The morning sun poured through the gaps in the forest canopy, its golden fingers brushing over a humble clearing marked with logs, ropes, and hand-built wooden hurdles. Alter stood at the center of it all, arms crossed, pale white skin glowing faintly beneath the layered leather and dire wolf pelt that had become his trademark. His brown eyes scanned the two children before him—Finn, the wiry 13-year-old boy with a determined glint, and Mira, the sprightly 11-year-old girl with an irrepressible sparkle in her eyes.
"Again," Alter said, his voice calm but firm.
Finn groaned, brushing dirt off his scraped knees. "But we've already—"
"Ten more times," Alter cut in. "This time, don't look at your feet. Watch the rope. Mira, you're leading. Show him how it's done."
Mira puffed up with pride, sticking her tongue out at Finn before dashing toward the obstacle course again. She nimbly ducked under the first low-hanging branch, leapt across the uneven logs, and scrambled up the crude wooden ramp.
Finn followed, less gracefully, more… face-first into a patch of dirt.
"Keep your center of gravity low!" Alter called out. "You're not chasing dinner, you are the dinner if you trip like that in a real fight."
They ran the course again and again until sweat soaked their clothes and laughter filled the air—mostly Mira's, as Finn managed to stumble in increasingly creative ways.
Later that afternoon, the trio moved to a nearby riverbank.
Alter crouched at the edge of the water, hands tucked behind his back like a strict schoolteacher. "Fishing is not just patience. It's prediction. Anticipate the flow. Feel the pattern. The fish will always return to where the current slows."
Finn squinted at the river with the intensity of a boy trying to will the fish to leap out voluntarily. Mira held her stick like a weapon of war.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
Then, with a calm flick of his wrist, Alter extended his hand, dipped it into the river—and a silver-scaled fish practically leapt into his grip.
Mira squealed and clapped. "Waaah! Master Alter's the river god!"
"Teach me that!" Finn blurted.
"First, catch one," Alter replied dryly, laying the fish into the woven basket.
Finn grumbled and focused, the tip of his fishing spear bobbing above the water like a nervous squirrel.
The next day brought new pain.
"Bees?" Finn asked, staring up at the massive hive nestled between two tree branches.
"Wild honey," Alter said. "Highly nutritious. Great for wounds. But dangerous to harvest without finesse."
Finn gulped.
Cut to fifteen minutes later: Mira rolling on the ground in hysterics as Finn sprinted into the clearing, face swollen like a pufferfish.
"I only touched it once!" he wailed.
Alter sighed, sitting him down on a stump. From the side pouch, he pulled a small clay pot.
"This is honey from last week. Rub it on the stings—it'll soothe the swelling."
Finn did as instructed, wincing as Alter carefully applied a cooling leaf salve beneath his jaw.
Mira leaned over, giggling. "You look like a polka-dotted turnip."
"I hate bees," Finn mumbled through his puffed cheeks.
Alter allowed a rare chuckle. "Then don't chase them with a stick next time."
He stood, folding his arms as he looked out at the sun beginning to dip below the trees.
"Every mistake you make now," he said softly, "is one less you'll make when your life depends on it. That's why we train."
Both children fell silent, soaking in his words. Mira sat up straighter. Finn nodded, slowly but surely.
They would stumble. They would fall. But under Alter's guidance, they would rise.
As the campfire crackled that night, the scent of roasted fish and wild roots in the air, Alter sat with them—not just as their savior or teacher, but as something closer. A mentor. A protector. Perhaps even a father figure they never had.
And for the first time in a long while… Alter smiled. A small, tired smile—but real.
The Night of Growth – Wolves, Steel, and a Father's Quiet Work
Six months had passed in the deep woods.
The old camp had long since evolved. What was once a firepit and a few scattered logs was now a fully functioning survival outpost. Traps were hidden in the underbrush with surgical precision. Makeshift dummies made of bark and straw stood riddled with dagger marks. Even the nearby stream had a filtration channel carved from stone and wood—designed by Alter and maintained by Finn and Mira daily.
And the children—no, the disciples—had changed too.
Finn dashed through the obstacle course barefoot, ducking under swinging logs, leaping over pressure-triggered vines, and landing cleanly on a stone platform with a confident roll. Mira followed seconds later, light as a feather, slipping between the traps like a shadow. They reached the finish point and both struck triumphant poses with wide, competitive grins.
"I beat you by half a breath," Mira bragged.
"Only because you have tiny legs!" Finn shot back.
"You said that last time too!"
"And it was true last time!"
From a short distance away, Alter sat under a tree, sharpening a curved fang dagger with slow, deliberate strokes. He watched them calmly, expression unreadable—but the faint nod of approval said more than words ever could.
Later, they gathered at the riverbank.
Fishing had once been a chaotic affair of splashes, screaming, and Mira somehow falling in. Now, the water was calm, broken only by the blur of hands dipping into the current. Mira struck first, scooping a silverfin trout clean from the stream and tossing it onto the shore.
"Four today," she chirped.
Finn lunged again and came up with two in quick succession. "Tied now!"
They turned to see Alter behind them, arms crossed. "You lost focus. Mira aimed where the fish would be. You reacted to where it was."
Finn groaned. "You're saying she predicted the fish's future?"
"She's not a prophet. She simply paid attention."
As the sun dipped and the fire crackled to life, the final test began.
The honey hive.
This time, Finn wore thick leather wraps around his arms and a cloak soaked in herbal smoke. He climbed the tree carefully while Mira, below, waved the smoldering herbs to keep the bees away. With practiced hands, Finn cut the honeycomb and lowered it using rope.
No bee stings. No bumps. No screaming.
Only victory.
They sat by the fire that night, faces glowing from more than just the warmth.
And while they snored away in their shared lean-to—covered in makeshift wolf-fur blankets—Alter sat nearby, alone under the stars.
A tanned hide was draped over his lap. He had spent weeks preparing it—skinning, stretching, treating it with salt, bark, and time. With steady hands, he stitched lining into two cloaks: one a white pelt with icy grey streaks, the other black and coarse, like shadows wrapped in fur. Each bore the preserved head of the dire wolf, its jaws now silent protectors resting as hoods.
Nearby, he had laid out two new weapons. Twin daggers forged from the fangs of the dire wolves themselves, carved to a jagged edge and balanced for young hands. The handles were wrapped in leather and marked subtly—M for Mira, F for Finn.
Alter adjusted the sizes one more time.
The next morning, they awoke to a surprise laid beside their sleeping mats.
Two cloaks. Two sets of light leather armor. And their very first real weapons.
Morning of the Wolf Cloaks – A Gift Beyond Words
The early dawn mist clung to the forest like breath held between heartbeats. Birds chirped overhead, and the embers of last night's fire still smoldered faintly in the pit.
Mira stirred first.
Her eyes fluttered open, met by the rich scent of leather and fur. She blinked—and then saw it.
Folded neatly beside her was a white pelt cloak, its texture soft and warm, adorned with subtle silver threading. The preserved wolf head rested at the top like a hood, its once-feral eyes now closed in eternal sleep.
She gasped, sitting up fully. "Wha…?"
Beside her, Finn groaned and rolled over, arm lazily flopping onto his own cloak—a deep black, rougher to the touch, its fur coarse and powerful like a shadow made solid. His eyes snapped open as soon as his fingers registered the unfamiliar texture.
"Huh?! What the—"
Both kids were now fully awake, kneeling beside their cloaks.
Laid carefully atop each was a short leather vest and matching gauntlets, stitched with bark-tanned straps and rune-like markings. At the center of each outfit sat a dagger—fangs of beasts polished into sharp, curved edges, their grips wrapped in forest-hide.
Mira reached out hesitantly and traced the small "M" engraved on the base of her blade.
Finn clutched his own dagger and read the "F," his hands trembling slightly.
"Did you make these…?" Mira whispered aloud, not sure if the question was for Finn or the wind.
That's when they noticed him—Alter—already awake, sitting with his back against a tree, arms folded, and eyes closed like he hadn't spent the night laboring at all.
He cracked one eye open.
"You've improved," he said simply. "It's time you looked the part."
Finn turned his dagger in the morning light, watching how the tooth edge gleamed. "This is real… These are real weapons…"
"No more wooden knives," Alter nodded. "And no more childish cloaks."
Mira hugged her white pelt cloak tightly to her chest, burying her face in it. "I love it…" she mumbled.
Finn had already donned his black pelt and tested a few mock swings with the dagger. He turned to Alter, eyes shining, though he tried to look serious. "Thank you, Master."
"Don't thank me," Alter replied, pushing off the tree and standing tall. "Show me it was worth making."
He walked past them, cloak swaying behind him, hands behind his back.
The two children looked at each other—no longer just orphans, no longer just survivors.
Disciples. Equipped. Ready.
And clad in the wild.
The Next Grade – Trials of the Forest School
The sun peeked through the canopy, casting warm dappled light over the mossy ground where Alter's training camp stood. Birds chirped overhead, blissfully unaware that two young disciples had just been promoted from "first grade" in what might be the most unconventional school in the world.
Finn and Mira stood in front of Alter, now donned in their newly fitted wolf-pelt cloaks. Mira's was a snowy white pelt with a curled tail design across the back, while Finn's was deep charcoal black with a rougher, rugged cut—both adorned with the wolf heads draped like hoods over their shoulders. The two stood proudly until Alter cleared his throat and dropped the next piece of news.
"Today marks your graduation from first grade," he said, arms crossed with exaggerated seriousness.
"Wait… first grade!?" Finn shouted, his voice cracking mid-word.
Mira blinked, mouth agape. "We were in school this whole time?!"
"You never told us there were grades!" Finn's protest came with flailing arms, as if he were trying to shoo away the injustice.
Alter nodded gravely, suppressing a grin. "Indeed. You were unaware because that was part of the test."
Mira dropped to her knees in dramatic despair. "How many grades are there!?"
"Only twelve," Alter replied with a calm shrug, before adding, "And after that… comes Advanced Training, High Ascension, Inner Gate Unlocking, and possibly Final Exams if I'm still alive by then."
Black lines streaked down both kids' faces like ink spills.
"You're messing with us!" Finn accused, stabbing a finger in Alter's direction.
"Am I?" Alter tilted his head, smirking faintly.
Suddenly Mira clutched her head. "I didn't sign up for this!" she wailed.
"You did. The moment you sat down and ate my grilled fish," Alter said dryly, pulling out a leather satchel and handing it to Mira. "These are your personal supplies now. Stitching kit, whetstone, water gourd. Keep them close. If you're going to survive, you'll need to maintain your own gear."
Mira took the bag with a sheepish smile. "Thank you…"
Finn stepped forward and received a similar pack, then paused. "Wait… wait, does this mean we start real combat training now?"
Alter's grin widened just slightly. "Yes. From here on, you won't be practicing to survive. You'll be surviving to practice."
They blinked. "That's the same thing!"
Alter merely walked past them and pointed deeper into the woods. "Then your next test is simple. Navigate the training forest using nothing but your instincts, avoid my traps, and make it to the firepit by nightfall. If you don't..."
"…You'll leave us to starve?" Finn asked.
"No," Alter said, voice dropping dramatically. "You'll be having soup. With mushrooms."
Finn and Mira gasped in unison.
"Not the mushrooms! Your cooking nearly poisoned me last time!" Finn staggered back in mock horror.
"You made me cry actual tears!" Mira added, already running into the forest.
"Then best of luck," Alter said with a smirk, his back turned as he returned to his fireside seat. He watched the two disappear into the trees, shaking his head. "At least they're motivated."
Trial by Fire – First Real Combat
The clearing in the forest was quiet, save for the steady thrum of footsteps and the hiss of steel cutting the wind.
Alter stood at the center of the training field, arms relaxed, expression unreadable. His daggers—Yin and Yang—remained sheathed at his sides.
Opposite him stood Finn and Mira, each wearing their crafted wolf cloaks, gripping their newly forged fang-daggers with sweaty palms.
This was their first real spar against their master.
"Begin," Alter said calmly.
He didn't move.
Finn charged first, feinting to the left before pivoting to the right. Mira mirrored him, slipping through the underbrush with surprising agility. They tried to flank him.
Alter tilted his head.
Then he vanished.
A flash of movement—Finn's strike sliced empty air, Mira spun to guard her back, but Alter was already behind them. He tapped both their shoulders with the flat of his palm in one fluid motion.
"Dead," he said.
"Ugh!" Finn stumbled. "Already?!"
Mira pouted. "You're not even using your weapons!"
Alter offered no reply, merely motioned for them to reset.
And again.
And again.
Hours passed. Dirt smeared their faces, sweat soaked their leather, arms trembled from the weight of their own daggers. Yet with every pass, they dodged a little quicker. Predicted his movement a little sharper. Reacted a little closer to right.
By sundown, the children collapsed to their knees, breathing hard, refusing to admit defeat.
Their training continued on. Days turned to weeks, then into months.
Then it happened.
One misstep from Alter—not a mistake, but a deliberate test. A half-second where his arm lifted just slightly out of rhythm.
Finn saw it.
He surged forward, ducking low, and slashed upward—
Shink.
A thin, clean scratch appeared on Alter's leather armguard. Barely visible.
But it was there.
A hit.
Mira gasped. "Finn! You got him!"
Finn froze, dagger still raised in disbelief. Then he grinned wide. "I did! I actually—"
Whack.
Alter's palm connected with Finn's forehead, lightly—but enough to send him rolling backward with a grunt. Mira yelped as her legs were swept cleanly out from under her a moment later.
The children landed flat on their backs, groaning, staring at the sky.
"Never celebrate during a fight," Alter said, standing over them. "That cheer would've gotten you both killed."
Finn rubbed his head, wincing. "You could've just said that…"
"I did," Alter replied, turning away. "Two months ago. You weren't listening."
Mira mumbled something into the dirt.
The sun dipped low, and the forest began to cool. The two students—exhausted beyond measure—barely managed to crawl back to camp. They didn't even bother with their cloaks, collapsing near the fire pit and falling asleep side by side, dirt-covered and snoring.
Finn groaned from his blanket in his sleep, perhaps dreaming of another clash. Mira rolled over, muttering nonsense about "honeycombs" and "fish with teeth."
Alter stood up slowly and walked to the fire. He pulled out a freshly hunted hare from the pouch at his side, cleaned and prepared, and skewered it carefully over the fire. His movements were precise, practiced. He reached into a side satchel and added a blend of herbs for flavor—simple forest seasoning, but more than enough for the two half-starved growing warriors.
He didn't need to eat yet. But he would make sure they ate well.
These weren't just kids anymore. They were his students. His disciples. The 13th and 14th of his personal legacy.
He looked up toward the stars.
"Lira. Kaela," he murmured under his breath. "...I'm still walking."
The wind rustled gently through the branches overhead.
In the quiet, the fire crackled, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
Alter, as always, remained vigilant. Once he was sure they were safe, he stepped quietly into the woods, Yin drawn in hand.
Time to hunt.
A boar would do nicely tonight.
And maybe… just maybe, tomorrow, he'd teach them how to hit twice.
Guild Registration – The Legend of the Mini Wolves Begins
The guild hall remained frozen in a stunned hush, as if time had halted just to comprehend what had walked in.
Brown dire wolf.
Black dire wolf.
White dire wolf.
All with upper faces shrouded by fanged pelts. All with stoic silence. All with deadly daggers on their hips.
Except the two smaller ones were barely up to Alter's waist.
Mira, her snow-white pelt bouncing as she skipped up to the counter, beamed like the morning sun. "Hiya! I wanna be an adventurer!" she said cheerfully, standing on tiptoes to look over the counter.
The receptionist—a young man this time—stared, unsure whether to laugh, salute, or faint. "Uh… y-yes, little lady. A-are you sure your... um... dad approves?"
"I'm not his daughter!" Mira chirped.
Finn stepped up beside her with his midnight pelt and crossed arms. In the deepest voice his adolescent throat could muster, he rumbled, "We're his disciples."
"…Your voice just cracked, little man," the receptionist murmured under his breath.
Finn's face turned beet red. "I meant to do that."
Alter said nothing. He stood behind them, arms crossed, gaze unmoving. The weight of his presence bore down on the room like a looming shadow. But by now, the guild staff had grown used to the infamous Lone Wolf, even if his new entourage had them reconsidering their life choices.
One older adventurer whispered to his friend, "Are they his... pups?"
"Don't say that. He might hear you."
"I swear he multiplied… Is this some kind of dire wolf cult?"
"Shut up, they'll hear you and bite your ankles—"
"Next!"
The receptionist quickly called for another attendant to fetch the necessary forms. Mira bounced in place excitedly while Finn tried his best to maintain his "cool older brother" façade, which only cracked further when he tripped over a stool and nearly fell flat on his face.
Mira laughed. "You okay, big bro?"
"I meant to fall. Testing my reflexes."
"Uh-huh."
Alter finally stepped forward and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"They're ready," he said simply.
The receptionist blinked. "Wait—ready for what?"
"To register," Alter replied flatly.
"But… they're kids."
"Exactly."
"…I—I don't think the forms have a 'Mini Wolf Disciples' section…"
"They'll make one," Alter said with finality.
The receptionist gulped and nodded furiously. "R-right away!"
Meanwhile, a crowd of guild members was gathering near the stairs, whispering and pointing.
"Did you see the way the little girl just stood there? She's got presence."
"Yeah, and the boy tried to kill a chair with his glare."
"I'm telling you, they're gonna be terrifying in five years."
"I give them three."
Alter leaned down between the two. "This is your first step. Stay sharp, speak clearly. No foolishness."
Finn and Mira saluted in unison. "Yes, Master!"
They both turned back to the counter. Mira immediately leaned on it again. "Can I sign with sparkles?"
Finn growled. "Be serious, Mira…"
Alter let out a quiet sigh.
It was going to be a long day.
Guild Master's Doubt – Wolves Under Watch
The guild's atmosphere had shifted the moment Guild Master Archine descended the stairs with a sharp cough that echoed through the marble hall. His black cloak trailed behind him, trimmed in silver—a silent signal of rank and respect. His gaze fell on the trio standing before the counter.
Brown. Black. White.
Three wolves, lined up like some mysterious forest tribe delegation. The tallest one—Alter—stood still as stone, his brown dire wolf pelt masking his upper face. But the two smaller figures beside him? The black and white cubs?
Archine's brow twitched. "Those two… they yours?"
Alter glanced sideways, voice deadpan. "No."
Archine narrowed his eyes. "How old are they?"
"Old enough."
A pause.
"…To drink?"
"Old enough to fight."
Archine's face flattened, the corner of his mouth twitching as he stared at the two children trying to look stoic. Mira was waving at the nearest attendant with both hands, while Finn stood arms-crossed, chin lifted, eyes half-lidded in his best imitation of Alter.
"And you brought them here to…?"
"Register."
A vein nearly popped on Archine's forehead.
"They look ten."
Mira raised her hand cheerfully. "I'm eleven!"
Archine blinked. "Thank you, small child, for proving my point."
Alter folded his arms. "They've trained under me for a year. They're ready."
"Rules still apply. Kids this young need evaluation before registration. It's guild policy."
Alter tilted his head slightly. "That's strange. I wasn't tested."
Archine's eye twitched. "That's because you walked in, turned in a quest with a troll head still dripping, and didn't say a word for three months!"
Silence fell in the lobby. One of the attendants coughed awkwardly.
Alter said nothing.
Archine sighed, rubbing his temples. "I know what this really is. You're not just here to register them. You want to show me something."
Alter's lips quirked into the faintest smile. "I trained them."
Archine exhaled slowly, then snapped his fingers. "Fine. Let's test them. We'll see what your 'disciples' can do."
As the trio followed him to the arena below, the guild members whispered behind them.
"Are they really his kids?"
"They look like mini versions of him…"
"I didn't even know Lone Wolf could talk to people."
"Are we sure they're not golems with fur?"
As the arena doors opened, Archine turned back one last time and muttered under his breath, "If these kids are even half as crazy as he is… we're going to need reinforced walls."
Trial of the Wolf Cubs – Mira Steps Forward
The guild's underground arena opened before them—a wide circular space lined with reinforced walls of stone and warding runes. Observers gathered in the upper viewing platforms, curious and murmuring. Rarely did new registrants garner this much attention, but today was different.
Today, the Lone Wolf had brought cubs.
Archine stood on the instructor's platform, arms crossed, gaze sharp. "Alright. First, the girl—Mira, was it?"
"Yes, sir!" Mira chirped, stepping forward with spring in her step and a beaming smile. Her small frame was covered in the snowy white dire wolf pelt. The stitched leather armor underneath was clearly hand-crafted—sturdy and fitted.
She twirled the wolf fang dagger in her right hand with playful confidence.
Across from her, a guild knight took position—moderate strength, rank B, meant for testing agility and reaction rather than brute force.
"Begin when ready," Archine announced.
Mira looked back at Alter once. He gave a slow nod.
Her smile widened. "I got this!"
The bell rang.
Mira moved like a dart of light, her steps unpredictable—zigzagging, rolling, leaping. The knight moved in cautiously, trying to match her rhythm, but she slipped under his guard and tapped his shin with the flat of her dagger.
The crowd murmured.
Then she vanished behind him.
"Behind you!" someone shouted—but it was too late. Mira had already swept low, striking the back of the knight's knee with the blunt of her blade, causing him to stumble.
"Fast," Archine muttered.
Mira flipped backward with an exaggerated "ta-daaa!" and stuck the landing.
The knight raised his hand in surrender. "She passed. I couldn't get a hit on her."
Cheers erupted from the younger staff. One of the female attendants squealed, "She's like a little snow fox!"
Mira ran back to Alter, her cheeks flushed with pride. She tugged on his pelt.
"Did you see? Did you see, Master?"
Alter nodded once, a faint smile on his lips. "You were a blur. Well done."
"Yaaaay!" Mira did a small twirl before hopping beside Finn, who now looked visibly pressured.
Archine raised a brow. "Alright… now for the boy."
Scene: Finn's Turn – The Quiet Flame
Finn stepped forward slowly, arms crossed at first, eyes half-lidded with forced composure. His voice was cool as he walked past Mira.
"I'm not gonna lose to you," he whispered.
Mira smirked and whispered back, "Don't trip and fall~"
He froze for half a second, then coughed and rolled his shoulders. As he took his position, the black dire wolf pelt draped over his form gave him a looming presence despite his small stature. His dagger grip was tight—right hand forward, left-hand reversed.
Archine watched carefully. "Hmph. What's your plan, cub?"
Finn said nothing. He stared forward at the armored knight across from him.
The bell rang.
Finn rushed—not like Mira's dance of wind and snow, but a direct and low-sweeping charge. The knight braced, expecting a frontal clash.
Instead, Finn slid under the knight's stance and slashed upward. The dagger scraped against the armored belt with a loud ping.
A spark. Almost a hit.
The knight turned, but Finn was already behind him, leaping upward with both blades aiming for the shoulder gap—
Clang!
Blocked.
But not before one fang had grazed the knight's shoulder.
He landed, took a step back, breathing hard, sweat on his brow.
The knight stared at the dent. "Tch. That's one persistent little wolf."
Archine crossed his arms. "Not bad. You fight like a shadow. You still have much to refine—but there's fire in your form."
Finn looked to Alter, desperate for approval. Alter gave him a rare nod.
"You read his blind spot. That's how wolves hunt."
Finn straightened his back with a satisfied breath. "Told you I'd do it," he muttered.
Mira clapped wildly. "Good job, Finn! You didn't fall!"
"I never fall," he lied.
Scene: The Guild's Verdict
After both children returned to Alter's side, Guild Master Archine stepped forward.
"Well… against all expectations, you two pass. Officially registered. F-rank, of course, but I suspect that won't last."
He glanced up at Alter.
"And you. You really trained them."
Alter gave a slow blink. "That's what I said."
Archine narrowed his eyes. "Fine. But you better not disappear again. I want to keep watching how far your little wolf pack goes."
Mira raised her hand again. "Can I get a badge with a wolf on it?"
Finn nodded, trying not to look interested. "That would be… cool."
Archine sighed and muttered, "What have I done...?"
The crowd began to disperse, already whispering rumors of the "Three Wolves of the Wild." Alter, with his brown dire pelt. Finn, the shadow in black. Mira, the darting white spark.
A new story was beginning.
And the city would never forget the day the wolf cubs howled for the first time.