Author's Note: Hi! It's me again! So, this fic is a little...different. Well, for me, anyway. This is probably as far from canon as I've ever gone, so brace yourselves.

The idea, and plot, and, well...everything but the actual writing part, was made up by my fabulous friend, Avid Vampire Hunter! (Bleach fans should totally check her out, and she's even dabbled in a little 13 fanfiction). So if you love this story, it's her fault. If you hate it, it's mine. Any and all failures should be blamed on me. Because as any repeat readers will know, I suck.

But you didn't come here for an author's note, did you? Didn't think so. Time for the story!

Prologue

It was generations ago - three to be precise. Three generations since one of destiny's fragile, ever-weaving threads was stiffened so that all others attached to it could never break free. Their fate was sealed.

This thread was pulled taut by a curse. One that was fueled by an intense hatred and love combined. So powerful was the hold on the thread that the only way for the others to be free was to break, and thus be destroyed.

One who is capable of possessing knowledge of such things as fate and destiny could follow the unfortunate threads, and find that some shatter along the way, and one becomes strangled in the grasp of another. They would see a truly epic tale, but feel copious amounts of pity for those involved.

Every being has a story, whether their thread be hard-bound by fate, or free to flow and drift as they please.

Every story was an ending, be it a happily-ever-after, or a deep well of pain.

Twelve threads are cursed to their fate.

However.

Their story has yet to be written.

Chapter One - Snowfall

There lived in the wilds of Gran Pulse, a great silver wolf. From his paws to his ears, he stood at about the size of an average human, making him much taller and heavier than the rest of his kind. He was vicious let logical, something one need only look into his ocean eyes to understand.

However, no human ever got that close. All they ever saw was a glimpse of his tail, a flash of white as he sprinted past, or the remains of his last meal. One man spun a tale of the beast attacking him and his flock of sheep, but since all the animals were accounted for and he had not an injury to show, no one believed him.

The superstitious believed the wolf to be a ghost, some kind of spirit, perhaps a guardian of some sort. The realists didn't think the animal actually existed, otherworldly or otherwise. Those who bothered to argue their point said it was merely a figment, a mirage, nothing more.

The silver wolf was mostly unaware of what the humans called him, and he didn't care. The name his mother had given him was Hope, that was the only name that mattered to him, though he hadn't gone by it in years. He hadn't gone by anything.

He breathed in a lungful of the frigid air attempting to get past his thick fur, and noted that it would soon snow. The frequency of his meals would be decreasing rapidly.

Another whiff located potential food. Small, but everything was small to him. Ahead. Unaware.

His massive paws made nary a sound as he followed the scent. Another reason some thought him a ghost; he had mastered silence.

He crept up on his prey, perhaps the size of a fox. He slipped noiselessly between the foliage, and prepared himself. The animal wouldn't feel a thing.

His ears pricked as someone less careful rustled some leaves. His eyes remained locked on his prey, but his ears listened, and his nose sniffed.

Another wolf. Female.

Oh, no.

It took a few more silent steps before he saw her. Just as he'd thought. She had sandy fur, and excited blue eyes. Less than half his size, she was small, even for a normal wolf. This wasn't the first time she'd happened upon his hunt. In fact, he'd begun to think she was following him. She didn't seem to belong to a pack, at least.

That was when she saw him. Though if his theory was correct, that's what she wanted it to look like. Her eyes said:

"This one's mine, old man."

He was half-tempted to bark and scare off the potential meat, but that would be signing up for whatever game she thought they were playing. Instead, he made like he was going to pounce.

She shot out of her hiding place with pup-like grace. She wasted time stumbling over nothing, and her prize scrambled away.

Sloppy.

Still, she chased.

He watched her until she was no longer in range of any of his senses. He gave a huff in her general direction, and tasted the air one more time. He picked up on nothing but birds and rodents, not worth worrying about.

A ray of sunlight fell into his eye, and he instinctively jerked away. He shook his head to reorient his sight, stepping forward as he did so. Heat built up in his nose, and he sneezed. He stomped his front left paw- the solitary black patch of fur on his body - before shaking his head again.

The position of the sun was just beginning to paint the sky with the warm colors of dusk. The great wolf took note of this, and began his journey.

On the whole of the planet, there was but one man who had seen more than a fleeting glimpse of the wolf. In fact, this man often had conversations with the beast, one-sided though they may have been.

The man also knew that the silver animal had not always been so, but a silver-haired boy.

It had been thirteen years since his untimely transformation. Or - as his friends and family thought - his death. Only the man knew what really happened to him. The wolf wasn't quite sure how, but the man had more than once shown mystical abilities, so he didn't question it.

The wolf always made sure to keep no more than a few hours away from his human "friend". He pumped his powerful legs into a sprint, flattening his ears. When he was young, he dared never run anywhere aside from an open field, dared never willingly dull his hearing. But he wasn't afraid anymore. He hadn't met anything that posed a threat to him in the radius he allowed himself to wander. He himself was the only threat.

The sun continued it's decent as he flew through the landscape. He raced the colors dripping across the sky, finding excitement in his speed and freedom in the wind. He knew he'd never miss his pathetic human legs, capable of only a fraction of what he could do now.

He didn't slow until he caught the scent of several humans in the air. He panted as his body tried to compensate for the sudden excess of oxygen, he pricked up his ears again and made a beeline for the most separated structure, a path he'd taken countless times before.

The closer he got, the more sparse cover became. He hugged the treeline as best he could, but eventually had to break free from it's protection.

His human acquaintance lived in a village that hadn't quite moved from the label "primitive". The homes teetered somewhere between huts and cabins. It wasn't large enough to bother with roads, but well-worn dirt paths had been beaten by their fragile feet. They hunted as everyone else, but used much more short-range weapons.

They also didn't care for wolves.

He never came during the day, to reduce the risk of being spotted. The man had warned him many times that he would be hunted if seen, because such a large wolf would be immediately pegged as a danger.

So he wasn't seen.

As he approached, something small and cold landed on his nose. He glanced up and saw that the snow clouds had caught up with the village. He paused for a minute or so, during which time the snowfall became visible without concentration. He predicted several inches by the next morning.

Flickering firelight came through the window of the man's house, glinting off of the falling snowflakes. The wolf walked up to the window, and saw one more person than he was expecting.

Intrigued, he went to the door and thumped his blackened paw against it, scratching with his claws on the way down. He may have been an animal, but he still retained his human manners.

The man's deep voice could be heard from inside. The wolf sat back on his haunches and patiently waited for the door to be opened.

He didn't have to wait very long.

"Ah, welcome."

10 pointless points to anyone who can figure out who the she-wolf represents.

I now subject myself to your criticism. I must request that any straight-up hate be kept out of the reviews, but constructive criticism is totally appreciated. If you hate this, just walk away.

More positively, the next chapter is already underway, and I hope you want to continue reading! :)