Tanza
The weeks stretched into months, and the brief, endless daylight of the polar summer completely vanished from the bottom of the world.
Around six months had passed since Tanza and Master Kelsang had finished their long journey from the Western Air Temple. Wolf Cove was no longer a strange, icy adjustment, if anything, it was like a second temporary home to Tanza as she trained in her airbending, her forms and periodic playtime with the girls.
Over a half-year of bitter cold, Tanza's six-year-old body had grown leaner and stronger, her muscles fully adapting to the heavy, rooted stances of the South. Her secret nighttime lessons with old granny Kusede had heavily borne fruit, turning her clumsy drafts into fluid, circular currents of air that perfectly followed the natural physics of water.
Now, the calendar had finally turned to the Winter Solstice—the deepest, darkest day of the polar year.
Even without a rising sun to mark the morning, the entire village was alive with activity. Tanza stood along the high ice pathways, wrapped tightly in her snow leopard caribou parka, watching the community scramble to prepare for the long night ahead. She wanted to relax without constantly using her airbending to warm her up, and the parka gave her the warmth in substitute of her warm air she could conjure up.
Though she did have to sometimes use a brief warm wind every now and then to melt the frost off her face and hair, that was about it.
And as a matter of fact, this had been her first time ever to experience living at the south pole of a planet, much less a north pole. It took some time getting used to the constant day light, now she would be experiencing total darkness for the other half half of the planet's orbit of the sun.
Meanwhile, the air was filled with the rhythmic, low thump-thump of caribou-hide hand drums echoing from the main village square. The steady beat helped the workers keep time as they hurried through their final chores.
Down at the shoreline, the hunters and whale-fishers were finally coming back home. Tanza watched them haul their light wooden catamarans completely out of the water, dragging them up onto the safety of the dark volcanic rocks to protect the skin frames from the crushing midnight ice. They shouted to one another over the rising wind, their faces crusted with frost, carrying the last heavy baskets of silver-fin fish up the slopes.
Everywhere she looked, families were retreating indoors. Mothers called out to their children, ushering them into the massive, multi-tiered communal ice halls. Up on the higher ledges, the clattering clink of whale-tooth chimes rattled frantically against the igloo walls as the polar wind picked up speed. The sky above was already turning a deep, velvety black, signaling that the great solstice blizzard was about to hit.
Tanza followed the crowd, stepping into the massive communal dome just as the heavy hide doors were sealed tight against the storm. The vast space was beautifully illuminated. Lanterns hung from the ceiling arches, glowing with the warm, amber light of burning seal oil. The entire tribe had gathered inside to escape the freezing dark, and the air smelled heavily of stewed blubber and sea-prune tea.
She sat cross-legged near the central fire pit, watching the frantic energy settle into festive warmth. Beside her, Yoko was happily stringing bone beads with Nalu and Renu, looking completely at home after six months of living as honorary Water Tribe children. High, clear notes from a bird-bone flute began to play, cutting through the chatter as the elders took their seats.
But before she could settle into any more thoughts, a familiar voice broke through the crowd.
"—Oh, I'm sure we'll see them soon!"
Pema's sparkling, melodic voice broke through the loud chatter of the crowd, prompting Tanza to glance curiously over her shoulder. Heading their way were her own master and Yoko's vibrant master, both holding steaming wooden bowls of sea-prune tea in their hands. Even wrapped in a thick winter coat, Pema walked with a light, social bounce, gesturing with her free hand as she happily chatted away.
Kelsang nodded, keeping a side-glance on her bright companion. "It's one of the reasons I wanted to stay here," she softly remarked, an easygoing smile gracing her face. "Experiencing a true polar winter teaches them things the scrolls never could."
"Exactly! It's just so wonderfully atmospheric!" Pema agreed enthusiastically, her eyes scanning the massive ice dome before she finally locked onto the children. "Look at them, Kelsang! They look like tiny, adorable snow-sprites!"
As they reached the edge of the circle, Kelsang turned her full attention down to Tanza, her smile widening as she offered the warm bowl. "Here, drink up and warm yourself up under that coat." She handed the bowl down to Tanza, which Tanza accepted with a quick, 'thank you, master', before she slowly sipped from the bowl. The taste itself was both bitter and something else she couldn't pin, but it tasted wonderful.
Pema didn't wait to be invited. She immediately dropped down into the fur bedding right beside Yoko, her bubbly presence completely shifting the energy of the circle. "Oh, let me see those bone beads! Yoko, sweetie, are you making a necklace?" She giggled a bit, before smiling affectionately, "Nalu, Renu, you must teach me how to string these properly! Back at the Western Temple, everything is so terribly plain!"
Within seconds, Pema had Nalu and Renu giggling as she chatted with them like an old friend, completely skipping past any heavy talk about the harsh winter storm outside. Yoko eagerly held up her unfinished string of beads, thrilled to show off her progress to her master, who clapped for her little apprentice, and held it up for her to see.
Kelsang then quietly slid down to sit right next to Tanza on the thick fur bedding. The warm, chaotic atmosphere of the ice hall filled the space around them, with the constant murmur of adult voices chatting, the high notes of the bone flute playing, and Pema staying utterly excited for her young apprentice to experience the rich culture.
Kelsang finally spoke while she stared off into the crackling logs of the central fire pit. "So, what have you learned from the Winter Solstice so far, my little apprentice?" she asked softly with a small smile, keeping her gaze fixed on the bright bonfire.
Tanza took another sip of her tea, finally discovering that the flavor she couldn't pin down was tart—that was the exact word she had been trying to think of. Lowering her wooden bowl, she let the warm steam rise into her face before she finally spoke.
"I've asked around, and figured so far, we are expecting to see spirits?"
The actual subject matter of spirits and what they truly were was something she hadn't managed to learn enough about over the last six months. Most of the local people here had only explained that each Winter Solstice, the village was visited by spirits. Harmless ones, at the very least, according to the casual stories she had gathered from the hunters and the children.
Kelsang kept her eyes on the flickering orange flames, her easygoing smile turning a bit more thoughtful as she listened to Tanza's pragmatic summary.
"You're right about the spirits, my little apprentice, but there is a deeper reason why this night is so sacred," Kelsang explained softly, her voice carrying a deep look in her eyes as she stared into fire. "The Winter Solstice marks a profound turning of the world. It is the single night of the year when the veil separating the physical world from the Spirit World grows incredibly thin. And here, at the bottom of the world, that veil is even thinner."
Tanza tilted her head, listening closely. "Because we are at the Pole?" This conversation was more enlightening than she could ask for, but now she was further curious about this world beyond its elemental bending.
"Exactly," Kelsang nodded, gesturing to the thick ice arches above them. "The North and South Poles have a very ancient, very close relationship to the spirits. Long before the Avatar even existed, this land was a direct doorway between our world and theirs. Even though those ancient paths have been locked away for thousands of years, the spiritual energy remains deeply rooted in the ice. When the solstice hits, the two worlds slide so close together that they lay right on top of each other."
She looked down at Tanza, her eyes reflecting the warm amber firelight. "That is what this true festival is about. The Water Tribe celebrates a night of peace. They open their doors and welcome the small, wandering spirits that blur past the thinning veil, treating them like honored guests."
However, soon enough though, a heavy shadow fell across their circle as a broad, imposing figure stepped up to the fire pit. Tanza looked up to see a heavily bearded man wrapped in thick whale-wolf pelts. Three jagged, faded claw scars tore across his weathered face, running straight through his left eye, which remained permanently milky white from the old wound. It was Dovru, a village chief from the outer limits of the cove.
He stopped beside them, exhaling a deep, frosty breath. "Hm. Ah, Kelsang. Just the woman I'm looking for."
His gruff, rumbling voice caught her attention, making Kelsang look up at him with a pleasant nod.
Dovru grumbled a bit, reaching up with a thick mitten to scratch at his beard as he looked between the Air Master and her apprentice. "I need your help again. Like last time..."
He let out a heavy sigh, his single dark eye glancing toward the sealed hide doors of the hall where the blizzard was violently howling outside. "The wind is shifting bad out there, and the snow drifts are already starting to block the outer storage tunnels. If we don't get someone to clear the air shafts with a good blast of wind before midnight, the whale-meat caches are going to be buried until spring."
Kelsang let out a soft, understanding chuckle, placing her empty wooden bowl down onto the fur bedding as she prepared to stand up. "Say no more, Chief Dovru. A little wind management is the least I can do to earn our keep."
As Kelsang stood up and prepared to follow the scarred chief toward the heavy hide doors, the central whale-oil bonfire suddenly flickered. The bright orange flames smoothly transitioned into a soft, pale lavender hue.
A quiet gasp rippled through the children's circle.
From the dense, blue ice floorboards right at Tanza's feet, tiny specks of glowing light began to seep upward through the solid frost. They drifted into the air like weightless embers, slowly taking shape as they hovered over the fur bedding. They were the minor spirits of the solstice—translucent, floating wisps that looked like glowing sea-snails and soft ribbons of pulsing blue light.
"Oh, look! They're here! They're finally here!" Yoko squealed with pure, bubbling delight, completely forgetting everything else as she leaned forward to watch the glowing entities drift past her nose.
Beside her, Renu and Nalu immediately dropped their strings of bone beads. Their eyes shone with reflection as they reached out their thick mittens, giggling as a tiny, ribbon-like wisp lazily looped around Nalu's wrist before dissolving into a brief shower of sparkling, harmless frost.
Tanza sat perfectly still, her bowl of tea lowered as she watched the small spirits float higher toward the ice lanterns on the ceiling. It was visual, undeniable proof. The veil between the physical world and the Spirit World had officially thinned.
Kelsang paused for just a moment, glancing back over her shoulder at Tanza with a knowing nod that reminded her to keep her eyes open. Then, turning back to the scarred chief, she slipped her hands into her sleeves. "Lead the way, Dovru."
Tanza watched her master and the gruff village leader disappear into the crowded pathways of the hall, walking off to tend to the outer storage tunnels. Left behind in the warm, festive chaos of the glowing spirits, Tanza stood up to see outside.
She quietly stepped away from the noisy, laughing circle where Pema and the girls were still chasing the glowing wisps. Walking up a multi-tiered ice ramp toward the upper edge of the communal dome, she found a small lookout slit carved cleanly into the dense ice wall. It served as a high window to watch the horizon.
Pressing her face close to the narrow opening, Tanza peered out into the howling dark. The wind screamed past the slit, but her airbending insulation kept her from feeling the bite. Outside, the world was a chaotic canvas of swirling white and deep navy blue. The blizzard was savage, completely swallowing the docks.
Yet, through the thick sheets of driving snow, she could see massive ribbons of green and purple aurora lights rippling across the sky—and they weren't alone. Out in the freezing wild, larger, faint shapes of spirits were drifting across the tundra, completely unbothered by the storm.
Seeing the sheer scale of the spiritual energy outside made her heart beat a little faster. The entire South Pole was currently overlapping with the Spirit World.
Just as she felt a brief spike of worry about Hachi and Juun, her and Kelsang's sky bison, she assured herself by remembering that the visiting animals had already been transferred to the village's specialized ice-dome hangar for total warmth and safety.
It wasn't surprising that they were safe, considering that she, Yoko, Kelsang, and Pema weren't the only Air Nomads currently visiting Wolf Cove. There were a few others—two male masters and their young apprentice—whom she had seen earlier sitting on the lower tiers of the hall among the Water Tribe families.
As Tanza's thoughts drifted over the other visiting monks, her silent brooding was suddenly interrupted by the rugged, familiar voice of Lohoni.
"Oi. Get any closer to that slit and your face will freeze right off," the sixteen-year-old lightly teased.
The blunt warning prompted Tanza to pull back from the narrow ice window, turning her head to look curiously up at the older teen girl. Lohoni stood on the ice ramp with a heavy roll of skinned fur tucked neatly under her arm. Her expression was calm, almost bored, but her mouth held a small, sharp quirk of genuine amusement as she looked down at the six-year-old monk.
"The elders are about to start the grand storytelling," Lohoni said, shifting the heavy fur roll to her other side. "Zetida's grandmother is already warming up her lungs, which means we're in for at least three hours of ancient sea-monster legends." She nodded at her, "You planning on hiding up here the whole night, or are you actually going to join the feast?"
With a curious tone, Lohoni tilted her head. "But what were you looking for out there anyway?" she asked with a careless look. "It's just windy snow and spirits out there," she lamely shrugged.
Tanza looked back at the narrow slit, before turning her gaze up to the older girl. "Just... just forgetting that our bison should be fine out there," she reasoned back.
Lohoni stared at her for a second, then looked over her shoulder at the crowded hall below where the village elders were beginning to clear their throats. A look of pure dread crossed her face.
"Tell you what," Lohoni said, a sudden smirk breaking across her lips as she leaned in closer. "I really don't feel like sitting through another three-hour story from old granny Kusede tonight. My dad and I actually have to step outside for a bit to straighten out the fences near the animal pens anyway. If you want, you can tag along under my supervision to check on your bison yourself."
Tanza blinked, surprised by the sudden offer. Stepping outside in the middle of a historic solstice blizzard was a logistical nightmare for a regular six-year-old child, but for a trained airbender who secretly wanted a closer look at the thinned veil, it was an unprecedented opportunity.
"Are you sure?" Tanza asked, keeping her tone carefully measured so she wouldn't look too eager. "The storm is getting pretty bad out there."
Lohoni scoffed, confidently adjusting the heavy roll of fur under her arm. "Please. It's just a little South Pole breeze. Wrap that caribou coat tight, monk. Let's go see those big flying furballs before the elders trap us in here for the rest of the night!" She said while clenching her free hand in eagerness.
Valik, Lohoni's father, stood just outside the heavy entrance flaps of the hall. Around him, a few other village men were already shouting over the wind, walking off into the swirling white chaos to attend to their own blizzard-filled duties. Valik turned his towering frame to face his daughter and the young monk. His massive parka hood tightly framed his face, a thick black beard covered his lower jaw, and a pair of carved bone snow goggles protected his eyes from the blinding glare of the storm.
"Alright. From here, stay close to Lohoni," he warned Tanza, his voice rumbling deep beneath his layers.
Tanza gave a firm nod behind her own gear. She, too, wore her snow leopard caribou parka with the heavy hood pulled securely over her head, alongside a matching pair of bone snow goggles to shield her vision from the blistering ice particles.
As they stepped fully away from the shelter of the communal dome, the experience alone left her completely awestruck. Peering through the narrow horizontal slits of her goggles, the bleak winter darkness was entirely illuminated. Above the village, a vibrant, colossal bow of the aurora borealis rippled across the sky in brilliant ribbons of green and violet. Beneath it, countless glowing spirits were gracefully swimming through the friggy air, ascending toward the light like a school of deep-sea fish drawn to a surface flame. It was a breathtaking, raw display of the thinned veil, entirely unbothered by the raging storm.
Lohoni, who wore the exact same protective gear, bent down and offered a hand to Tanza.
"Alright, brat, let's go!" she called out. Her voice was full of urgency, though a bit of her usual playfulness still peeked through the heavy wind. "We don't need to stand around here any more than we have to!"
Tanza reached up and firmly took Lohoni's hand, ensuring her grip was secure. With a steady nod, the older girl began leading her forward, guiding her through the deep drifts as the blizzard howled fiercely all around them. The wind ripped across the paths, but Tanza kept her internal balance steady, using her feet to anchor herself against the slippery ice just like Kusede had shown her.
As she walked hand-in-hand with the teenager through the blinding white storm, Tanza looked around through the narrow slits of her goggles. The raw spiritual energy of the night was everywhere. Aside from the massive entities ascending toward the aurora borealis, the air right at eye level was filled with even more spirits.
Dozens of small, translucent entities floated gracefully through the freezing air like glowing jellyfish drifting through deep ocean water. They pulsed with gentle shades of blue and lavender, entirely unaffected by the violent gusts of the storm. One of them drifted close enough to brush against the edge of Tanza's hood, leaving behind a faint trail of glowing frost before lazily bobbing away into the dark.
For a six-year-old child, it would have been a terrifying sight. But for Tanza, it was a beautiful sight, if she had to say in subjectivity.
As Valik led the way through a massive, wind-carved ridge, his heavy boots kicked up sheets of white powder until a massive, rounded structure loomed out of the dark. It was the village's ice-dome hangar, built thick and low to protect the visiting sky bison from the worst of the polar winters.
"Stay back for a second," Valik barked over the howling wind, his bone goggles catching the green glint of the aurora above. He stepped up to the entrance and hauled back the frozen, triple-layered hide flaps. "Let me make sure the drafts didn't break the—"
He froze mid-sentence.
Lohoni frowned, pulling Tanza along as she stepped up beside her father. "Dad? What's wrong? Are the big furballs okay?"
Tanza peered past Valik's towering frame, and her eyes widened a fraction. The interior of the hangar was entirely gone.
Instead of a dark, stone-floored stable smelling of hay and bison fur, the open doorway revealed a cavernous space filled with a thick, glowing violet mist. The ground beneath the fog wasn't ice, but a lush, shifting carpet of pale blue spirit-moss that pulsed gently with every breath of the wind.
The entire visiting herd was there, huddled together for warmth—but every single one of them was completely incapacitated. Juun and the calf, Hachi, were curled tight against Pema's massive adult bison. Nearby, Yoko's young calf and the three other bison belonging to the male masters were nestled in the glowing moss. They all looked slightly translucent, their massive forms drifting in a deep, unbreakable spiritual sleep.
Floating right above the center of the sleeping herd was a giant solstice spirit. It looked like a majestic, glowing white owl with ribbons of starlight for tail feathers, peacefully preening its wings. The massive combined spiritual energy of so many sky bison had acted like a beacon through the thin veil, drawing the entity in. It hadn't attacked or caused any harm; it had simply chosen the coziest, most spiritually charged spot in Wolf Cove to rest, accidentally dragging the entire hangar and every animal inside across the veil into the Spirit World.
"By the spirits..." Lohoni whispered, her hand tightening around Tanza's in pure shock.
Valik reached out a heavy mitten to touch the frozen door frame, but his hand passed cleanly through the violet mist as if it were nothing but empty air. He grunted in frustration. "It's a spirit blur. The room is sitting right on the edge of the other side." He griped, "We can't touch the ropes, and we can't wake any of them up from out here."
As the freezing mountain air rushed into the hangar, the giant white owl spirit ruffled its starlight feathers, sensing the sudden drop in temperature. Instantly responding to the cold draft, the pale blue spirit-moss along the floor began to grow at an unnatural speed. It slithered up the frozen door frame like glowing vines, rapidly weaving itself together until it completely covered the entrance, shutting the warm, violet inside off from the freezing outside world.
Tanza felt a sudden pang of worry for Hachi, her jaw tightening as she gritted her teeth in pure annoyance. Looking up at the scarred village leader, she demanded, "Is there anything we can do?"
Lohoni's dad shook his head, his black beard rustling against his collar. "Wait it out till the blizzard is over is what we usually do," he grumpily answered, crossing his heavy arms. "This sorta thing happens every other year. Not rare, but also not common."
He turned his bone goggles back to look at the thick wall of glowing moss-covered entrance. "If anything, those bison in there should be just fine. We've had people stuck in something like this before, and they only mention feeling like they were in a deep slumber when the spirit finally leaves. No harm ever comes to them. They just sleep."
Tanza stared at the glowing moss barrier, letting out a sharp breath that misted inside her goggles. Valik's words were reassuring, but her mindset absolutely hated being left completely powerless by a simple environmental delay.
Tanza stared at the glowing wall of pale blue spirit-moss, her breath catching slightly in her throat.
Valik's words were reasonable, and his logic was perfectly sound for a local hunter who had lived with the land his entire life. But her mindset—and something much older, buried deep within her past life—absolutely refused to accept it.
Back in her old world, when she was nothing more than a tired salaryman drowning in endless paperwork, she had desperately wanted a dog. She had spent years dreaming of a loyal companion to welcome her home after a grueling shift, only for her strict apartment complexes to ban pets entirely. It had been a quiet, lingering regret. Now, in this strange new life, she had come into the possession of a furred partner in the form of a sky bison calf. Hachi had grown on her at a surprising speed over the last half-year, he had become an animal asset she fiercely liked.
Adult bison might be spiritually robust enough to sleep off a solstice blur, but Hachi was just a baby. If his young soul drifted too far into the Spirit World, or if the intense spiritual energy overwhelmed his small body, she wouldn't forgive herself. She wasn't going to let a wall of magical weeds stop her now.
"Hey! What are you doing!?" Lohoni's sudden, panicked shout ripped through the howling wind.
Before either of the Water Tribe citizens could react, Tanza moved. Stepping right out of her safe defensive stance, she bypassed Valik entirely and slammed her hand directly into the thick, glowing barrier.
Instead of hitting solid ice or dense plant matter, her fingers sank effortlessly into the moss. It felt like pushing her hand through warm, thick water. The spiritual frequency of her Air Nomad heritage, combined with her deep, subconscious link to Hachi, acted like a key in a lock. The moss didn't block her; it eagerly parted around her small frame, the pale blue vines glowing brighter as they pulled her forward.
"Tanza, wait! Stop!" Valik bellowed, lunging forward with his heavy mittened hand to grab her parka.
But his physical fingers passed cleanly through the edge of her coat, unable to tether her momentum. With one final, determined stride, Tanza let herself slip completely through the threshold, leaving the freezing polar blizzard and the shouting voices behind as she plunged directly into the silent, violet fog of the Spirit World.
With one final, determined stride, Tanza let herself slip completely through the threshold, leaving the freezing polar blizzard and the shouting voices behind as she plunged directly into the silent, violet fog.
The roaring wind died instantly, replaced by an absolute, heavy silence.
The transition wasn't just a change in scenery, it was a violent shift in gravity. A sudden wave of dizziness hit her, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut as a strange, pulling sensation rippled through her entire being. In the Spirit World, form followed the soul. The physical reality of her temporary six-year-old body vanished, unravelling to reveal the true, untamed shape of her subconscious self.
When the dizziness finally passed, Tanza slowly opened his eyes.
The ground beneath his feet felt entirely different. Looking down, he noticed his bare ankles stretching out from beneath his yellow-and-orange Air Nomad robes, but they were no longer small and stubby. He was taller. Much taller. His limbs had elongated, his chest had broadened into a heavy, masculine frame, and his head height distance from the floor was suddenly far, far away from the glowing blue moss. He raised his hands, staring at long, calloused fingers and broad palms that belonged to a grown man—the exact hands of the lonely salaryman who had once drowned in office paperwork.
"Wha—"
His... his voice chimed out, catching in his throat as the deep, tired, and distinctly masculine tone of his past life slipped from his lips. The pitch resonated clearly in the silent, violet cave, completely shattering the illusion of the little girl he had been playing for the last six years.
He was back in his own skin, but he was trapped in a realm where he couldn't hide behind a child's smile anymore.
Outside the glowing threshold, time was operating on a completely different, dangerous scale. While time moved slower inside, outside, the daughter and father had already gone back to get Kelsang for help.
"She just vanished right into the wall!" Lohoni shouted, her voice nearly swallowed by the howling polar wind as she ran alongside her father.
Valik didn't waste breath answering. He pushed his towering frame through the deep, blinding snow drifts, leading the way back toward the multi-tiered communal ice halls at a frantic sprint. A six-year-old child stepping into a spirit blur was an absolute emergency. They needed someone who actually understood the strange, invisible rules of the Air Nomads—they needed her master.
Bursting through the heavy, triple-layered hide doors of the festival hall, Valik and Lohoni didn't care about interrupting the elders' opening stories. They scanned the crowded, amber-lit room until they spotted the tall, steady form of Kelsang, who had just returned from clearing the outer storage vents.
"Kelsang!" Lohoni panted, skidding across the slick ice floor to grab the Air Master's sleeve. Her face goggles were frosted over, her chest heaving with pure panic. "It's Tanza! She... she ran straight into the sky bison hangar. The whole place is caught in a spirit blur, and she slipped right through the moss barrier before we could grab her!"
Kelsang's easygoing expression vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp, intense focus. As an Air Master, she knew exactly how volatile a solstice overlap could be for a young child's spirit.
"Show me," Kelsang commanded, her hands sliding out of her sleeves as she turned back toward the freezing storm without a second thought. "Now."
Meanwhile, back inside the spirit-infested building, which pulsed with blue moss, Tanza sighed to himself, "I've forgotten what it was like..."
He looked down at his long arms and broad, masculine chest, flexing his fingers. Feeling the actual physical weight of his original adult stature again was almost overwhelming. It brought back a sudden, heavy rush of his old identity.
He didn't have much time to dwell on his old body, though. The air around him was warm, thick, and humming with pure, vibrant energy. Standing up to his full adult height, he looked past the glowing violet mist and spotted the massive, rounded shapes of the sleeping sky bison herd.
He rushed forward, his longer legs closing the distance across the pulsing blue carpet of moss in just a few heavy strides. Kneeling down beside the giant, translucent flank of Pema's adult bison, he found the small, fluffy form of Hachi. The baby calf was curled tight, shivering slightly as its young consciousness drifted deep into the spiritual current.
"Hey, wake up," he whispered, his deep, past-life voice sounding completely alien in his own ears as he gently nudged the calf's shoulder. "We need to go. Your master is waiting."
The calf let out a tiny, muffled whimper in its sleep, but its eyes remained tightly shut.
Before he could try to shake the animal awake again, a sudden shift in the air pressure caused the yellow-and-orange robes on his back to flutter. The deep silence of the hangar cracked as a soft, musical chime echoed from the ice arches above.
Directly above him, the giant, majestic white owl spirit had stopped preening its feathers. Its massive wings spread wide, casting long, starlit shadows across the sleeping herd. A pair of enormous, obsidian-black eyes locked onto him from the fog, staring straight down at the foreign, adult soul crouching in the middle of the nursery.