(2022/12/2) Author's Note: Hey everyone!

I've been busy finishing school and work, so I haven't been able to update as much as I would like. This chapter was drafted about a month ago but wasn't ready until now because I had to run some edits (and running Grammarly over this fic series' early chapters really takes up a lot of time). Next chapter is a Sasuke POV and should be out by New Years... maybe (we'll see if I can manage the time). This chapter is not any particular POV, but mainly follows Nomasaki's trek through the wilderness. I hope you enjoy!

As always, thank you for reading xx


Chapter 20
On the Mountain


She did not wake him as she left.

It was hardly dawn. Without a sound, Nomasaki slid off the bed and dressed in all the clothes she may need. She chose woollen smallclothes in case the winds grew dire, pulled a pair of black wool pants up to her hips and donned fur-lined boots. She pulled a mesh shirt down over her head, its material thin enough for movement yet thick enough to stop a blade. She hoped it would be an uneventful hunt, but she learned she could never be too cautious. Her kimono was blue, her favourite colour, and embroidered with white along its trim and sleeves. It was slit along the sides so she could run quickly should the need arise. Fastening her fur cloak over her shoulders, Nomasaki adjusted the topknot of her hair as she let the rest flow down her back. She examined herself in the mirror for a final time, eyeing the dark circles that took hold.

She saw the fear, the emptiness, the sorrow, and the anger.

She hoped she would return a stronger kunoichi worthy of the name Yamamori.

One worthy of destroying Tenbu.

Nomasaki started for the door but hesitated. Looking back, Gaara was asleep in their bed of scattered furs. Her heart broke to leave him after their night of lust and temptations. But she had to do this, and time was calling her. It was inevitable for them to spend time apart in their marriage, she convinced herself. Gaara was the Kazekage, and sooner or later, he would be called away for an S-rank mission requiring him to be gone for weeks – or even months. She felt guilty she would be the one pulling the trigger first.

Nomasaki bit her lip and swallowed any words she wanted to say.

Looking away, she closed the door gently as she stepped out into the corridor.

There was no turning back.

Sayuri was asleep by Kyōkurō's crib in the nursery when Nomasaki arrived to say goodbye. Both were sleeping soundly, and she did not want to disturb such peace. Her son was dreaming sweetly, his face rosy and cuddled amongst the furs.

She ran her fingers through his feathery red hair and whispered, "I'll be back soon… I promise."

And so, she left them as well.

The coals from the pyre were still simmering when Nomasaki walked past them on her way to the forest. A faint sliver of dawn began to crack through the expanse of clouds on the horizon, and the streets were silent as a crypt. The snow that fell overnight appeared immaculate, with no blemishes or imperfections. It was as if Yamagakure was still sleeping.

She could sense Sana's chakra as she ascended the winding wooded path. It seemed that Sana took her duties seriously, as when she met her student before the forested arch, Sana brought what was asked of her. They met in haste before the ceremony last night, but the she-bear was able to complete her task. Sana's green eyes lit up when she saw Nomasaki coming over the snow-covered hill.

"Nomasaki-senpai!" She shouted. "All is ready for your hunt."

Nomasaki looked to the snows by her fur-lined boots and saw a finely crafted katana locked in its sheath, an ebony bow with hemp bowstring, and a quiver full of arrows. It was all she requested and all that she needed. Just as when she was a girl, she had no need for food or water, for the forest was to sustain her during her test. And now she was testing herself anew as a wolf grown.

Nomasaki nodded and gave a small smile. "Thanks, Sana."

When reaching for the blade first, she hesitated.

Flashes of blood from that day in the Sand Pits swirled before her eyes, and her stomach churned in reflex. She forced herself to swallow the anxiety, grabbed the blade by the scabbard and secured it to her back. After slinging the bow over her shoulder, she took in the mountain air and turned to the peak behind her. The snowy skies near obscured it, the forest sprawling its way to its distant plateau. The winds blew past, her stray strands of gold caressing her cheeks.

And a distant howl sounded.

Her heart beat hard and fast in her chest, longing and afraid.

She swore she felt her blood boil.

No turning back, she thought, The hunt has begun.

"Sana," She said, looking at her. "It's time."

Sana nodded and readied herself. "Got it!"

Forging ahead, Nomasaki took her first steps toward the forest of tall pines and red-barked birch. Darkness was all that lay under their canopies and within it all the essence of the wilds. The snow crunched under her boots, and her breaths turned to vapour as she could feel her heart beat faster and her blood simmer and boil in her veins.

The beast within her was being called, and she was heeding it.

She entered the forest for the first time as a child, and Hanone was with her back then to show her the ways of survival. But now the great white wolf was gone, and Nomasaki once again entered the forest as an adult who needed to relearn her past.

It was bitter work, but it had to be done.

And she passed under the shadows of the towering, frosted trees.

Sana took her position before the arching trees where Nomasaki entered, forming hand-signs as she gathered her strength. "Secret Art! Two-Pronged Barrier!"

A thin sheen of ghostly light coated the entranceway, forbidding entry to all who dared to follow the she-wolf of Yama. Nomasaki did not look back as she stepped further into the darkness, no matter how desperately she wanted to see the village for a final time. Sana did her duties well – and she eagerly awaited for her sensei to return.

She eyed the shadows that soon swallowed Nomasaki, her green eyes firm with pride.

Good luck, Nomasaki-senpai.

And Nomasaki was within the darkness of shadows.


The forest was a dangerous and untamed place.

It was a labyrinth of ice and snow, stretching up the vast mountainside to the very peak. Nomasaki treaded with strong steps through the deep snow, taking in the cold air as she neared the heart of the wilds. She could smell the lush scent of pine, hear the babbling streams that swam through and under snow, and sense the life essence of the animals that called the forest their home. This was her home now, and she had to depend on it to survive the thirty days she promised herself.

She did it once before – when Hanone was her guardian.

Hanone.

The mere remembrance of the great beast's name made her heart sink into the depths of her chest. As a girl, the white wolf brought her to the Yamamori shrine and told her she had to survive in the forest for a month to awaken her then-dormant Kekkei Genkai. She had no kunai, no food, and no water. She remembered how blistered her hands were after she fashioned her own blade out of rock and wood and how many times she sliced her fingers tying her first snare to catch the wandering rabbits. It was truly bitter work, but it made her strong enough to survive in the wilds – even without the power of a beast. This time Nomasaki hoped her powers would return, as she was a grown woman who knew how to hunt with her bare hands.

This place was alive – she could feel it in the winds.

As she walked further while scouting for a place to make camp, she only realized how sore she was between her thighs. Every step uphill ached and tore, nearly rendering her unable to go on. The first pull of pain took the breath from her. Biting her lip to quell her curses, she kept on, gripping the trees for relief as she passed them. Last night was her first time being intimate with Gaara since giving birth, but those mushrooms blurred any insecurity or discomfort from the ceremony. She was paying for it now, her thighs aching and bruised. She chalked it up to his impressive girth, as she felt similar pain afterwards on some occasions if they were too rough.

She wanted nothing more but to be in his arms.

Guilt swam inside her again, and she came to regret not saying goodbye.

She was comforted knowing she could still smell Gaara from the stray strands dancing beside her cheeks. She never told him what he smelled like, and she only kept it a secret to herself. Her sense of smell was heightened more so than a mere human, but due to the similarities to dogs, it was a trait she seldom brought up. Chakra was where the 'scent' originated and could be taken as a reflection of strength. Part of her was glad Gaara never inquired, as she did not want to upset him. When they first met, she could smell a strong scent of blood – so much blood. It terrified her back then, she remembered. But if he asked now, she would tell him what he smelled like – the scent of his greenhouse, a fresh summer wind, and newly-worn leather. She almost wanted to turn back and find her way back to their bed before the morning took hold, just to have him hold her close in his arms.

She forged on.

The campsite was a start.

Nomasaki had a mound of fell branches she divided amongst for kindling, firewood, and shelter. It took her a few hours to gather enough for each, but it would have to make do. Between a towering pine and a boulder, she pulled together two giant branches that still clung to their needles into the shape of a tent, securing them with twine she brought from the shuriken holster on her thigh. A stream flowed slowly across from camp, which she could use for water – and to follow for prey. Looking up at the skies, she noticed the white clouds growing darker.

A storm, she realized.

Gathering her bow and quiver, she set forth up the hill and followed the stream.

Nomasaki stood in the clearing and drew the bow. It was heavier than she expected, but it was ebony-crafted – one of Yama's finest smithing works. Her fingers wrapped around it with a tremble but soon stilled as she felt the engravings etched onto its surface. Then, taking her time, she strung her bow with hemp and ensured it was tight enough to loose an arrow that could claim her dinner.

"You hold it like this, strengthen your arm and aim with one eye," She remembered her mother saying. With pristine grace, Mikomi saw her target in sight and took aim. "Then – open!" Mikomi's bow made a thrum as the arrow flew directly into the bullseye.

Nomasaki's arrow missed the tree she aimed at by a few feet.

Dismayed, she tried again.

And again. And again. And again.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

And then – a crack.

She must have loosed nearly all her dozen arrows before she landed a clean hit on the bark. It was off her crudely carved target, but it was a start. Her biceps ached from the pull and release, reminding her how long it had been since she last trained. So much of her hard-earned muscle tone had grown soft from her pregnancy and motherhood, and the lack of combat only made it obvious. Already, she could see her breath turn to icy vapour as it left her lips. She gnashed her fanged teeth, cursing herself.

When the sky darkened, the snow fell and blanketed everything in its wake.

The winds howled, swaying the tall sentinels and pines surrounding her camp. They groaned and heaved, their branches bristling while plumes of white rained down and buried all. In her makeshift tent, she was safe – but the cold finally began to gnaw on her fingers and toes as she huddled in a corner with her cloak. Even with her natural resistance to the cold and frost of winter, she still had her limits as a half-blood. She had to wait out the storm to start a fire unless she wanted to burn down her only shelter. She huddled closer, pulling her knees to her chest. If the old desert gods could hear her – or her old mountain gods – she hoped they would spare her the night.

Of all times for my powers to lay dormant, She thought bitterly, If only I could make the change.

Shutting her eyes tight, she breathed in and out to warm her clutched hands by her lips. She thought of Suna, its hot and merciless summers, and the scorching heat of the desert sands upon her paws. She envisioned herself sprinting across the sands in her wolf-form, its giant shadow cast over the dunes as she thundered across the land, fur swaying in the winds. She missed her cloak of white fur, its warmth and comfort. She missed it all, her soul begging for it to come back to her.

And silently, her blood boiled and stirred.

Heat swam through her veins, but the change did not come to pass. But at least she was warm enough not to freeze to death. With a hungry belly, she fell asleep as the blizzard raged upon her mountain.


The rabbit cooked nicely over her fire the next morning.

At the crack of dawn, Nomasaki set up her snares. She had three hidden within the wood, and she was fortunate even one had been triggered. She left the others but took down the one that claimed her dinner for the day. She decided she might use it someplace else when she moved further up the mountain. Never had she devoured something so fast. She tore the charred flesh from its thin bones and nearly broke them open to suck out the marrow. At last, her hunger and nausea quelled.

But it was only the second day.

Her arrows hit closer to her carved marker, the thrums falling silent on the howling winds from further up the peak. Some arrows pierced the fresh snow at the base of the tree, and a measly three struck the bark. But three was better than none. Nomasaki felt her arm muscles stiffen, so she decided to try again before retiring to the camp.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Thunk.

Four this time.

By the end of the week, she had eaten three rabbits, one ptarmigan, and two ruby-finned trout. The trout was her least favourite, as she disliked fish and all seafood – but the mountain gave her no choice but to hunt what she could. On the other hand, the ptarmigan was plump and fat with dark, tender meat. Nomasaki was not starving, but the meagre meals left her pining for great elk and boar. Her mouth watered at the thought of sinking her jaws into the flesh, and her blood stirred with thoughts of the hunt.

She decided it was time to expand her territory.

The snow was past her knees in some places as she ascended the hill. Towering pines flanked her sides, and she often grabbed them for support to yank herself free. Further on her path, she caught a glimpse of snowberries below the base of an old sentinel of withered needles. She had not tasted anything other than meat in days and propelled herself to get to the bush. The berries were blood red, glimmered of frost under the snowy canopy, and held a wintergreen flavour she could smell upon the winds. She used to eat them with sweets back at her father's manse. Her stomach grumbled.

Seeing the berries beyond the hill where she stood, Nomasaki carefully edged closer. The very breath was taken from her as she felt the ledge collapse at her feet. She tumbled down the slope, rolling until her back fell flat onto the snow-covered ground. A curse passed her lips, and then tears swam in her eyes. Her arm roared with pain, and she held it tightly against her chest as she cursed again and again.

It was only a sprain, but the injury enough could very well have been a death sentence in these lands. Winter was survival of the fittest – and winter made no exceptions for those who could not adapt to its changes and sways. If she missed a hunt, she had no idea when she could hunt again. A blizzard could strike for the rest of the month if her luck was anything to judge by. Carefully, she made a makeshift splint of twigs and twine and rescinded back to her camp – after picking enough snowberries.

For the first time during her solitude, she saw stars in the mountain skies.

It was a clear night with no wind or storm to behold. Another rabbit landed in a snare, and she struggled to light the fire with one good hand. She must have scratched her palm a dozen times trying to spark the flint. But eventually, the flint caught flame, and the fire crackled upon the kindling and logs. Warmth emanated to her crudely bandaged fingers, and the embers danced upon the night air. Nomasaki thought her breath might turn to ice, but she remained warmed from the blood that boiled inside her. If not for that, she might have frozen to death nights ago.

In the stillness of the night, thoughts swam before her violet eyes as they gazed at the crackling flames. Her fear of fire was not a hindrance in the forest, but she feared when she would see it in combat. Her worst fear was of harm coming to her family while she was far off in the northern wilds. She left Kyōkurō in the care of Shijima, and Gaara was undoubtedly worrying about her every moment he lay awake with insomnia. She missed them terribly. And her son – what if he said his first word while she was gone? Or mistook Shijima or Meiyumi for his mother?

Her heart ached from the thought.

A glimmering light upon the snow prompted her to gaze up into the night.

Vivid colours danced, their hues of purple, red, yellow, and green shining against the black as if a curtain in the skies. All around, the snow became a canvas to the colours that sang in the mountain night. Never had Nomasaki seen them so beautiful. The northern lights. She nearly forgot all the thoughts that plagued her in that instant but decided that worrying would be no help. Beside the crackling campfire, she watched the lights dance amongst the stars in peaceful, wondrous silence.

She wished Gaara were there to see it, too.


She fared better in the second week.

Her arrows thrummed, cracked, and near hit the bullseye now. Her arm felt better, too. She could stretch it out and flex it without muttering a curse, and hunting came much more effortless. The game was fruitful, as well, it seemed. She hunted boar and scarcely touched a snare. The beast she took down was almost too heavy to take back to camp, but she managed by placing it on a branch of fell pines and sliding it down the sloped snowy hill. It provided food for three days, and the jerky sat in her holster in case she craved a snack while bushwhacking.

Her second hunt was what she craved – a great elk.

She laid her trap carefully, planning it over the several days since she saw it by the stream one morning. Behind the thicket, she emerged and whistled – and the elk headed straight for the tree line. Her Clone Jutsu dissipated, and she waited for the creature to enter the trees. Just as she suspected, the beast's antlers were tangled in the mess of branches that slung low from the canopy. Her arrow thumped into its neck, and the beast cried out in anguish as it died. It would provide her with new furs and food, and its bones could be carved into tools. She cleaned its impressive rack for her father – and imagined it hung high above his chieftain's seat.

And she felt herself grow a little stronger.


It was the third week that was the darkest.

Isolation proved to be a double-edged blade. The forest hummed in silence as Nomasaki took her bow and quiver through the silhouettes of pines and the winter trees of eerie red bark. Almost too quiet. She was scouting for nearly all morning, and her senses could not detect the prey she sought to hunt. She saw their tracks in a snowy clearing – only hours old. The deer must have passed further up the peak, towards the plateau. She gritted her teeth, ignoring her burning hunger that rumbled beneath her fur cloak as she proceeded towards the tree line.

"A failure. An utter failure… yet, she thinks she can reverse what has already been set in motion."

Nomasaki's heart dropped.

Without thinking, she whipped back towards the voice and aimed her bow. Her hands clasped the ebony near strong enough to crack, her fingernails becoming claws and her jaws full of fangs. That voice, she realized, That vile voice. She eyed for her target, but she could not see them anywhere she looked. Right. Left. Forward. Behind. Rage bubbled inside her throat, provoking a snarl to escape her tight lips.

"The ritual should have killed you… such a waste."

She shot her arrow when she caught a glimpse of him in her periphery.

Standing beside the towering pines, Kenzō eyed her vicious glare with contempt. He looked the same as she last saw him – clothed in black shinobi garbs. There was a bloody slice over his throat where she severed his head a year ago, within that hell of a cave. She saw the wind flutter the sleeve of his missing hand and loosed her arrow. It passed right through him, piercing the snow behind. An apparition, or worse. Nomasaki clasped her bow tighter and prepared another arrow, standing her ground as firmly as she could. Her violet eyes were wide with horror and unbridled anger.

"You're dead," She spat through her fanged jaws. "I killed you!"

"Did you really think you could kill me?" Kenzō glared back. "The frightened girl too scared of her own shadow… you sicken me. I gave you everything. A place to live – to survive, a second chance at existing as a shinobi. A use for those feared powers of yours. You are careless, ignorant, indecisive, and most of all… you are a traitor! Just like your bastard of a father. And a beast, too… like your bitch of a mother."

The arrow went straight between his eyes.

Striking the tree behind him with a loud crack.

"Your aim hasn't yet been mastered," He taunted, seeing the rage seething in her eyes. And he saw something else, too. "Nothing at all has changed since then. Your eyes are still broken, my little broken tool."

"I'm not broken! And I'm not your tool!" Nomasaki shouted. "I was never yours! Never!"

"Ah, but you were. You were my spy, remember? My pretty little spy…" He circled her in the snowy clearing as if a vulture to carrion. A smirk formed on his lips as he saw her refusing to turn her back to him, her hands readying another arrow from her bow. "You, the Kazekage's own trusted assistant, sold him out to me on my command. Without you, we might not have had those Akatsuki fiends visit back then. You cost Gaara his life… and yet, he felt it necessary to spare yours. I wonder if he still thinks of your treachery as he fucks you -,"

"Shut your mouth!" She roared, her fangs erupting from her jaws. "I killed you once, I will kill you again! And this time, you will stay dead!"

Kenzō sighed, amused. "You beast-people love your threats… but you're just as weak as the ordinary man. You still succumbed to my power, my strength. That curse-seal on your tongue proved it. You were caged. Caged like the beast you are, the beast you were destined to be…"

She solidified her stance in the snow, anger rippling in her blood. "Shut up!"

"You have been marked for your failure for life… The seal is gone, but the scars will never heal." He grinned, reaching for her throat. "Nothing can erase the past… no matter how hard you try. Tojiru. Sōhei. Moro. Shinto. You're the reason they're dead. You will always be the broken, treacherous, beast-blooded whore you are. You will die with blood on your hands."

"SHUT UP!"

She went into a blind rage.

Over and over again, she loosed as many arrows as her quiver could provide. Aim, loose, aim, loose, aim loose. She swore in her mind the thrum of her bowstring echoed with the sounds of that whip cracking her back. She remembered the tears that swam down her hot cheeks as it happened, as she was held down by two of her subordinates as her comrade was forced to lash her. Fire blistered onto her bare back in her memories, marking her for life. Arrows peppered the white snow, striking the bark of trees and disappearing into the darkened wood wherever they may have landed. Her roar thundered through the forest, echoing off the very peak itself and drawing the world to a standstill of silence.

And she loosed her final arrow.

Panting, she looked to where Kenzō stood to find no one there. All that remained were the arrows she let fly from her bow. Beside herself, she scanned the vicinity frantically but found no sign of the disgraced councillor in her midst. He was gone. He was never there to begin with. Surrounding the clearing, the red-barked winter trees swayed with the pines against the rising frigid winds. As Nomasaki felt the nature energy that swam in the air, the bow fell from her hands to the snow. She collapsed to her knees, cursing and sobbing into her shaking hands.

The forest made her remember.

And she would not forget.


The fourth and final week.

Her camp was near ready to abandon, and she felt a part of her grieve for the time she spent in the wilds. On the other hand, she felt her arms and limbs grow stronger, her core tighter, and her strength nearly back to where it was before she was taken to that blackened cave in the Land of Claws many moons ago. She broke her fast on deer jerky she had made a few nights before and started her journey to the plateau. She wanted to see it – at least once before she had to return to civilization. The air was so crisp that morning Nomasaki swore the frost bit her cheeks as she ascended the slope. Hearing a babbling brook within the thicket, she slid down the ledge, cupped the water with her hands, and drank. It was freezing, but the mountain water was exhilarating. Some even said it was blessed by the gods. Nomasaki did not think much of it and drank to quench her thirst from her hike.

A presence snapped her senses.

Seizing, Nomasaki took her stance and remained quiet. Within earshot, she heard the grumbling of a cave bear. She swore her heart skipped a beat in her chest. Of all things, she thought. Her Kekkei Genkai was stirring from its slumber, but she could not feel her blood shift to make the change. Damn it. The bear sniffed about, then released a roar. Before she could devise a plan to back away slowly, the giant creature thundered towards her.

She had to be quick – think fast, and survive.

The bear stood on its hind legs, eclipsing her in its shadow as it swung its claws. Nomasaki tumbled underneath a fallen tree's exposed roots, narrowly avoiding its strike. It must have smelt the wolfish scent that clung to her skin – drawing it out. No doubt it had a den with cubs nearby. She cursed under her breath, pushing herself farther until she felt the cold hard trunk at her cloaked back.

The bear reared back again, striking the roots.

Bits of the dead tree flew, and Nomasaki dashed away from the chaos. The bear saw her run, and it bolted after her. Dashing past the snow and white branches, she reached a wide clearing – a frozen lake. The bow weighed her down more than she realized, and she was near out of breath from her hasty sprint. Growling, the bear emerged from the forest and met her in the middle. It stood on its hind legs again, roaring a monstrous bellow of fanged jaws. Nomasaki saw no use in running further, so she readied her stance and roared back. She imagined she was as large as the bear, meeting its animalistic gaze of fury and spreading her arms out wide. If she was not rivalling its stature, she could at least pretend. Her roar was beast-like, tinged with a howl – and loud enough to raise the fur of her opponent. The bear must have known she was no ordinary human.

And the bear lunged first.

Nomasaki caught its giant paws with her hands, tightly clasped, and pushed back. The bear snapped its jaws, but she gave it no room to bite. Gnashing her teeth, she felt them grow long and fanged in her jaws as she felt her blood boil and simmer. Her strength erupted, allowing her to hold her own against the giant cave bear – holding it back on the ice. In a burst of force, she snarled and pushed the beast away.

The beast rose again.

Acting fast, she drew her blade and pierced the ice between them. With the twist of her katana, the lake suddenly shifted at their feet. The mountain sun glimmered on its steel as she pulled it free and sprinted to the snowy shore. She slid and fell into the snowbank, but when she turned, the bear was watching her closely from the other side. It refused to move. Panting, she put her katana back in its sheath and stared back at it. The anger was gone from the creature's black eyes, and once it saw Nomasaki's air of calm, it slowly turned around and walked back toward the forest.

Vapour danced from her lips as she saw it leave.

She had to figure out a different way back to her camp.

The plateau was a serene land of silver, just as she remembered.

Nomasaki wanted to take it in for a few hours before the skies turned dark – and she could sense a storm was approaching on the winds. Snowberries were plentiful, so she ate what she could before scouting the area for a new path back to camp. As she washed her hands in a stream, she sensed a chakra in her periphery. Not thinking much of it, she stood and started for the forest on her side of the lake.

Her fur-lined boots crunched on the snow as she descended the slope with watchful precision. She kept one hand on the hilt of her katana, her heart beating fast in her chest. She let out a breath, watching the vapour escape into the winds that blew the stray strands of gold against her rosy cheeks. Once inside the forest and beneath its snowy canopy, she paused.

A rustle.

"Are you here to kill me?" Nomasaki spoke. Footsteps crunched behind. Her grip on her blade tightened. "Silence is a virtue. But tell me with your own words… did Tenbu send you?"

Silence.

But the sound of unsheathed steel echoed between the trees.

"Very well…" She closed her eyes, calculating. "If you wish to kill me, come and claim me!"

She swung her blade behind herself, and the shinobi clashed on the field of snow.

The eerie ring of steel filled the chilled air.

Her opponent was a man clothed in black garbs with a turban covering his face. All she could see was the hatred in his eyes. But just from the grip of his blade against her own, she could feel his skill ad experience. Tenbu found her – and she was alone and far from help. Her blood simmered, but her skin refused to shift, leaving her only human. They knew she was powerless – they knew. It was their time to strike, to kill and erase the Wolf of the Desert.

She pushed back his blade and advanced with a slice.

Swift as the wind, the assassin dodged. They formed their hands together, making a jutsu. Before Nomasaki could realize what jutsu it was, she saw flames burst forth and surround them – leaving her no room to escape. Sweat beaded her forehead, fear rising in her chest. Even her breathing grew shaky, her dormant fear of flames triggered.

And they appeared directly in front of her – blade in hand.

Nomasaki moved as far as she could, but the blade pierced her thigh. A shriek escaped her lips, but she gnashed her fanged teeth and grabbed the hilt over his hand – pulling the blade out and kicking him away. Blood sprayed from her wound, but she fought the pain with her will to survive the battle. She could hardly stand. Nomasaki fell to one knee, clasping the wound tight to stop the bleeding. It felt as if a hot white fire was pierced into her flesh.

But the assassin was behind her, waiting.

She put her palm onto the snow, and her heart raced in panic. I'm sorry, Gaara, she thought, I shouldn't have been so reckless… I should've let Shijima stay. I don't think I can do this on my own. Gaara – if only he were there to help. His sand. Nomasaki's eyes went wide.

And her mind raced to an idea.

She felt the cold bleed into her palm, the frozen particles seeping into her skin. She closed her eyes and imagined it coating her in its cold aura. A shell – a protective shell. Like Gaara's sand. Her chakra pulsed, flowing power over her body. Once the assassin was close enough, she would release. Her senses could find their footsteps. One, two, and – three.

Now!

She whipped around, a burst of snow and ice engulfing the flames and extinguishing them. The flames hissed as they died, a haze of steam concealing their silhouettes from one another. But Nomasaki could sense them – and they were close. Her wound throbbed, and her next planned strike faltered. The assassin leapt forth with their blade drawn, aiming for her back.

A low grumble thundered.

The bear, Nomasaki realized. And the creature lunged at the assassin, swiping at their garbs and tearing at their flesh. Then, with a single swipe, the bear knocked away one of its arms. Its arms. Nomasaki's gaze widened. No wonder I can't see their chakra very well, it's a puppet. Just like the one that attacked the village.

With a single hit to the snout, the bear roared and retreated for the woods.

And now they were alone.

Sword in hand, the assassin walked towards her. Snow crunched under their heavy boots, each one breaking the deathly silence of the mountain air. Nomasaki bit her lip enough that the bitter taste of iron leaked onto her tongue. She could sense the target – imagining it like the bullseye on her practice tree. Focus – she just had to focus.

The assassin raised their blade. "Begone, and turn to ash!"

Nomasaki summoned her power, her chakra flowing freely under her skin. Moments before the blade could touch her flesh, spikes of hardened ice sprouted all over her crouched body. It was as if a shield of ice and frost was protecting her – like Gaara's sand. A spike pierced through the assassin's forehead, while another pierced through their chest. The sealing tags on the puppet were nullified, and the wooden body collapsed to the snow with a crack and splinter.

And it was over.

Breathing easily, the ice shield slowly shrank until it melted from her body. The secret art of all Yamagakure shinobi was manipulating the snow and ice to the user's benefit. Unlike the extinct Yuki clan of the Land of Water, Yama-nin could only shape the element if present in their surroundings. Only those who have mastered chakra control could hope to wield such power. Nomasaki was lucky she was in the lands of snow and not sand – or the battle would have ended much differently.

She stood, the pain absent. Then, glancing over to the remains, she glared at its gaping mouth of wooden teeth and snarled. "Coward." It's just a puppet, she confirmed, Like that day when they attacked.

A sudden pain coursed through her, rendering her to her knees. Her leg was split open when she looked, and the blood was seeping into the snow. The pain had faded then, but now it roared back to make her suffer. It was her worst injury since the cave. A shudder passed through her, and her mind grew foggy.

Did… Did they use poison? She cursed under her breath. I was being careless…

Fighting through the pain, she rested her back against a tree and lit a small fire on the twigs and branches littered upon the forest floor with the last flint she carried. Her forehead was slick with sweat, the straying gold strands sticking to her face as she breathed laboured breaths. Once the fire was hot enough, she took out a kunai from her holster and laid it over the flames that grew. She bit her lip as she reached for the weapon.

"Gods save me…" She breathed.

The kunai steamed as it made contact with her open flesh.

It took everything in Nomasaki not to scream. She had never catharized a wound for herself but saw it enough in practice to know one does not simply suffer in silence. Tears swelled in her shut eyes, and she bit her lip tighter. She could taste the bitter iron on her lips, filling her senses. Her flesh hissed as she moved the blade's surface down over her wound. Her fanged jaws released a cry of agony, near loud enough to wake a sleeping giant. Her hand upon the kunai trembled and shook, and her mind grew hazy with delirium.

But soon enough, it was sealed.

She took out the bandage wrappings from her pack and used them to cover her injury. Finished, she sighed and weakly laid her head back against the tree. When she looked up with a weakened glance, she could see the faint fragments of light shining through the frosted canopy. It was so beautiful and peaceful. And only then did she realize it might be the last thing she would ever see.

A bittersweet grin formed on her weakened lips of blood.

"At least I'm where… I belong… This place is the ancient homeland of the wolves… Mother said the… souls of the departed guard those who enter through the trees… Well, you failed me today… this bastard got through… but I did it… I won the hunt," She felt her breath grow faint. "It's funny… how at this moment near death… I feel… at peace… Strange, isn't it?"

Tears flowed from her blank eyes.

I'm not ready to die. I have so much left to do… I want to live – with Gaara and our son… and live free. They ran down her bloody cheeks, trickling onto her bandaged leg. I don't want to abandon them… if you old mountain gods exist, spare me this suffering… please!

The veil of darkness soon came upon her, her eyes growing heavy with sleep.

And her eyes closed, her body limp.

She dreamt of the mountains again, the realm of white calling her home. Snow fell gently from the white skies above, and the northern lights danced above the peak in colours more vibrant than she last remembered. And the wolf statue beckoned her as a lone howl sounded on the winds.

And then it was silenced.