As my host, Ragnor led me to his home, where I would live for the duration of my stay in the colony. 

I rudely assumed it would be something akin to a cave, for that is the sort of house I believed wolves would occupy.

I was wrong. It was a gorgeous dwelling built into the hollowed trunk of an enormous tree, with the smell of soap and flowers wafting from the open golden-glassed windows. The inside was larger than I guessed, with several rooms for the family, and even included an indoor washroom.

Here I met his wife, Celene, and their three children, two young girls called Kae and Ginger, and a toddler boy called Posco.

The family provided me with my own room and bed, and a chest with two sets of clothing. Their hospitality instantly put me at ease, though the continuous energy and clamor of the children was something I had to adjust to.

By the time I had washed in the bath Celene drew for me, the sun was beginning to set. A low horn blew outside and Ragnor told me it was the call for dinner.

"We eat meals together," Ragnor explained as he and Celene struggled to wash their children's hands and faces, "to catch up on the news of the day or simply enjoy the company of our friends."

I half expected the dinner to be similar to the king's dining hall, where eating was a noisy and gluttonous affair, with the council seated at a special table like royalty. An image came to my mind of ravenous animals snapping their jaws at each other over scraps of meat.

I'm pleased to say it was nothing of the sort. There was no hall where people sat shoulder-to-shoulder in a tight crowd. Instead, the colony dined outside on three long tables with benches on either side. There was no special table for the council, who sat together among their people, but there was an empty space left between Lady Bruto and Phelan, which I, as the guest of honor, was meant to occupy for my first dinner.

It was like joining the world's largest family gathering, where everyone loved and welcomed each other. Platters and bowls and pitchers were passed down the tables several times, and because no one took more than they needed, no one was left hungry. Food was neither scarce nor wasted. It was, perhaps, one of the most civil meals I'd ever been part of.

All eyes were on me as I took my seat, and it was clear that the colony was keen to know me.

Midway through dinner, Lady Bruto stood and tapped her fork against her cup, creating a dull ring that brought all conversation to a halt.

"Tonight, we welcome a new guest of honor. This is Josiah, found by Ragnor and his hunting party." She looked at me. "We are eager to hear your story."

It wasn't a command, and I didn't feel any pressure to explain things I wasn't comfortable with. Storytelling, I discovered, was one of the colony's many forms of entertainment, and tonight I was the main act.

But where to begin, Credence, with a tale like mine?

I looked at my hosts sitting across the table. Ragnor and Celene were smiling, with three children bouncing on their knees.

"Go on," Ragnor gently urged, "tell us your story."

"And when you come to the part with me," Phelan interjected, "please be nice."

Scattered chuckles followed his plea. Every face was friendly, and the mood was so pleasant that I found myself more than willing to share the details of my life.

I briefly mentioned Pa's death but left out the details of a demon and Ma's magic, and began with the first day we went into the woods. By the time I came to our encounter with the bog woman, I'd been interrupted several times by both children and adults, who had a range of questions. The most frequently asked was why two children were sent into the world alone.

So I went back and began with the full truth. I told them about the night Pa was attacked, and the monster that inhabited his body. I told them the story of his death at Ma's hands, how she tried but failed to save him.

The crowd fell silent, with only the occasional soft clattering of utensils heard between my words. They gasped over the horrors of the bog woman and Hansel and Gretel. They gave pitying sighs for poor lonely Jill and laughed at the rude pumpkins that tormented the rock pining for his lady mushroom.

At the part when we were attacked by wolves, I saw many parents cover their children's ears. I realized that being changed through violence was considered unsuitable for younger ears—though no one attempted to stop my telling of it.

But when I spoke of waking up alone, and the pain of losing my sister, the last of my family, many of the grown ups wiped their eyes and nodded in sympathy. This comforted me, for I knew they understood the despair of losing everything.

There were, however, confused murmurs whenever I explained my interactions with my wolf.

They were compassionate towards Sampson and Angela's loss but shook their heads when they heard about the couple's angry reaction to my wolf. 

When I reached the circus, my audience grew animated. They cheered my victories as I told them and asked questions about the Hag Dancer and the Authority, which I answered to the best of my ability. I was surprised to discover that a few members of the colony had heard about the wolf who was Champion of the Pit. There had even been a discussion about potentially mounting a rescue mission, which dissolved when the circus fell.

I came to the castle and they clapped at the mention of Phelan. Here my story took a lengthy pause as questions were thrown at both of us. I'd left my belongings at Ragnor's home and did not have the twins' tapestry on hand, but I showed everyone the vial of tears around my neck and allowed it to be passed through the colony. Everyone took a turn examining the item, their mouths open in silent awe.

But a moment I'd been dreading arrived, and I paused to collect my thoughts before continuing.

Phelan was shaking with excitement and sitting on his hands to keep himself still.

I told them of the prince's ride on the wolf and how it was forced to bite him after he fell. The crowd was holding their breath, no one more eager to hear what happened next than Phelan. It broke my heart to see the joy in his face and know I would be the end of it.

"The prince was not strong enough. He died that day."

Phelan didn't comprehend my words at first, but I watched his face slowly fall.

"I'm so sorry, Phelan." I placed my hand over his and gave him a gentle squeeze. "I would never have hurt him intentionally. I know you loved him. I wish I hadn't kept this from you, but..."

My words trailed off as Phelan's gaze lowered to the table. There was a short silence before he whispered, "He shouldn't have died alone. I should have been there."

I squeezed his hand again.

"He wasn't alone. I was there. And so was his father and Roland. When they buried him, I went to his grave and said a prayer."

Phelan sniffed. "Was he happy when he rode on the wolf's back?"

"I'd never seen him so excited. That should be a comfort, that on his last day, there was a moment when the prince was free."

A sad smile crossed Phelan's face. "He had his faults, but I'd been by his side since birth. He was...kind of my brother, you know?"

"I do."

"Thank you for giving him that moment. He needed it more than any of us." His hand squeezed mine. "And thank you for trying to save him."

When I looked up I found a crowd of condoling faces staring at us. It touched my heart to see them, quietly respectful of their grieving friend. My story was honest and hadn't painted the most flattering picture of the prince, but the colony wasn't concerned with that. They only cared how it affected one of their own and shared his mourning.

I moved on from the castle, for Phelan had surely spoke about the ghastly wedding when he was the guest of honor, and talked at length about Ambrosia, whom I described as the love of my life. Several times I had to stop and calm myself, and my audience waited patiently until I came to the part where I buried her. Here, I could not stop my tears from falling.

As I had comforted him, Phelan put his arm around my shoulder, and for a moment I wept into his neck. It wasn't the crying that shamed me, but the fact that I had no words that could, as far as I believed, give justice to the angel Ambrosia was.

At last, I wiped my eyes with a napkin, and after clearing my throat I continued and recounted my time with Jedd. Everyone was curious, and frightened, to learn about the mysterious god called Lightning and the titans that constantly threatened to strike. I did my best to share the history that Jedd told me and was satisfied that I had upheld my promise to the herder.

"All of that," I said with a heavy sigh as I neared the day when Ragnor found my wolf, "is what led me here."

I'd never told my entire story to anyone, and I felt a pang of sadness at its end. After all I'd been through, what did I have to show for it?

A tapestry. A cloak of stars. A wound in my heart that couldn't be healed.

I looked at the colony and considered leaving. If I grew to love any of them I was sure to bring misfortune to their peaceful lives.

Thunderous applause tore me from my gloom, and the table trembled as fists pounded upon it. Hands patted my back and slapped my shoulder as the colony formed a line to congratulate and thank me.

"My goodness," Lord Luno exclaimed with a chuckle, "if you weren't here to prove it, I'd not believe a word of your story."

A thin man with spectacles approached me. In his ink-stained hands was a quill and parchment.

"Wonderful tale, young man! My name is Archer, scribe of the colony, pleased to meet you. Even more pleased to hear your fascinating journey! I would love to have it for the library."

"The scribe takes everyone's story," Phelan whispered to me, "so we have an account of all who've been here."

"You might get along fabulously with him," Lady Bruto added, "seeing as your wolf has a passion for words."

"It would be such a gift if you would permit me to transcribe your life for our records," Archer continued. "And one day you might even allow them to be rewritten as a play-show!"

I'd been mid-drink when he said it, and the suggestion caught me so off guard I choked on my water.

"A play-show?" I croaked.

I wasn't sure I wanted to see my story played out in front of me.

"Not for a long time," Archer assured me, "and only with your blessing, of course. But I would still like to have your words written down. If you would, come to the library soon so I can ask you a few questions. I took notes while you were speaking, but there are details I need repeated."

"I can do that."

"Oh, wonderful!" He took my hand and shook it vigorously. "Wonderful, wonderful!"

He scurried away, already writing on his parchment—

"This all sounds lovely," Credence said with a smile. "Please don't tell me something awful happens next."

Josiah returned his sister's expression with a grin of his own.

When Ragnor brought me to the colony, I was hoping for one meal, and maybe a night or two in a bed.

This was not to be, for the colony grew very dear to me, and quickly. As I learned their names and faces, their dreams and talents, I became convinced that I might find peace in their company. 

But I was never willing to fully accept and know anyone, not even Ragnor and his family, and I kept them at a distance. The colony could be my home, but no one could be my family. I was content to remain somewhat of an outsider, because the second my heart grew space for them, tragedy was sure to follow. Solitude within society suited me, and no one was rude over my choice. 

There was endless work to be done, and everyone was expected to do their share of the work. I helped with the garden and gave advice learned from Ambrosia's mastery of plants. I hunted with Ragnor and his group and aided in cleaning and dressing the meat we brought back. I swept floors and washed clothes. I looked after Ragnor and Celene's children when the parents were busy or exhausted.

Sometimes I helped Arthur in the library. There, I had the chance to read many histories of the people who had lived in the colony. In them, I found a wealth of wisdom, earned through hard work and loss, as well as triumph and family. My story was eventually added to them, and it made me proud to know that my journey would be there forever, read by generations long after I was gone. In this way, a piece of me would always remain in the world and I would never be forgotten.

To learn the ways of the wolf, I attended lessons with the children, though I was far older and it embarrassed me a little. Some of those lessons stuck, but not all of them. To this day I'm seen as a slightly strange aberration for the way I talk to my wolf and consider it a separate being from myself. Over the years many have questioned me about the animal and my approach to it, and I always reply the same way: It works for us and that is all we need.

The lessons were successful, however, in teaching me about the transformation process and the dangers that can befall a person with my gift.

Everyone's human body, whether they're born a wolf or bitten, is consumed after their initial change. No one in the colony is ashamed of it. In fact, they look at the act as a ritualistic bonding of animal and human. Once eaten, the old human body is no more, and the one that grows from the wolf is a new, second body, which remains. This explained why Ma's skin symbol had disappeared from my arm. The change is always painful the first several times, but there are people in the pack who study plants, and they discovered herbs that ease the pain, which helps immensely with the younger wolves. The mental anguish of changing is nonexistent to the children in the colony, as they're well prepared for it by their teachers and parents.

I was jealous of them for that and wished I had been so lucky during my early days as a wolf, but I was content to finally have answers to the questions that nagged my mind since my first change.

Balance between time as the wolf and human was vital, for without it, a person risked severe harm to their body and mind. If someone refused to change into their wolf for too long, the agonizing pain that came during the earliest transformations would return, and the primal part of their brain, what the colony believed was the part that the wolf embodied, would begin to panic. When it reached a certain threshold the wolf would be released without warning, and something called, "Canid Mania" would ensue. The wolf would be unpredictable and uncontrollable, as the human inside was driven mad, and there was no potion or medicine that could reverse it.

Likewise, if the wolf was in control for too long, it eventually lost its enhanced strength and speed and even its healing abilities. The human inside withered away until all that was left was a common animal with no more intelligence than any found in nature.

While I lived with him, Ragnor tried his best to be a brother to me. It was obvious that it pained him when I refused to fully reciprocate his friendship and love. I was often silent, never quick to give my opinion on any matter, and though I was present in the colony, I was never truly there. I refused his offer to help search for my sister, stating that what was lost was better kept that way.

His children took to me instantly and were constantly at my side when I was home, begging for me to play or give them affection. Their attention was never vexing, for in them I found an innocence I was unconsciously yearning for. The way they looked at me, with absolute trust and no suspicion, made me ache for a time when all I knew was safety and love.

Sometimes my wolf paced outside Ragnor's home at night, spending hours on guard in case a band of changelings came for his son and daughters.

Phelan and I became better friends, and through him a sliver of my heart was restored. While I was reluctant to form a connection with anyone, reuniting with him was one of the most important things to happen, for it showed me that tragedy was not always the theme of life.

Sometimes people survived.

And not only that, they could be happy. Phelan was a capable and effective member of the council, and I believe his time and education at the castle had prepared him for leading. I often mused to myself that he would have made a better king than the one who used to beat him. He told me all about his adventure around the world, which turned out to be a harrowing ordeal that scared him more than anything ever had before. He admitted that his time alone had been embarrassingly brief, but he was relieved—and lucky—to have found the colony as quickly as he had.  

Aside from Phelan and Ragnor's family, I never went out of my way to make friends. I spent most of my spare time walking alone in the woods, where only my wolf was privy to my troubles.

As satisfied as I was in the colony, it was my wolf who truly thrived. It was elated to be among others like it, and grew into something of a well-known poet when it penned several works with Archer's help.

By the way, Credence, the word "rabbit" can be rhymed with "habit", but I must admit it was Archer who thought of that.

The days went by quickly and before I knew it I'd settled into colony life. I hadn't thought about the passing of time until I received an invitation from the council to participate in the yearly Passage Ceremony and become a permanent member of the pack.

After several days of arguing with myself I reached a decision. 

I feared having a real home meant putting it in instant danger, but in the end I accepted the invitation and convinced myself that the colony was strong enough to defend against whatever threat came its way. For many years, that was true.

At the Passage Ceremony, I was given a mark to denote my loyalty to the pack.

For the design, there was never any question on what I wanted.

My first choice was a replication of Ma's skin symbol, but my memory was hazy and I could not recall exactly what it looked like. Instead, I decided on an image that held far more meaning:

A pineapple.

It was a way to honor my old life and blend it into my new one.

As Ragnor promised, there was feasting and music. A play-show was put on as entertainment, and made me laugh until my stomach was sore. I was transported back to Marmy Jo's camp, and more than ever I wished to have my sister beside me.

The best part of the ceremony, in my opinion, was the combat, a good-natured scuffle between two partners, where the victor earned the trophy of a painted clay egg. To win, one had to move through several rounds, beating every opponent who advanced with them until a single combatant was left.

As Champion of the Pit, this was an easy task.

Or so I thought.

Perhaps my wolf and I were a little too cocky, or perhaps time away from fighting had weakened our reflexes.

Or perhaps, because my wolf had never been matched against its own kind, a lesson in humility was always fated to arrive. After several scratches, a swollen eye, and a leg pulled out of place, my wolf was conquered in the third from last round. The grin on Ragnor's wolf's face was wide as it moved away to give its fallen opponent a chance to stand.

"A good fight," he complimented.

"I'm out of practice," my wolf said with a snort.

"You'll have a year's worth of time for it, so you can try at the next Passage Ceremony."

"I'm going to win next time."

"I suppose then we'll have to call you the Champion of the Pit and the Egg."

After my initiation, I was given my own home to live in, and the colony helped me furnish it with everything I needed. I hung the tapestry and cloak of stars above my bed and looked at them each night as I fell asleep, reminded of all I had survived to get where I was.

Not long after I joined the pack, whispers rose from my peers, of when I might find someone to start a family...

When the second Passage Ceremony came, my wolf made it to the final round but was once more defeated, this time by a white wolf called Enda.

I want that egg, my wolf growled to me.

There's always next year, my friend.

My wolf did manage to win the precious egg in the third year, and for two days it carried it in its mouth, not wanting to part with the prize, until the clay began to crack under its teeth and I convinced it to keep the treasure displayed on a shelf at home.

Five Passage Ceremonies came and went in a blink, and in that time I watched a parade of newcomers welcomed into the pack, some with families and some alone. I was delighted to hear their stories over dinner when they took their seat as guests of honor.

As structured as colony life could be, there was room for a few wonderful surprises. 

The best one, of course, was Faye. The woman I fell in love with.

She became my wife, and now, Credence, she is also your sister.