Chapter 2 Bonds of Sorrow

As the audience began to disperse, leaving the grand circus tent to the echoing sounds of their collective experiences, two figures remained behind, finding solace in each other's silent company. These two figures were Johnathan and Yeltfa, their presence accentuated by the two empty cages nearby, stark reminders of the recent tragedy that had unfolded before the eyes of the world.

John turned to his loyal wolf companion, his eyes heavy with grief and his heart burdened by unspoken questions. "Yeltfa," he began, his voice a fragile tremor in the midst of overwhelming emotions, "can you help me understand what happened out there? How did you do it, and why did you wait until after Bloka and Wakita were gone?" His voice wavered, and tears threatened to overcome his resolve. "I don't even know why I'm asking you these questions; you're a wolf, after all. Do you even understand me?"

Yeltfa, the enigmatic wolf, turned her gaze toward her beloved master, her eyes mirroring an understanding that transcended the limitations of words. She opened her jaw briefly, as if she wanted to speak, yet chose to remain silent, her intent clear in the depths of her intelligent eyes.

John pressed on, his voice carrying the weight of his grief and the desperate need for answers. "Throughout my life, I've never had someone who truly cared about me," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "But these past two years with you and the pack have been the best of my life." Overwhelmed by a complex tapestry of feelings, he abruptly rose from his seated position, his long strides carrying him toward his office, with Yeltfa following closely, a silent guardian of his pain.

Inside the sanctuary of the office, away from the prying eyes and hushed murmurs of the circus that carried on outside, John turned to Yeltfa once more. "Yeltfa," he uttered, his voice a mixture of wonder and despair, "what are you?" His yearning for answers was met with the solemn hush of the room, where only silence seemed to dwell.

As they stood there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions and questions that seemed to have no earthly answers, John approached his desk and retrieved a German Luger gun, a trophy from the Great War that he had taken from the body of a German soldier that he had killed. He turned to Yeltfa again, his voice reduced to a mere whisper, desperation coursing through his words like an unrelenting tide. "My neck was in Caelum's jaws. I was torn apart, drifting toward death, and yet, I don't have a scratch on me. So, I'll ask again. What are you?"

Yeltfa met her master's searching gaze with her own intelligent eyes, the depths of which concealed a multitude of enigmas and untold stories.

In the confined space of the office, the air seemed to constrict, bearing the weight of unspoken questions, lingering grief, and the shared experiences that had forged their extraordinary bond. John took a deep breath, attempting to steady the tempest of thoughts and emotions that raged within him. He recognized that Yeltfa was more than just a wolf; she was an extraordinary force, a guardian that had intervened at the precipice of his demise.

With a heavy sigh, John carefully returned the Luger to its resting place within the drawer, the cold metal serving as a tangible reminder of the uncharted territory they were now traversing. "Perhaps," he mused aloud, addressing both Yeltfa and the somber room, "some things are destined to remain shrouded in mystery."

As if in response to his acknowledgment, Yeltfa gently nuzzled her head against his hand, her touch serving as a silent reassurance that transcended the need for spoken words. In that intimate moment, amidst the uncertainties and the unexplainable, John understood that there were mysteries that might never be fully unraveled, and yet, they could be embraced, cherished even.

With newfound determination, he leaned down and whispered into Yeltfa's ear, his voice a pledge of unwavering commitment, "We'll face the unknown together, won't we, old friend?"

In the tranquility of the office, a place where time itself appeared to stand still in reverence of their shared understanding, Yeltfa's eyes shone with an unearthly wisdom that transcended the limits of human comprehension. Together, they were bound by a destiny whose extraordinary secrets had just begun to unfurl. In their shared journey, they were determined to uncover the answers they sought, no matter how elusive or profound those answers might prove to be.

Suddenly, as if emerging from the depths of a hidden realm, Yeltfa broke the silence, her voice resonating with an eerie, otherworldly quality. "Now that you know this much, I can reveal everything to you, my Love."

John jolted with surprise, his heart quickening its pace. Yeltfa had spoken, and her words carried a gravity that could not be ignored. He returned to his chair, his gaze firmly locked onto her, eager for the long-awaited answers.

"I am the embodiment of lightning and justice," Yeltfa continued, "some may even call me a 'lesser god,' and for others, a harbinger of vengeance."

The room seemed to vibrate with an invisible energy as Yeltfa's words hung in the air. The revelation was both astonishing and perplexing. John's mind whirred with countless questions, but one fact remained indisputable—Yeltfa was no ordinary wolf. Her presence, her abilities, and her true nature were a complex tapestry of enigmatic threads, and John had only just begun to unravel their intricate weave.

"What game are you playing at?" John asked, his voice firm and unwavering. "Is the wolf that I took care of and loved a lie?" He gazed at Yeltfa, searching for answers.

Yeltfa responded quickly, her tone earnest. "No! I'm still the same as I was. The only thing that has changed is that now you know who and what I am."

A heavy silence settled between them, like a weighty secret they both carried. They stared at each other, words failing to bridge the chasm that had opened before them.

The silence finally broke as John opened his desk drawer once more and retrieved the Luger pistol. He aimed it at Yeltfa and pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the room, but the bullet passed right through Yeltfa and struck the door behind her.

"I see," John said, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and disbelief. "So, I'm not going insane."

Yeltfa replied, her tone carrying a hint of amusement, "I mean, did you have to shoot me with Sergeant Samuels' gun?"

John's surprise and anger flared. "How do you know his name?!"

John stood up abruptly, his towering figure casting a shadow over Yeltfa.

Yeltfa responded with a thunderous voice that reverberated through the entire circus tent, "SIT BACK DOWN, CHILD! And I will explain, my love."

Reluctantly, John sat back down, still bewildered by the strange experience. It was as if a compelling force had compelled him to obey. His thoughts briefly drifted to a memory from his childhood when he was six years old, sitting on the floor for Bible study and schooling at the behest of his mother. He shook his head, returning his focus to the present.

Yeltfa began to speak, "Now, I have been watching you since the tragedy struck your family. My attention is naturally drawn to those with a burning spark of vengeance. After all, I am the spirit of vengeance."

As John listened to Yeltfa speak, her voice provided an unexpected comfort, and a single tear welled up in his eye. He discreetly wiped it away, though it didn't escape Yeltfa's keen perception. She paused her speech, her form shifting into something more human-like – long white hair framed a slim, round face, and her appearance held a distinctly feminine, motherly quality. After her transformation, she gracefully approached John, enfolding him in her embrace, a mother to a son who had long yearned for such warmth. A strange and unfamiliar sensation washed over him, like a long-lost memory surfacing from the depths of his soul. It was a feeling he should have experienced in his childhood, yet the cruelties of life had denied him that privilege."John," Yeltfa said gently, "I understand that something feels amiss. I've watched you endure suffering throughout your life, and I've known suffering too, my love."Tears brimmed in John's eyes as he began to speak, his voice quivering, "Why are you doing this? I have nothing to give you."Yeltfa, somewhat taken aback but empathetic to John's trust issues, replied, "I don't want anything from you, John. The Cree tribe in Canada sometimes referred to me as kihci nikâwiy mahihkan, the Great Mother Wolf. Before I am the spirit of lightning and vengeance, I am a mother. There is nothing in this world that can change that."A soft smile graced John's lips, but it quickly faded as he pushed Yeltfa away."I… I have to get things ready for tomorrow's performance," he mumbled, his gaze drifting. "It was supposed to feature Caelum the lion, but…" His voice trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. He walked out of his office and into the circus grounds, only to be met with a baffling sight. Caelum the lion, who should have met his demise, was very much alive and beginning to move about."It seems Wiper decided not to reap Caelum's soul and resurrected him," Yeltfa chimed in, her tone playful and amused.John's expression contorted in confusion. "Wiper? Who…?" His words died on his lips as he turned to look at Yeltfa. In that moment, she had shifted back into her wolf form, her eyes holding a mischievous glint.Chuckling, she explained, "Hehe! He is what you humans call the Grim Reaper or the angel of death. He is one of the oldest spirits, and my senior in rank and power. He is one of the four otherworldly spirits chosen by God to be full-time spirits."John's bewilderment only deepened. "What… then what are you?'' With a sense of amusement in her tone, Yeltfa replied, "I am a full-time spirit like Wiper, but I am not otherworldly. I was born on Earth; he wasn't."As enlightenment dawned upon him, John continued to walk down the stairs, his mind buzzing with newfound knowledge about the extraordinary beings that inhabited his world.