir then, or a new one… By Ursol's wise guidance, what shall I do with this reckless cub? My old heart only endure so much.' The Elder Shaman thought critically and in exasperation as he studied the little improvised alchemy table.

  The drama of this elixir aside, it seemingly puts the body of the one who drinks in a deep sleep, simir to the hibernation of some species in the cold seasons.

  Ohto was a lot as a student, and thus right there was one example why, another was the baby treant studying him. And that spoke volumes for someone like Oakpaas vastly experienced in that department and had taught all life matters.

  Ohto wasn't a regur cub by aent of the word. He was dramatically mifted in the branches of shamanism that the Lord of the Forest arius had renamed druidism for some mysterious reason, not that it mattered, for it was merely a part of a whole.

  unig with the aors put aside, he was deeply attuo them, letting him speak ahem with far more crity and far less effort than normally possible.

  Still, the young cub excelled ioration the most, making him seem incredibly mediocre in others. Otherwise, he was remarkable in a signifit portion of them. The trast was, to a degree, that the Elder Shaman never kneossible.

  The memories of the fused cub at his shock after the little oached two fio the paw of a clumsy warrior who cut them by not paying attention were anchored in Oakpaw's memories.

  This feat was expected of a trained shaman in that branch after using a potion or the like, and then it would have risks of scarring and potential after-effects for some time, depending on the initial damage. Healing magic was delicate and plex.

  But Ohto had done so without formal training and healed the paw perfectly. It wasn't the first case of him healing others, but minor flesh wounds were decidedly not the same as reversing a double amputation, no matter how , minor, a it was.

  It was a blessing of the Bear As. Or a test from them, it arbitrarily ged with the mood of the day.

  Then came the fact that Ohto was astoundingly clever and intelligent aainly more mature than any in his age group, but a cub he remained, and dangerous, curious recklessness art of the course. Even more, here with who the young cub was.

  A cursed blessing worsened with areme drive to learn, train, and progress, almost like it was an absolute must. May Ursol guide his path and Ursoc give him strength, for Oakpaw knew he would need both. With the sporadic sleeping trouble that could get rather intehe cub always had a less than unon occurrence. And the old shaman had some ideas as to why.

  As, there wasn't much he could do to act upon it. Or he was willing to. Visions were profoundly personal and spiritual matters, after all. It would be on the cub's terms if an expnation ever came to pass. And sometimes words were unnecessary.

  It was w, however. Oakpaw, his fellow shamans, and the aors could feel it; major ge was ing, yet its nature was eluding them in its ey, but from the cub's behavior, the future would prove to be one of hardship. Trials were ing to test their honor and right of survival to weather the ining storm. And this cub will be the pilr of the tribe that he, the Elder Shaman, was intimately aware of.

  'Is that why he did this tonight, to slumber peacefully, to not see? Poor little fool, you are my student…' Oakpaw wondered when closing the vial, the little teal liquid remaining inside now secured. He did the same for what remained oump; he wouldn't want any furbolgs with more curiosity than good sehe vast majority–to take a sip.

  The use of su elixir, when properly crafted, was clear to his experienced eyes, even if two-thirds of what it did was very likely unpnned. For that, the punishment would be light, but one would still be needed, a the perfect idea.

  ?????

  "Fuck… my head…" I groaned, a headache pulsing through my brain while I opened my heavy eyelids, wing briefly at the bright light. Blinking a few times, I stared dumbly at an unfamiliar ceiling, one where I wasn't used to waking up. The same was true for the smell, and I knew where I was.

  "Watch your tongue, young cub." A stern voice chastised to my right, one I reized instantly as my teacher's, firming that I was in his den. I stood up or tried to, but everything was sluggish a like lead. I opted for the smarter option, which was to sit. And onfortable, I couldn't help but stare awkwardly at the old furbolg carving a totem, the air tense and heavy.

  "Why am I here-oh…" The recolle of my te alchemical experimentation came to the forefront. I did something stupid, didn't I? Well, I don't recall it all, but I had a bad dream and decided to go out to clear my thoughts. Rarer they may get with time, they never went away.

  An annoyahis time that had led to only what I could assume from blurry memories was a eureka moment with a half-sleepy, frustrated mind where I cocted a drink from what I was learning to help me sleep… and promptly drank it fully. Everything after ure nothingness until now.

  I made a slightly magical sleeping tea, even if testing it immediately after brewing it for the first time wasn't my brightest decision.

  At least I was aware enough in my fug sleep iia to avoid making THEN drinking poison. The dose makes the poison or something along those lines, and the ingredients weren't toxic for furbolgs uaken in excess, even for a three-year-old cub like me.

  It did work, though. A bit too much.

  "...I'm sorry, teacher, for w you about what I did," I said tentatively with a small head bow. My ears flicked from the unamused snort I got in response, both a relief and a source of dread.

  "It's not to me you shall say that, young Ohto." Oakpaw let out a grin of fangs growing on his snout, "But I will accept your apology. Your hasty breotential, and we shall work on it. It would be your punishment from me…"

  My ears perked up; this was good, excellent, but too good to be only that. Then, my nose picked up two smells that were essentially half and half of my own. Oh shit…

  "…but I'm not your mother and father. They would do finer work than I at showing what a ck of forethought lead to." He firmed my fear and a feminine voice I associated with as my mother arrived in full swing.

  "Ohto! Thanks to the Twin Bears, thanks to the aors, you are fine! My precious little cub… I thought you die-died…" She cooed and cried, cheg me over through smell and vision.

  Guilt welled in my heart at what I must have let her gh when her demeanor flipped. She harshly nipped one of my poor round ears, and she flicked my nose hard, causio yowl meekly on both ats. The motherly love was not go was stronger, just of a different nature.

  "No honey for you until the union of the Twin, young cub! And do not try this again or disobey. I will know. I will know. Believe me, Ohto, I will. Clever tricks will not suffiatter how smart you may be." And the horrifiishment fell. My expression was one of despair.

  The sweet diviar that had bee a y in this life was forbidden from entering my stomach. I loved it as a human, particurly with cheese, the strong kind, and being a furbolg only amplified my love for honey.

  My rational side was relieved it was only that, but my brain was far from happy.

  "Okay, Ma. I promise I will…" But I didn't throw a tantrum, accepting my fate, and the nuzzle was almost enough to make it all great. Then father came, and it all started again.

  The_Bip_Boop2003