Mist formed from his snout as he panted heavily. He could smell it, smell the blood from the wounded mountain bear. The smell of blood filled his mind and body with warmth, as if he were sucking the life from it as the chase lengthened. This feeling was what this ceremony was all about. He had to prove that he could control his bloodlust. And he had to prove that he could kill with it.

As he came to a small stream he slowed his pace, taking in the places where the underbrush had been cleared away from the bear's passage. Putting his snout to the ground, he searched for a trace of the animal's scent. His prey may be an animal, but mountain bears are by no means stupid creatures. They are cunning and dangerous, exactly the reason Yanille had decided on one for his ceremony. No beast could match it's ferocity.

Once Yanille had found the beasts trail once more, he continued on, doubling his pace. His padded paws let him move as silently as a ghost as he sped through the underbrush. Nothing could escape his sights now. The gap between himself and the bear was steadily closing. The bear was as good as dead.

Yanille rounded a small ridge only to fall victim to the bear's trap. The bear had managed to cleave right through Yanille's fur and skin, right down to the bone. Searing pain shot up the length of his body, as he was hurled into a tree and back into his human form. Yanille opened his eyes, but his vision was filled with stars and he was in too much pain to transform back into his animal form.

The bear knew the extent of the damage it had done, taking his time to close the distance between itself and the human. Slowly it raised its massive paw, preparing to bring it down squarely onto the man's head, but as he was about to crush its prey the bear felt a heavy thud in it's chest. All the strength had drained from Yanille as he had launched himself from the tree and into the bear. The force with which Yanille had thrown himself was enough to knock the bear back a few strides.

Swallowing his pain, Yanille forced himself back into his wolf form, his once silver coat now dyed crimson with blood. Yanille fled down the slope of the mountain, coaxing every last bit of speed out of his mangled body as he could. The trail of blood Yanille left behind him was like a map that would lead the bear straight to him, but he didn't care. All he could think of was safety. The air was getting thicker, and as Yanille burst through the last bit of forest he saw a small lake bordered by the desert. By the far end of the lake Yanille spotted two people, that was the last thing Yanille saw before collapsing into unconsciousness.