Chapter 2, Part 1: The First Day of the Rest of Our Lives

Katrina slowly and grudgingly awoke to the incessantly squawking of the bird on her windowsill. She methodically emerged from her covers, shambled around Wearwolf as she approached the windowsill, and loomed over the bird with about as much burning intensity as one can muster after a couple hours sleep. The bird gradually and uncertainly quieted itself.

“Good morning, Alarmcock,” Katrina greeted with all the warmth and gentleness of a butcher knife. “Do you know what day this is?”

The Alarmcock cautiously pointed one wing straight down and the other off to the side.
“Not what time it is,” Katrina groggily corrected. “What day it is.”

Alarmcocks weren’t known for their intelligence. If they were, they wouldn’t go around waking people up at times they’d rather be sleeping at. Katrina’s was no different and had to do some thinking before it realized it didn’t keep track of current events.

“Bawk?” the Alarmcock carefully ventured.

“That’s right,” Katrina replied with cheerfulness of a rotisserie oven. “It’s the day after my sixteenth birthday. Do you know why this day is so special?”

Okay, the Alarmcock was pretty sure it knew this one.

“Bawk?” the Alarmcock guessed.

“Yep,” Katrina confirmed with a tone dripping with barbeque sauce. “It means I spent all of last night trudging through a pitch-black forest, avoiding wild beasts, fighting a hunter who tried to kill me and my animal counterpart, and generally getting all muddy and rained on, all so I could prove that I was finally an adult. And do you know how I’d like to celebrate overcoming all those trials?”

Katrina’s finger-licking grin made the Alarmcock uncertain about its need to know the answer to that question.

“B-bawk?” the Alarmcock stammered.

“Why, yes,” Katrina accepted. “I would like to SLEEP IN FOR ONCE! THANK YOU FOR ASKING!”

Katrina slammed the window shut and stomped back to bed. The Alarmcock let go of the breath it didn’t realize it was holding, just glad to go through that with only crushed toes.

“I would have eaten the bird, myself,” Wearwolf said, still curled up on the floor.

Katrina grumbled incoherently and flopped back onto her bed. From there, she proceeded to wrap the blankets around her like a cocoon from which she would hopefully emerge from later as a toasty and well-rested butterfly. She lazily rolled onto her side and immediately sat up as the pain from the wound on her shoulder jolted her out of her daze. Clutching her shoulder, she fingered the bandages through her nightgown. The injury wasn’t severe, but she was told it might leave a scar.

“Are you all right?” Wearwolf asked, responding to Katrina’s pain. He padded over to her bed, limping from bandaged wounds on his shoulder and hind leg, and stood with his front paws on the mattress.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Katrina replied. She lay back on the bed and sighed. “Well, I guess we’re adults now.”

“It would appear so,” Wearwolf confirmed.

“It’s funny,” Katrina said. She got up and walked over to her mirror. Wearwolf followed her. “I guess I kinda expected there’d be this magical transformation and I’d suddenly become more mature. But I don’t feel any older. I don’t look any older. I’m not more endowed, I’m not smarter, and I don’t feel like eating bran flakes.”

“Perhaps you have changed in ways that are not as immediately apparent,” Wearwolf offered. “Or perhaps you have yet to change.”

“I guess,” Katrina accepted. “But I still feel like I always have, except now I have responsibilities and stuff.”

“What sort of responsibilities?” Wearwolf inquired, tilting his head to one side.

“You know, adult stuff,” Katrina attempted to explain.

“I’m afraid I do not,” Wearwolf replied, tilting his head to the other side.

“I mean, you know, hard stuff,” Katrina went on. “The kinda things that have to be taken seriously. You know, the stuff you don’t trust children to because they’ll just mess it up or something.”

“You mean things like rearing young and hunting for food?” Wearwolf attempted to clarify.

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s what it ultimately boils down to,” Katrina agreed. Her voice saddened as she added, “Maintaining food and shelter, preparing the next generation to do the same thing.”

“You sound disappointed,” Wearwolf noted. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Katrina looked down at Wearwolf and sighed. Then she walked over to her dresser and started rummaging through the drawers.

“Could you turn around please?” Katrina asked.

“What ever for?” Wearwolf asked.

“I’m going to change my clothes,” Katrina answered.

“Why does this require me to turn around?” Wearwolf asked.

“Because I’m going to be taking off my clothes,” Katrina explained. Sensing that Wearwolf had missed the point completely, she added, “And I don’t want you to watch me.”

“Why not?” Wearwolf asked. “Are you attempting to hide some sort of disfiguration from me?”

“No, it’s just rude,” Katrina replied.

“It is rude to view the bare flesh of others?” Wearwolf inquired.

“Yeah,” Katrina answered. “Well, not all of it. The extremities are okay, but some of the torso is off-limits.”

“Such as?” asked Wearwolf.

“Well, uh,” Katrina stammered, blushing. “I can’t really say…”

“Why not?” Wearwolf inquired.

“Er, well…” Katrina started, blushing slightly. “Just turn around, won’t you?”

“Okay, fine,” Wearwolf conceded as he turned away.

“Thank you,” Katrina sighed. She proceeded to pull clothes from the dresser. Meanwhile Wearwolf padded over to the edge of Katrina’s loft and looked down through the bars of the banister at the room below. The cottage was divided into three main rooms: Katrina’s room, her parents’ bedroom, and a combination kitchen, dining, and living room. Like most other houses in the village, the two bedrooms were stacked on top of each other, allowing people in the upper bedroom to look down into the larger main room. There was, of course, the bathroom, situated along the same dividing wall as the bedroom and bore a sign on the door reading “Toilet,” as was the style of the time.

“Do all children sleep in lofts like this?” Wearwolf asked.

“Yeah,” Katrina answered. “I think it has to do with protecting us from predators or something.”

“If you were at ground level, you could flee from predators much easier,” Wearwolf pointed out.

“But from here I could push down the ladder and it wouldn’t be able to climb up,” Katrina informed.

“Unless it climbed up while you were asleep,” Wearwolf said.

“I probably wouldn’t be able to run while I was asleep, either, would I?” Katrina challenged.

“No, I suppose you would not,” Wearwolf conceded.

“What about you, Wearwolf?” Katrina asked. “Do you have friends or family in the woods?”

“My friends were my family,” Wearwolf replied. “And my family were my friends.”

“Are you worried about them?” Katrina inquired further. “With that hunter on the loose and all?”

“Worried?” Wearwolf questioned, craning his neck back towards Katrina. He got a nightgown thrown over his face for his efforts. He turned back around, saying, “I have no reason to be concerned about them.”

“They can take care of themselves, huh?” Katrina clarified.

Wearwolf was silent for a moment. Katrina noticed his tail lying limply on the floor.

“That would be a sufficient approximation, yes,” Wearwolf said.

Katrina picked the nightgown off Wearwolf and dropped it and her used unmentionables into the hamper on the lower floor. The hamper proceeded to scuttle off to assist with the laundry. Katrina led Wearwolf to a nearby ladder and began to climb down wearing a pair of blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt. She never liked to put a lot of effort into how she looked, so she rarely wore make up and usually tied her jet-black hair back in a simple ponytail. Likewise, her body wasn’t very well defined and was shaped more like a ruler than an hourglass, not that you could tell beneath that sweatshirt.

“Where are we going?” Wearwolf asked, perched on the edge as Katrina descended. “I thought we were to be resting.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in the mood to lie around anymore,” Katrina answered. “Besides, I’m getting hungry.”

Katrina’s father, a stout, middle-aged man with a thick, black moustache and noticeable baldness, met the pair at the bottom of the ladder. Aside from his usual work clothes, he wore a slightly unsurprised look of concern. The beaver with the serrated tail by his feet shared the expression.

“Good morning, daddy,” Katrina greeted cheerfully as Wearwolf hopped down from the loft. He landed hard on his paws, causing him to wince and whimper slightly.

“Good morning, Katrina,” her father replied. He knelt down and scratched Wearwolf behind the ear, saying, “And good morning to you too, Wearwolf.”

Wearwolf jerked his head away from Katrina’s father’s hand and growled slightly.

“If you don’t want him touching you like that, you should just tell him,” Katrina told her animal partner.

“Oh, I wouldn’t’ve been able to understand him, anyway,” her father said. “The Rite of Initiation allowed you to form an empathic link with Wearwolf. Only you can understand exactly what he’s saying.”

“You mean like how you and Cleaver can talk for hours on end and I only understand half of it?” Katrina analogized, thinking of her father’s semi-aquatic rodent companion.

“Exactly!” her father confirmed.

“Or how you can talk to your father for hours on end and he won’t hear anything,” Katrina’s mother jokingly added as she entered from the kitchen and placed a tray full of pancakes on the table.

“What was that, dearest?” Katrina’s father asked jovially.

“Never mind dear,” Katrina’s mother replied, rolling her eyes.

“So, Katrina, been out beating down hunters, have we?” Katrina’s father inquired as he and Katrina sat down to breakfast. Her mother returned to the kitchen to retrieve food for their animals.

“I wouldn’t really call it a beat down,” Katrina admitted. “He probably would’ve gotten the upper hand eventually. I’m not going to have to try again to do it properly, am I?”

“Does your wolf mind eating out of bowl, honey?” Katrina’s mother called from the kitchen area.

“Do you?” Katrina asked Wearwolf.

“I prefer my meat fresh, preferably live enough for me to kill,” Wearwolf answered. “Although, in my condition even carrion will do.”

Katrina thought about that response for a moment, and then called to her mother, “I think it’s fine as long as it’s not dry food.”

“I hardly think its necessary for a do-over,” Katrina’s father answered his daughter’s previous question. “Since time immemorial, there has never been such a thing as a ‘typical’ Rite of Initiation. Far more dangerous things have interrupted a Rite. Your uncle Steve was nearly crushed by a meteor.”

“I thought that was your cousin Cooter,” Katrina’s mother said as she returned with a bowl of meat chunks for Wearwolf and some fish for Cleaver. A cat, recently roused by the smell of fish, scampered out of the bedroom and, upon seeing Wearwolf, bolted for cover in the kitchen area. Mother followed the feline to feed her.

“No, no, Cooter was abducted by aliens,” father corrected. “They probed him and put a chip in his head, remember?”

“They’re both full of it if you ask me,” mother said as she returned to the table and sat down. “Didn’t they also take one of his kidneys?”

“That was Alejandro in New Tijuana,” father answered. “Funniest thing. Just like old Tijuana back on Earth, or so I hear.”

“I hear that Mrs. Chardonnay got caught in a storm while at sea and washed up on an uncharted island during her Rite,” mother added.

“Anyway, the point is no two people experience exactly the same Rite,” father continued. “Well, given that they weren’t on the same Rite, of course.”

“So how do I know if I’ve done it right?” Katrina asked. “What if I wasn’t supposed to get Wearwolf?”

“You got and bonded with an animal,” mother replied. “That’s all that needs to happen. Otherwise…”

The room became deathly silent. People don’t really talk about what happens when someone returns without an animal. Most either come back with one or they don’t come back at all. Or at least they might as well.

“Is there something wrong with Wearwolf?” father asked.

“No, its just not what I was expecting,” Katrina answered.

“That’s par for the course, really,” father said. “I never expected to be a lumberjack, but here I am.”

“I think it suits her, really,” mother said thoughtfully. “She is very loyal to her friends.”

“And she is a take-charge kind of girl,” father added. “An alpha female, so to speak.”

“Got along real well with boys,” mother continued.

“Burying bones in the yard,” father reminisced. “Howling at the moon…”

“Dad!” Katrina admonished.

“You know your father’s only kidding, Katrina,” mother said.

“Yes, it was only that one time,” father said.

“Yeah, so let’s never speak of it again,” Katrina said sternly. Changing the subject, she wondered aloud, “Since Wearwolf is a rare Armor-type, do you think that means I have a rare destiny?”

“It could mean a lot of things,” father replied. “Maybe it just shows an advantage to your protective nature. You could work in medicine, or child care, or…”

“I could be a Chimera Knight?” Katrina asked hopefully.

Father sighed reproachfully.

“Katrina, I know you’ve always wanted to be a Chimera Knight,” he said, “But you’re our only child. I want you to be happy, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. Being a guardian is dangerous business and I don’t want to see you getting hurt. I know I can’t really tell you what to do anymore, but please look into other fields, sweetie. We love you too much to let you put yourself in danger like that.”

“Mom?” Katrina asked with a pleading look on her face.

“What you learn from the Rite is like fortune-telling,” mother said. “At it’s most accurate, it can only tell you things you know or vague generalities. Only you can decide what it really means, even if it’s only what you want to hear. All I can say is follow your heart and don’t be too surprised if it gets broken along the way.”

“Okay,” Katrina conceded with some disappointment. She had already decided that an Armor-type – a creature capable of transforming into living armor – was better than just a Weapon or Shield-type. Either of those two alone would’ve suggested a warrior’s path, unlike, say, the more prevalent Tool-types, which over-lapped with the Weapon-types in terms of general function but didn’t necessarily lend themselves to combat too well. She felt the rare Armor-type, especially one capable of both defense and offense, not only defined but also justified her dreams. No one could really argue with it, but her parents put up a decent fight nonetheless. After breakfast, she decided to find a second opinion.

Chapter1: Initiation

Thunder boomed overhead as Katrina crept through the forest. The cliché dark and stormy night was not a good setting for one’s Rite of Initiation, she decided. She wasn’t very far from the village, but she couldn’t turn back now. Tonight was her sixteenth birthday, and tradition dictated that she enter the forest in search of her animal counterpart in order to become an adult. Being a girl she wasn’t required to go alone, but she chose that anyway. Besides, she heard about what often happens when a guy accompanies a girl on a Rite, and she didn’t really like any of the boys in the village like that.

Lightning flashed again, briefly illuminating the forest. The instance was the exact opposite of comforting. All it did was change the shadows, forcing them to take on more ghastly forms. This gave Katrina a stronger sense of dangerous somethings moving about in the darkness. Telling herself that it was all in her head wasn’t going to help, for those somethings were very real and likely to be both moving and dangerous. She just hoped they weren’t very hungry.

Katrina pushed onward. She reminded herself that it wasn’t the first time she had been in these woods. She used to play here all the time and knew the area like the back of her hand. Of course, she rarely stuck around after dark and she never had to find something she never saw before. She had no idea how long she would be out here. The elders were tight-lipped when it came to the Rite, as it was a carefully guarded secret, but she knew some who stayed out all night and others who disappeared for over a week.

Her skirt caught on a bush and she immediately regretted her choice of outfit. Sure, the tan skirt looked cute enough with her lambskin blouse, but ceremonial garments were hardly meant for roughing it in the forest. She gave the skirt a rough tug, tearing it slightly but freeing her nonetheless. She gave an exasperated sigh.

“This is just perfect,” she grumbled as she continued onward in no particular direction. “I knew I should’ve worn pants. Maybe I wouldn’t be so cold, either. What the Hell was I thinking? I’m just glad it’s not raining.”

Katrina felt a small drop of water penetrate her jet-black hair and hit her scalp. Another collided with her nose and yet another splashed against her knee. Lightning flashed again, later accompanied by the requisite thunder, and revealed the stains left behind by the water droplets on her blouse. She groaned audibly and put her arms over her head in a futile attempt to shield herself from the rain. It was a light rain so far, but she would eventually be soaked just the same.

She trudged on with no clear sense of direction. The dark was bad enough and now she was going to be wet, too. She didn’t even care about the creepiness anymore. She was too fed up to be scared. Now she just wanted to find her new pet and go home. She had hoped this would be a spiritual experience, but so far it’s been a real pain in the ass. But this was an important Rite, and if it wasn’t for the fact that this was the most important event of her life, she would’ve just turned around and left the forest.

Katrina tripped and fell face-first into a puddle. She sat up and wiped the mud from her eyes. Her favorite blouse was now caked with mud. She growled fiercely and slammed a fist against the puddle. She felt tears well up in her eyes and moments later she started laughing. She laughed like a madwoman.

“Is that it, huh?” she shouted to the thundering sky. “You wanna humiliate me, right? Send me home cryin’ to my mommy? Huh? Is that it? Is that what you want? You want to make me the butt some kinda cosmic joke? Huh? Well I’m not that kinda girl, so you can just find yourself another butt! You freaked me out with the lightning, you soaked me, you tore my skirt, you ruined my top, and now it’s personal! I’m seeing this through whether you like it or not! Whaddaya say about that, huh!?”

Lightning struck a nearby tree and toppled it. It landed right in front of her.

“Okay, I’m outta here,” Katrina said. Lighting flashed again as she scrambled to her feet and in the din she saw eyes reflected in the shadows. Yet another flash revealed the canine features of a wolf just before it bolted into the darkness.

“Whoa,” she remarked. An instant later a thought occurred to her. Was this wolf her animal counterpart? If she let this wolf run away, would any other creature appear to her? What would she do if she couldn’t find her counterpart?

“Wait!” she cried out, chasing after the wolf. She tore through the woods with only the occasional flash of lightning telling her where the canine was going. She pushed through bushes, stumbled over roots, and scrambled over rocks. Katrina had no idea where she was being led, but she knew she had to catch that wolf.

Katrina stumbled to a stop to catch her breath. Lightning flashed again, but the wolf was nowhere to be seen. She sighed dejectedly, but as she began to wander off she heard the wolf’s howl followed by a painful yelp. It was a sound that filled her with dread. She ran in the direction of the howl.

It was raining harder than ever now and she was surprised to find the light of a lantern. She came across a small glade that was flooding into a shallow river. As she drew near, she could see the wolf was staring down a large man. The man had his back to her, but from where she was Katrina could see the blood dripping from the man’s sword. The same blood was dripping from the wolf’s shoulder. The adjacent leg quivered under what little weight was put on it and tried its best not to buckle.

“Well, well, aren’t I a lucky one?” the man said, the Cheshire grin apparent in his voice. His white hair cascaded over his dark shoulders like the sheets of rain pouring through the canopy. “Here I thought I was having a bad night and here you come running through the trees right into my waiting blade. I should get a good price for yer skin, yes siree.”

“No!” Katrina shouted as she saw the man raise his sword. She grabbed the first large stick she could reach and ran towards him. The stick broke over his head, causing the man to stoop over slightly. Katrina cowered a little when the man looked back at her with a spiteful eye.

“Oh, an animal lover, eh?” the man noted. Before she knew it, Katrina was slumped against a tree nursing a gash in her shoulder. He knelt down, bringing his face into hers and lifting her chin with his blade. “You oughtta mind yer own, gel. Else’ll get more’n a bloody shoulder, eh wot? Now, if ya ask real nice, and promise not to squeal on me, maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you live ‘til mornin’.”

The man turned back to the wolf, who was already in mid-lunge. The man knocked the wolf away with a flash of steel, opening a new wound in its hind leg. The wolf landed with a limp.

“Now hold yer horses, I’m gettin’ to yer,” the man admonished. “If ya get too antsy, yer skin won’t be worth nuthin’ and we can’t have that now, can we?”

Katrina leapt up and latched her arms around the man’s neck and attempted to wrestle him to the ground. He was knocked off balance but despite Katrina’s efforts managed to remain standing. He backed her up hard against a tree, causing her to lose her grip and fall into the mud.

“What did I just say!?” the man roared. “What, the, bloody, Hell, did I just tell you? Now, if yer gonna be misbehavin’ I’m gonna havta lop yer naffin’ ‘ead off!”

The wolf latched its jaws around the man’s sword arm just as he began to raise it. Katrina followed suit, grabbing the man by the wrist and attempting to disarm him. The man threw her to the ground, her head bouncing off a thick tree root, then grabbed the wolf by the scruff of the neck with his free hand and threw it on top of her.

“Now, unless you have anymore surprises, I think I’ll move on to killing both of you,” the man said keenly. “That’ll teach you to mess with Rossiter.”

Katrina couldn’t tell what was going on. Images were blurring around her as her head exploded with pain. Despite the fact that it was on top of her, she felt like she was falling into the wolf. Time felt as if it were slowing down and Katrina knew that if she didn’t do something they would both die.

“Katrina…”

What? Who’s voice was that?

“Become one with me, Katrina. I have not the strength and you have not the experience, but together we can overcome. Trust me if you want to live.”

Katrina could swear the voice was coming from inside her head. It also had a very good point. She didn’t know what it meant at the moment, but she knew she felt the same way. They must fight together.

Her vision began to clear and she saw the flash of steel as the man brought the sword to bear. Katrina instinctively parried with her claws, bringing the weapon to a stop. But Katrina didn’t recall having claws a second ago.

“Strike now, Katrina!” the voice said.

Katrina swept a leg into the man’s feet, knocking him to the ground. She shakily climbed to her feet.

“What the Hell is going on?” Katrina asked. She looked at her hands and remarked, “Whoa.”

For lack of a better word, Katrina was now wearing the wolf. It’s limbs stretched over hers like gloves and boots. She could feel the warmth emanating from the fur covering her chest, shoulders, and back. The wolf’s head was wrapped around her own.

“You are doing good, but do not let your guard down,” the voice said. Katrina realized it wasn’t a voice in her head but a deep growl from the wolf-hood. The wolf was talking to her.

“Um, what?” Katrina asked.

“Well, congratulations,” the man, Rossiter, said maliciously as he rose to his feet. “You bonded with the Wearwolf. Armor-types are hard to come by. I should know. I make a living hunting the little blighters down. Rare beasts make big money and, quite frankly, I’m not about to let a silly little girl’s Rite of Initiation keep me from my prize!”

Rossiter swung his sword and Katrina backed out of its range.

“We must fight him, Katrina!” Wearwolf urged.

“But I don’t know how!” Katrina replied, narrowly dodging another slice.

“Just follow your instincts,” Wearwolf instructed. “Allow me to guide you.”

Rossiter swung downward, but hit nothing but water. Katrina launched herself up from the blunt back edge of his sword and gave him swift kick to the head. Rossiter stumbled backwards a little before getting his bearings.

“Hey, I got him!” Katrina exclaimed.

“Do not get cocky,” Wearwolf said. “He is not down yet.”

Rossiter stepped forward and swung for Katrina’s neck. She ducked the attack and drove a fist into his gut. She punched him there again, causing him to double over, then she slammed her head into his chin. They both stumbled back, Katrina clutching the top of her head.

“Ow, that one hurt!” Katrina complained.

“We can cover the intricacies later,” Wearwolf said. “Just keep your head in the game.”

Rossiter thrust with his sword, but Katrina sidestepped it. She spun around, grabbing his wrist with one hand and ramming the opposite elbow into his head. She then twisted back around, tossing him to the ground in front of her. With a quick wrench of his wrist, she forced him to drop his sword.

Rossiter broke from the hold and scrambled to his feet. He plucked his sword from the water and brandished it at his foe only to find she had disappeared. He circled around cautiously, expecting a surprise attack. None came.

The rising rainwater eventually flooded the lantern he had left on the ground and extinguished its flame. It dawned on Rossiter that his prey had long since fled. He gave a cry of rage and cleaved some branches off a few nearby trees. Grumbling, he picked up his water-filled lantern and sloshed off for drier ground.

Katrina and Wearwolf watched Rossiter, unseen from the boughs of a nearby tree.

“We did not finish the battle,” Wearwolf noted. “He is not even unconscious. Did you not want to fight him to the end?”

“We could’ve,” Katrina admitted. “But why should we? All we wanted was to stay alive, and now we are. It didn’t matter to me how it ended. All that mattered to me was, well… you.”

Katrina sensed surprise from Wearwolf. She leaned back against the tree trunk and hugged herself a little.

“What about you?” Katrina asked. “What would you have done?”

“I would have killed him if I had to,” Wearwolf answered. “But I did not think about fighting him until you tried to defend me. He might have taken it out on you if I tried to escape. I would have defended you until the end, but… I have no regrets for how we handled that fight.”

“You’re just glad I’m still alive?” Katrina inquired. She sensed that Wearwolf agreed. Her eyes closed a little.

“You’re tired,” Wearwolf noted. “If you feel your Rite has ended, we can return to your village.”

“I guess,” Katrina replied with a slight whine. She sat back up, wincing slightly at the pain in her shoulder. “We should at least get these wounds looked at. Can’t start the first day of the rest of our lives with gangrene now, can we?”

Wearwolf grinned in appreciation.

“No, I suppose we cannot,” Wearwolf replied.

Preface

Welcome to MultiPets: the Chimera Knight. This blog will, for no good reason, host my my novel in progress of the same name. I have some stuff written up, not necessarily in directly progressive order, which I will begin posting soon. I may even post some non-MultiPet stuff if I feel like it. Feel free to make any sort of comments. This is my first novel, so I want it to be as good as possible before I publish it. Well, if I can once it is on the 'net. Henceforth, let it be known that the concepts, characters, and related indicia will be copyright of me. Who am I? On the 'net, I prefer to be known as Chet Weaver. If you know me in real life and/or recognize my work from the fiction-writing class I'm taking, yes, this is me, and refrain from revealing my real name on the 'net if possible.

Here is the backstory for this novel. *Raises arm and smoke billows in from nowhere.* Thousands of years in the future, the terraformation of Mars has begun. Due to an unfortunate accident, an orbiting colony ship crash-lands on the planet during the process. For a full year, the survivors of the crash endured the calamitous hardships and chaos of the planetary transformation. Once the environment settled, the surviving humans found themselves reborn. They were now more than human. The quickly-evolving wildlife had taken on the properties of the smashed and broken equipment on board the colony ship, and the humans had developed the ability to form empathic bonds with these creatures. Together, the humans and their animal partners, referred to as "MultiPets," could do more than either could seperate.

Humans and MultiPets joined forces according to their nature and built a new civilization upon the reborn planet, henceforth known as Aries. Of the many traditions developed over the generations, one of the most important is the Rite of Initiation. When a child reaches the age of sixteen, he or she enters the wilderness and embarks upon a quest to find their MultiPet partners. When they return with their partners, they are then considered adults in their society. Those that don't are presumed dead and never return.

Our story begins on no particular date. This day is only of particular importance to our young heroine, her family, and her friends. That heroine is Katrina Arden of Wine Town, and that day is her sixteenth birthday. We will join her as she sets out on the path to adulthood, and on the road to danger...