All Jammers know of Greely, the dark wolf shaman, but what was he like in his early years; before magic, before Jamaa.
The wind ruffled his fur as Greely stood on the grassy hill. Far below was a caribou herd, one that, luckily enough, stumbled right into pack territory. Darting in the shadows were the hunters, the swiftest and strongest of the pack, who brought down the large kill. These were the subordinate, directed by the beta they circled around the sick caribou separated from the herd, then the alpha gave the signal. Greely stepped forward.
"Get back here pup!" Growled the omega.
"I don't take orders from the omega," Greely snapped, glaring at the pale grey wolf. "I'm almost eight moons old, old enough to join in the pack hunts, I'm not a pup anymore."
The wolf winced at the cold fury in the young one's eyes. Legends of the sight, the power to see beyond, flashed through his mind, legends of dark wolves knowing dark magic...
"I'll be beta before you know it, then you'll regret treating me like a pup," Greely stalked off to the cave, joining his sister. Something moved in the corner of his eye, whipping around he found nothing. The omega looked nervous and wouldn't look at him directly.
The rest of the pack returned soon after, giving up meat for those not in the hunt.
One wolf stood on moon watch as the pack drifted to sleep, Greely slept at the mouth of the den, under the stars.
It was dark when Greely awoke, but he felt restless. He stepped lightly out of the den, making no sound. Greely murmured a greeting to the moon watcher, but he didn't turn around. Asleep are we? Greely chuckled to himself, ready to pounce on his pack-mate. Then he jumped through him. Yelping in surprise he looked at his paws; they were were made of a dark mist, not solid. His body looked asleep in the den. Is this a dream? Greely wondered. He spent the entire moonrise exploring the territory, never getting tired and never need to pause to catch his breath. Sometimes his mist shape would be wolf, other times a bird, but most of the time a shadow, melting into the landscape. As moonset came he wandered back to the den, gleeful from the freedom he experienced. Suddenly it was there again, something in the peripherals of his vision. He tried to catch sight of it, but it disappeared when he faced it. What if... Greely focused his outer eye on the den, while his inner eye roamed. This was the true sight, seeing things beyond, seeing the fabric of time and space. There was a tear in that fabric, and through it Greely could see dark and light, shadows and mist. He felt pulled toward it, like he was part of it. Looking back to the den he saw his pack and knew he must make a choice.
Greely knew where he belonged now. Stepping through the fabric he felt his shape give way, and felt the life he once knew end. Now a shadow in the mist. A grey heron formed from the mist, somehow he was not surprised.
"What is your business shadow?" The heron murmured.
"I belong here, I am a dark wolf." Greely replied, the heron looked taken aback.
"Then you are the one foretold, welcome to the new land. I am Mira, the Sky Mother."
Greely felt the mist clear and found himself a wolf once more, yet still part shadow. He felt the magic of the Canyons fill his veins, filling him with a powerful energy. He could feel the aura of the world strengthen against his shadow magic, and he knew that his time had come.
The End of the Beginning