Surprisingly, Luka didn't show up right away. A couple of weeks later, I visited the snow people's settlement again and began my training in handling the stones. Sometimes the Tribal Leader worked with me, other times, other shamans did. As it turned out, there were several of them here, each with their own specialization. Each shared their own knowledge, but I grasped the main point: they didn't perform any complex rituals; they simply communicated with the stones, each according to their task. So, the primary skill I needed to learn was how to formulate requests correctly. Logical enough. As the Leader said, the stones are pseudo-sentient, so one must know how to address them to get the desired result. It strongly resembled interacting with a modern neural network: it all comes down to asking the right question and defining the task as precisely as possible.
A month passed since my training began. I settled into a routine: part of the week I spent in the settlement, part at home, usually for just a couple of days. Oh, and I forgot to mention: I improved how I carried the stone. First, I checked with the Leader that the cord itself meant nothing, then I asked the stone directly if my manipulations would harm it. The answer came: "Not in the least." Then I removed the stone from the cord and simply embedded it into my body. I made an incision below the collarbone, between the front deltoid and pectoral muscle, disinfected the stone, and placed it so it wouldn't hinder movement. I performed several transformations into the bear and back—the wound healed, and the stone sat perfectly, not bothering me at all. A couple of days later, something unexpected happened: the stone became undetectable to the touch. No, it hadn't vanished—I could still feel its functionality, but physically, it was as if it wasn't there. I went to the trouble of getting an X-ray. The results showed no foreign objects in my body. But I could feel the stone. Apparently, it had dissolved.
I went to the Leader and told him everything, which greatly puzzled him. He said he could definitely sense the stone on me but couldn't see where it was (turns out, he could do that). He also said no one had ever treated a stone this way before. He mentioned some had tried, but differently—for example, by simply swallowing them. However, the stones would pass through the body naturally after a while, and the stones *really* didn't like that treatment, so the experiments were stopped. And now I was living proof that my method was possible. He declared his enclave was very fortunate to have me. Then he began speculating why it worked for me: maybe because I'm a shapeshifter, or perhaps due to contact with blood. "We'll have to try again and discuss this at the council," he said. I noticed he was talking more to himself than to me. Deciding I was no longer needed, I said goodbye and left. The thoughtful Tribal Leader merely nodded absently. By the way, that council of chiefs, upon learning the tribe had sought my help, fully and completely approved the Leader's actions. Apparently, the fact that I'm not entirely human and hide my own nature played a role.
It was around this time that Luka finally appeared. I happened to be at home, on one of my brief stays. On my last return, I'd brought back a bunch of various herbs I'd gathered in the enclave, and on the way home, I'd decided to finally compile my own kits from local plants for different needs. Luka appeared just as he had when he helped me on the Pamir—as an energy double. And it wasn't like he was an incorporeal spirit; he was quite tangible and solid, which was unsurprising—he is a shapeshifter, after all. He appeared just as I was surrounded by herbs, deep in experimenting with mixtures, so his timing was perfect. He later helped with a couple of tips but didn't interfere much—he was more interested in the events that had transpired in the snow people's settlement. And so, as I worked, I told him everything. He listened, asked clarifying questions in a couple of places, and then just sat there, lost in thought. I continued fiddling with the herbs.
"So, is this sort of thing normal around here?" he suddenly asked.
I didn't understand and looked at him. He gestured with his head towards the television, which was on just for background noise.
I often do that when doing something not particularly intellectual at home—I turn the TV on. It drones on with its own stuff, not bothering me, but sometimes I watch something. Just sitting and watching TV rarely works for me somehow. At that moment, the local news was on, reporting that in one of the districts, a pack of wolves had attacked a herd in broad daylight, killing over half the animals; some shepherds had also been hurt. One of them was just recounting the incident.
"No, not at all. Wolves do live here, but there aren't many; they hide in uninhabited areas. And I'm hearing about an attack like this for the first time. Sure, they follow herds, picking off stragglers, but attacking openly? No. There are too many hunters in our area for wolves to get that bold."
"You tell that to those shepherds."
"Very strange. And they killed more animals than they needed."
"Smells like the work of Ghurs," Luka said thoughtfully.
"Ghurs? Who are they?" I asked.
"Ghur is what those whom ordinary people call werewolves, lycans, lycanthropes, werwolves... well, those who turn into wolves, call themselves. We, accordingly, are Ghurali, they are Ghurs."
"So they're a people? They have their own name? Are there many of them?"
"Certainly more than us Ghurali. Back in the day, when there were more of both them and us, there was even something like a war. Well, not exactly army versus army, but we feuded, sometimes fought in gangs. Over time, as numbers dwindled, it all just died down on its own. Nobody thinks about feuding now—it's about survival. But generally speaking, they're more organized than Ghurali. Pack creatures, after all. We are mostly individualists, just like real bears."
"So, a pack of Ghurs did this?"
"No, unlikely. More probably, a pack was being controlled by a single Ghur. Wolves always accept them as their alpha leaders and readily obey."
"And why would some Ghur do such a thing?"
"Who knows? Maybe he wanted to show off, maybe he's just a nasty piece of work by nature. You shouldn't let this slip your mind. Who knows, maybe he's, well... lost his marbles, gone completely feral, so to speak. If not stopped in time, he could cause a lot more trouble."
"Well, I've got other things on my plate right now, but I'll try to keep an eye on it."
"You'd better try. The Ghurs, you understand, also live quietly and try not to draw attention. This, you could say, is some kind of demonstration. But it definitely involved Ghurs—ordinary wolves couldn't pull this off, especially given the hunter situation you described in your area."
I looked at the TV—they were showing footage of the torn animal carcasses. Something told me I would yet cross paths with this pack and this unknown Ghur. But that's a story for another time.
