Rise of the Underdogs: Jasper

Unexpected Ally

The idea of encountering a Bear shifter seemed almost mythical, bordering on the realm of fables. Despite the improbability, I was not willing to dismiss any potential options from our list of possibilities. If that type of shifter truly existed, it might be possible to approach one and explain our situation.

I shook my head as I stared at the falling flakes. Snow was covering everything in another layer of pure white.

The world seemed transformed by this gentle snowfall. Each flake settling quietly, creating a pristine landscape where even the smallest imperfections vanished beneath its soft embrace. As I watched, the snow masked familiar shapes and colours, turning them into something ethereal and serene. A thread-bare veil that half hid the world from natural eyes. The untouched whiteness suggested a sense of renewal, as if nature itself had paused to lay down this pure, delicate shroud.

A blanket of cold so soft and pure, so untouched, that it looked like dust from angel wings.

No, I didn’t follow conventional religions.

My beliefs and traditions were shaped by my ancestry, by a lineage that traced back to a dwindling branch of Inuit people. Our survival was intimately connected to a fateful pact made generations ago with a handful of rare white wolves who were also dying out. There, on the edge of existence, a deal of co-dependant survival was struck in the harsh and unforgiving Arctic. This sacred union between human and wolf bestowed unique gifts upon every descendant.

Each child born from this line carried a distinctive mark: jewelled eyes, each a random colour, reflecting the innate powers passed down through our blood. While the specific hue could differ from one generation to the next, this trait served as a visible symbol of our heritage and the unique gifts inherited from our ancestors. In some family lines, the eye colour remained consistent over the years, signifying a strong connection to particular abilities or ancestral spirits. These jewelled eyes not only set us apart but also reminded us of the sacred union between human and wolf that shaped our destiny.

Alongside this, we inherited varying shades of blond hair that, when we shifted into our wolf forms, provided perfect camouflage in the endless, snowy expanse of the North. This adaptation allowed our people to blend seamlessly into the Arctic landscape, ensuring our survival in a world where only the most resourceful could thrive.

The pale tones of our hair mirrored the icy environment, transforming us into near-invisible shadows moving across the tundra. This natural advantage was crucial in both hunting and evading dangers. It was not merely a matter of appearance; it was a vital trait, deeply woven into our lineage and our continuing story of perseverance. Every generation, marked by jewelled eyes and fair hair, carried these gifts as silent testimony to the pact that shaped our existence and to the resilient spirit of our ancestors.

As I searched the snowy ground, I found several chunks of wood that seemed suitable for carving. Grateful for the Earth Mother’s generous offerings, I passed the pieces to my siblings, trusting that even in these harsh conditions our skills and traditions would serve us well.

River searched the rear of the cave, coincidentally stumbling upon an old, battered pot among our sparse supplies. With careful effort, he managed to mend it, restoring its usefulness for our camp. Though still young, he possessed a remarkable knack for creation. Seizing the opportunity, he turned our situation into a teachable moment. He handed each of our siblings a piece of wood, encouraging them to participate in the process.

Using the sharpened bone and stone tools he always carried, River carefully carved hand-hewn bowls, demonstrating both patience and ingenuity. His actions not only provided us with essential utensils, but also reinforced the importance of resourcefulness and gratitude, even in the midst of adversity.

Carson and Quinton worked together, collecting fresh snow and searching the landscape for anything to season the meat. Thanks to the lessons passed down through generations, they were able to identify and gather herbs that others might easily overlook, hidden in plain sight among the wintery terrain. Their efforts reflected the resourcefulness and deep knowledge inherited from our ancestors, allowing us to thrive even in the harshest conditions.

As they gathered the ingredients for our meal, they unearthed wild carrots, rutabaga, and potatoes that had long lain hidden beneath the snow. These hardy roots provided a perfect foundation for our pot, which was filled with freshly melted snow, transforming the simple water into a nourishing base.

To enrich the broth, we carefully added birch bark, specifically its cambium layer, known for its subtle yet earthy flavour and its ability to enhance the richness of the soup. The addition of roseroot and angelica root brought further depth, their medicinal qualities valued by our ancestors for generations. Fireweed and spruce sprouts completed the mixture, creating a broth that was not only hearty and satisfying but also imbued with natural healing properties.

This combination of ingredients yielded a robust, healthy broth—one capable of reducing inflammation, aiding the healing of minor wounds, and providing warmth from within. The natural vitamins and nutrients found in these wild plants and roots reflected our enduring connection to the land, ensuring our bodies were fortified against the harsh Arctic conditions.

While preparing the meal, Levi split his focus on teaching our younger siblings the essential skill of skinning game. Carefully, he demonstrated the proper technique, ensuring they understood how to remove the hide without damaging it. Levi explained the importance of saving the fat for future use, showing our siblings how to collect it and seal it away in a small wooden container from his hip pouch.

Once the hares were skinned, Levi stretched each hide across two sticks and placed them near the small fire the group had built just inside the cave. The fire was intentionally kept modest. Something just big enough to cook the food, keep the younger pups warm, and dry the hides while remaining inconspicuous enough to avoid drawing unwanted attention. In this way, my siblings not only prepared our meal but also ensured that no part of my catch went to waste, following the traditions and wisdom of our ancestors.

All of this activity unfolded as I stood sentinel in the snow, unmoving and silent. My gaze swept the landscape, absorbing both the intricate details and the vast emptiness that surrounded our camp. Seated upon a flat, snow-covered stone to the left of the cave entrance, I remained vigilant, quietly observing my siblings and our surroundings as they worked together to ensure our survival.

A quiet shift in the distance suddenly had me on high alert. The stillness of my watch was broken, and my senses sharpened instinctively. My fingers reached for the branch I had carefully whittled into a spear, the wood smooth and reassuring in my grip. I barely managed to close my hand around it before the air was split by the reverberating chuff of a polar bear. The deep, guttural sound echoed across the snowy expanse. It was a warning and a challenge all at once, reminding me of both the dangers lurking beyond our camp and the necessity to remain vigilant in these unforgiving surroundings.

Its hide was criss-crossed with scars—raised, pale marks that spoke of countless battles endured throughout its lifetime. As the figure approached, its features began to shift, revealing a transformation that was both mesmerizing and unsettling. Where once stood a bear, there now appeared a man with long, white hair, each strand adorned with bone and colourful strings crafted from animal sinew dyed with plant essence and steeped flower petals. His eyes, a deep and sombre brown, reflected the richness of the earth, while his tanned face bore wrinkles etched by years of survival and exposure to the elements.

The white bear furs that had enveloped him changed along with his form, erasing any doubt that this was no ordinary shape-shifter. The transformation was striking, further emphasised by the distinctive adornments and the weathered appearance that could only come from a life lived in harsh conditions. Every detail—from the scars to the sinew-bound hair and the aged features—marked him as a being shaped by both conflict and resilience, a living embodiment of survival in the unforgiving wilderness.

I stood, the spear forgotten in the snow as he cautiously approached. “Name yourself, stranger!”

“You are young, Pup. And a long way from home,” he declared, tossing a bundle at my feet when he was close enough without triggering my protective streak. “Provisions.”

Stunned, I dropped to my knees in the snow and looked into the bundle. Dried herbs, medicinal creams made in the traditional way, with dried fish and meat tied with reeds and wrapped in animal skin for preservation. “Why?”

“Many have heard what happened to your people,” he said, his voice deep and vibrating on the frosty air. “I am the last Elder of the Polar shifters, remaining here in my ancestral home to help the lost find their way. I scented you, but not the pups within until recently. Good. You know to cover your tracks and keep things simple. It is well when the young learn the old ways of survival.”

I stepped toward the cave entrance, not making any move to attack or defend. “You’re helping?”

“I help because children should not suffer the sins of their ancestors,” he said. Leaning on the staff he held, he continued, “I watched you protect those pups, create false trails, and bring back food after lamenting the she-wolf. Let your soul rest, child. You didn’t kill without reason, but to extend your life and that of the ones you hold dear enough to guard.”

“My siblings,” I said without thinking.

He nodded, “I am Ujurak.”

“Jasper,” I replied, offering my own name.

“Go, have time with your family. I will stand guard for you. No one will bother an old Bear shifter resting by his home.” He told me, ushering me into the cave to get warm and eat while he lowered himself to sit where I had once sat.