Author's Notes: This song is the intro song from the Japanese version.

Chapter 6: Lost

Chirin, the soft ringing of your bell
Reminded me of my mother's eyes.
Your bell has been ringing,
But now it is gone.

Chirin, the soft ringing of your bell
Reminded me of someone's quiet crying,
Lonely and desperate,
Like the sorrows of the whole world.

Chirin, where are you now?
How far are you?
How many winters?
How many years have passed since then?

Chirin, where have you vanished?
Where is the silvery ringing of your bell?
Nobody has ever
Heard it again.

Without hesitation Chirin jumped the fence and landed in the pasture, his eyes on the shed. Slowly he advanced toward it, waiting for the attack.

The wolf sat upon the slope where Chirin had left him and watched, his blue eyes gleaming in the night.

There! Chirin heard the dogs charging, barking their threats. He turned as the first one leapt at him, and with a mighty thrust of his head he pushed his horns into its soft belly and tossed it behind him. The next dog leapt upon his back and bit into his withers, but Chirin bucked him off in time to turn around and kick another dog that was leaping at him, striking him dead.

The sheep gathered at the door and stared as this mighty beast fought dog after dog, and dog upon dog fell. One landed close to the door, making all of them tremble in terror.

The lightning flashed again as another dog leapt upon Chirin, and again he dispatched it and kicked down another one, tossing one across the field and sending another to hang upon the fence. The wolf, who had been creeping quietly toward the pasture so as not to disturb the fight, stood on the other side of the fence and watched with cold eyes as the dog's limp body slithered off the fence and onto the ground.

Still more dogs came. Chirin stabbed one with his horns and kicked another down that had jumped up behind him. One charged him, but Chirin met his charge head down, and his horns punctured the dog's brain. Another leapt at him, but Chirin brought up his head and stabbed the dog in the belly before thrusting him off behind him.

The dog's limp body sailed through the air and ended up in the open shed, landing in the doorway. The sheep gasped in horror and scrambled to the back of the shed, trying to stay as far away from the danger as possible, scrambling one on top of another.

That was the last dog. Chirin turned and stared at the open doorway of the shed, his eyes narrowed, ready to kill.

He stopped just inside the door and stared at the sheep unblinkingly. They were all huddled in the back, trembling like the weakling cowards they were. One of them even gulped.

Chirin was disgusted. These sheep had never done anything with themselves but sit around in the pasture and act helpless and pitiful. They never strove to make themselves strong. And for that, they deserved their fate.

But one lamb hadn't climbed in the back with the others, and his cry alerted Chirin. "Mama!" the lamb cried. "Mama! I'm scared, Mama!"

This, Chirin decided, could be his first victim. He turned toward the little, helpless lamb, his horns pointed out in front of him.

A mother ewe struggled to get back to her son. "Oh, no!" she cried. "My baby!" Before Chirin could move, she leapt at her lamb, crying, "No!"

Chirin stared down at the mother lamb as she covered her baby, sacrificing herself to keep him from harm, trembling in fright. His eyes narrowed as he prepared to make the kill. The trembling ewe lowered her head, making sure her lamb was completely safe, and waited for the inevitable.

But Chirin didn't see this mother and lamb. He saw another mother ewe, one whose voice was soft and her words always loving and kind. She, too, had thrown herself over her lamb to protect him . . . a lamb with a golden bell around his neck.

Chirin shook his head, making his bell ring. "No!" he gasped. She . . . she was like his mother!

Chirin backed away. "I can't," he said. Emotions were flooding him, emotions he had not felt in a long time . . . including horror. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his legs felt weak. He had to get out of there. "I can't!" he cried, turning and fleeing from the shed.

Once outside, he stopped and panted, trying to catch his breath. Memories and emotions were swarming him in torrents. "I can't!" he gasped again. "I can't!" He had to get away! He started to walk off, determined to leave this place and never harm these sheep again.

"Where do you think you're going, Chirin?"

Chirin froze in mid-step and raised his head. The wolf was standing right in front of him, glaring.

Chirin shook his head. "I can't do it," he confessed.

"It looks like you are too weak-hearted to do it," the wolf told him harshly. "I knew you wouldn't be able to do it." He started advancing toward the shed. "This is the last thing I'll teach you. Let me show you how to kill sheep. Killing sheep is something even a weakling can do!"

Chirin watched in horror as the wolf walked past him. He was going to kill the sheep! But . . . but . . .

Heart pounding for fear of his kin, Chirin ran in front of the wolf, blocking his path with his head lowered. "No!" he cried. "Stop!" But the wolf kept coming, forcing Chirin to back up. "No!" Chirin cried again, shaking his head. "You're not going in there!"

But the wolf kept coming.

"No," Chirin repeated quietly, pleading. But the wolf paid him no heed.

Then Chirin felt his rear hit the shed. The wolf had backed him against it. Any moment now, he would walk by and enter the shed to kill the sheep . . . the sheep whom Chirin had once lived and played with.

Something in Chirin broke, something he had not felt for a long time. Desperate to save the others from the wolf, he shook his head savagely, making his bell ring like a desperate cry. "No!" he cried again. "Stop! You can't go!"

The next thing he knew, he charged. "Wolf!" he cried, half demandingly, half pleadingly, as he slammed himself into the wolf. With his horns, he lifted the wolf into the air and sent him flying a few yards back, careful not to stab him as he did.

The wolf flipped and landed on his feet in a catlike manner, completely unharmed. Looking irritated, he turned and faced Chirin. "Have you gone mad, pipsqueak?" he yelled angrily.

Gone mad? Gone mad? The wolf was trying to kill the sheep, his sheep, his kin, his family!

Chirin charged the wolf again, and the wolf leapt skillfully out of the way. Chirin ended up hitting the fence, breaking both rails. But no sooner had he done that when he spun around, rage burning in him. Memory upon memory and emotion upon emotion were building in him. He remembered now! The sheep were his family, the wolf his enemy, not the other way around!

"I was one of them!" he cried as he charged again. "I am a ram!"

The wolf leapt out of the way again, and Chirin ran into the shed. His horns, sweeping and looking for something to stab, struck the ground just inside the doorway, where they remained stuck. Chirin pulled with all his might until he wrenched his horns free, feeling no pain. All he felt was a fury and rage as he remembered his mother in this very shed. He spun around and charged again, shaking his head in fury, his horns flashing in the light of the lightning. "You're the wolf who killed my mother!" he cried. "This is for her!"

The next thing, Chirin knew, he felt his head pressed against the soft fur of the wolf's chest. The wolf was pushed up over Chirin so that his paws rested on the ram's withers.

The tips of Chirin's horns were stuck deep into the wolf's belly.

Slowly the rage seeped out of Chirin as he realized what he had done, listening to the wolf's labored breathing.

The wolf's head fell upon Chirin's withers. "Well done, Chirin," he said, his voice sounding strained with pain. "You have learned well. Each wolf's life is destined to end like this." He gasped but kept talking. "I knew my time would come, and I would die fighting someone stronger." He cringed, and Chirin could feel the last of his strength leaving him. "But I'm glad," he gasped, "that the one who killed me was you, Chirin. I'm very . . . proud of you . . ."

At last it was too much. The wolf's strength gave out. He slid off Chirin's shoulders and horns and fell at his feet, dead.

Chirin stared down at the wolf as the rain began to wash the blood away. Raindrops mingled with the tears that ran down his snout. "No," he gasped. "No, I did not want it this way, Wolf."

Though this had been his goal for his whole life, he felt the strongest feeling of regret. The wolf had done everything for him, had been his father. What kind of son killed his own father?

But . . . but wasn't it a good thing for his kind? The wolf would no longer bother the sheep. Chirin raised his head and stared at the shed, wondering how he could begin to explain himself.

The sheep stared out at him with wide eyes. One of them gulped.

The little lamb who had been saved by his mother stepped out of the shed. He did not seem afraid, only fascinated with this strange creature who had been their savior. "Who are you?" he asked, walking up to Chirin. "Are you a wolf?"

Chirin didn't know how to answer that. Was he was a wolf? He didn't know anymore.

But before he could think up a response, the lamb's mother grabbed him by the scruff and carried him hurriedly back to the shed.

Chirin took a step forward. Were the sheep . . . running away from him? "But wait!" he cried.

The sheep backed away from the doorway of the shed and slammed the door shut.

Chirin gasped. Even with the storm raging outside, they weren't going to let him in!

He lowered his head in shame as he saw the scared looks on their faces through the cracks in the wooden door. Of course they wouldn't let him in. All they had seen of him was the way he killed.

Chirin tried to tell the frightened sheep that he had once lived with them in the meadow. Like so many years ago, Chirin was still wearing the same golden bell around his neck. But nobody believed he was the same Chirin with whom they had played with in the meadow. The creature they saw before them was not one of their kind. It was neither a wolf nor a ram standing in front of the shed but some unknown terrible creature which caused only fear and terror.

The rain had stopped by the time Chirin gave up. The sheep were not going to let him in, not give him a chance to tell his story. They just wanted him to leave.

So Chirin did leave. He turned and walked out the hole in the fence his own horns had made. He wouldn't find a home again with the sheep of his childhood.

And without the wolf, Chirin realized he had no home at all.

Not knowing what else to do, Chirin headed back toward the mountain where he and the wolf had lived together.

Chirin had kept going until he had at last reached the small waterhole he and the wolf had shared for years now. He felt sad and confused and stared at the water, trying to think and clear his mind all at once. The sorrow in his heart was sharp and more tangible than it had ever been before. Chirin felt as if he could taste it in his mouth.

Chirin stared down at the water, gazing at his reflection. Was he a wolf, as the lamb had asked? Or was a he a sheep, a ram? He didn't know anymore. The creature he saw in the waters was neither one nor the other. It was simply a powerful beast, one who could kill with a mere flick of its head. He had become a killer, the very beast he had wished to destroy.

So many years ago, this had been all he wanted. This had been his goal. He could remember so clearly the warning the wolf had given him that day three years ago: It won't be easy, pipsqueak. Do you understand, Chirin? The world I live in is a hell where death follows you in your footsteps. You'll need stamina, determination, and the will to survive. Are you ready for such a life?

He recalled his training sessions with the wolf, where he would come to this very pool of water to revive himself and wash his wounds. The training was everything the wolf warned him it would be, and at times he thought he would die. But he had striven through it all, because this is want he wished for. He remembered he had said so with his own mouth: I don't care how much it takes. It doesn't matter anymore whether I have to live in Hell. My life means nothing to me now. This is what I want to do. I know I can! You'll see! I'll become stronger than a wolf! Wolf, someday I will become even stronger than you and defeat you! Then I will have my revenge on you! Someday, I kill you!

I will! Someday, I will kill you!

And so it came to pass, just as he had hoped, just as he had wished so long ago.

But now Chirin realized he didn't want that anymore.

The wolf had given him guidance and purpose. He had directed him throughout most of his life. And now . . .

A drop of water fell into the pool, making ripples in the water. When they had cleared, Chirin gasped, shaking his head in surprise and making his bell ring. "Wolf!" he gasped. The wolf's reflection was sitting next to his!

Chirin turned at once, a smile upon his face. "Wolf?" he said hopefully.

But there was no one there.

Chirin felt his smile fade, taking a step away from the pool and looking around vainly. "Wolf?" He had to be there . . .

But no. Chirin had only been seeing what he wanted to see.

That spark of hope died with another wave of grief. "Wolf!" he cried in despair, his voice ringing throughout the mountains.

He admitted then what he knew all along: the wolf would never come back.

Snow began to fall as the bell let out one last mournful ding as Chirin let his head drop. "Wolf," he said quietly, "you accepted me. For me, you were a paragon of what it means to be a wolf and how to be strong. You taught me how to live like you did. Forgive me, Wolf. I wasn't able to become a wolf, and because of that, I was the one who caused your death." He started to tremble. "But I'm still alive! And now, when you're dead, what should I do? Where do I go now?"

Another wave of sorrow, guilt, and loss swept over him, and Chirin raised his head and yelled again. "Wolf!"

Nothing answered but his own echo.

"Wolf!"

But the wolf would never lead him again. Chirin was alone . . . utterly alone. Without direction, without purpose, without a home or family. Lost.