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The mountain lion was low to the ground, hidden by a Joshua tree and a boulder, as it stalked its prey. Completely unaware of the great black hellhound that was stalking it.

David licked his chops as he prepared to pounce. He knew he had to wait. The lion was still too on edge, the slightest sound would alert it to his presence. He waited until after the lion bolted and took down their prey, a wild donkey that was chewing on some coarse desert grass.

The lion leapt upon the burro and bit into its neck, dragging its prey onto the ground.

That was the best time for David to strike, while his prey was preoccupied with its own. He readied to leap when he felt a splash of searing hot pain on his flank.

He awoke with yelps of pain, thrashing on the bed.

“Wake up!” yelled Morrison before drinking from his mug what was left of the coffee he threw on David. “Dane needs you for something about your apprenticeship.”

David shook the coffee from his fur and whined in the First Tongue, “It’s my day off.”

“Don’t care,” said Morrison leaving the bedroom. “Get up and get ready.”

David grumbled to himself and curled up to try to go back to sleep, hoping to get back to what he was dreaming about. The details already slipping from his mind.

“NOW!” yelled Morrison from the living room. “Or I’ll dump the rest of the pot on you too.”

Begrudgingly, David got up from bed and got ready to go to Alamo for whatever menial task Matt Dane wanted him to perform this time. He barely had time to have a shower to wash out the stench of coffee off him, and have breakfast before the Old Man ushered him into the squad car in the elder’s words “Get you out of my fucking fur for the day”

He brooded in the squad car for the entire ride, unhappy with not being allowed to sleep in on one of his few days off.

Morrison rolled into his eyes and growled when he got fed up with the pup’s constant grumbling, “Get used to it. No such thing as a day off as an Uratha.”

He was dropped at the border of Dane’s territory where Dane was waiting with his truck. He switched cars and Dane took him north towards Mount Irish where their den was, as well as a powerful locus.

It was a trek up the mountain from where they parked, being made to hike up the entire barren mountain, shrubs were the only plant life on the mountain’s surface. They followed a foot trail that led to a tourist site covered in ancient petroglyphs before suddenly turning off the trail and followed what seemed like a game trail.

The trail was well used, with plenty of evidence of wolves if one knew what to look for. The occasional paw print in the dirt, a tuft of fur in bordering shrub, skeletal remains of hunted hares.

The game trail led to a cave entrance at the mountain’s peak. It was dark, and would have been foreboding to a human, but, to David, always felt homely and welcoming on the occasions he visited. The pleasant sound of a bubbling spring came from within the cave.

They entered, following the cave into a cavern that opened up into a large chamber where at its very back was a pool of water, a natural spring bubbling up from under the ground. The locus that Dane’s pack claimed and formed their den around. The entire mountain top was the locus, and that spring was the focal point for it. Different items and furniture littered the cavern, belonging to different members of Dane’s pack.

Dane led David to the far end of the cavern, his crafting area for fetishes. There was an old anvil where he made weapon fetishes, klaives, and a workbench for the other kinds of fetishes. A large shelf was nearby, full of old journals and dusty tomes full of lore relating to fetishes and spirits.

Dane went to the shelf and pulled out a particularly worn, and well used tome from it.

He set the heavy tome down onto the workbench and opened it. From it, he started showing David the minute nuances of the actual ritual to bind a spirit to a fetish.

After a couple hours David asked, “Why are you teaching me this? Are you finally gonna let me watch you make a fetish?”

“No,” said Matt with a shake of his head. “You’re making a fetish.”

“What?!” cried David. “I haven’t even watched you make one yet. How do you expect me to make one?”

“I’ve taught you everything you need to know,” said Matt. “Unlike how your elder makes you out to be, you’re quite smart when it comes to this. You’ve picked this all up pretty quick. You don’t need me to hold your paw for this final part.”

He waved a hand around the crafting area and asked, “Any idea what kind you want to make, kid?”

One fetish actually did come to mind as something he wanted to make. A Charred Death Rattle. A fetish that was, according to the tome he he snuck a look into when he wasn’t supposed to, common to see among Bone Shadows and enhanced an Uratha’s ability to use Tongue of Flame.

He sheepishly mumbled his choice, and Dane nodded, “That’s a good choice. It’s not the strongest of fetishes so it’s a good one to make as a beginner, and it’s a good idea for someone of your, uh, _proclivity _for pyrotechnics.”

He flipped a couple pages of the tome and said, “So since you already know what you’re making, that covers the first few steps. Now you just need to determine what spirit to use and what to make it out of.”

David mumbled to himself in thought for several moments as he brainstormed on what spirit to use, and what materials to use.

The materials were self explanatory. The passage of the book he found out about them described the Charred Death Rattle as being charms made of scorched bone.

“Bones from an animal killed by fire,” said David.

Matt nodded, “That sounds perfect. The spirit those charms will house?”

As for the spirit, only one spirit came to mind. The fire and rage spirit that tormented him when he was going through his First Change. The same spirit that gave him his Tongue of Flame gift the night he burned down the asylum, and joined the Bone Shadows tribe.

“You know the asylum I burned down?” asked David.

“I think every Uratha in Nevada knows about that by now, Madhouse,” chuckled Matt, emphasising David’s deedname. “That wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“Well, doing that is how I got the Tongue of Flame gift,” said David. “It was a rage and fire spirit. That’d be the best spirit for the death rattle.”

Matt nodded, “That’ll work. But the trick is getting the spirit here. I’ll have to use the Messenger Rite to get its attention. Will it still be at the asylum’s ruins?”

David nodded. He poured a lot of rage into the act of burning the place down. So, even months later, he guessed that the spirit would still be feeding off the rage and fire essence created by it.

Dane walked off towards the spring at the back of the cavern, with David following him like a puppy. He knelt down and spoke in the First Tongue into the dark waters of the spring. But his voice was strange. As if two people were speaking; him and a second melodic voice.

“Spirit of rage and fire. I, Matt Quickfingers Dane of Luna’s Pride request your presence in my territory. Meet with me at the top of Mount Irish and be reunited with the acquaintance that gifted you the essence that you now feast on.”

He stood up from the edge of the spring, “Now we wait.”

“For how long?” David asked, already impatient.

“It’s all the way in Vegas,” said Matt. “It’ll have to walk its happy ass here. That’s if it even decides to.”

“It will,” David said assuredly, sitting down hard on one of the couches in the cave. The spirit hounded him for the entirety of his First Change and even followed him afterwards. It would come.

“Good,” said Matt. “Otherwise it’d require a powerful summoning ritual. It’s difficult to summon a spirit from this far away. That would cost you a big favor for me to do for you.”

They waited for a few hours. Matt spent most of it on his phone, whereas David was on a couch right by the spring. He was flipping through his sketchbook sketching out ideas for future fetishes. While he was sketching out the idea for a klaive he caught, in the corner of his eye, Matt lean over to sneak a peak at what he was drawing.

He slapped the sketchbook to his chest and growled defensively at his mentor.

Matt found the display humorous rather than threatening. He chuckled, “I’m not trying to steal your ideas, kid. Every fetish is unique to their crafter. So if we created the same kind of fetish, the two results would be massively different from each other.”

He looked at the sketchbook, still held tight against his apprentice’s chest, “Also, if that’s what I think it is, you’ll want to have something more associated with death. Perhaps a bone of some sort for the hilt. It’s also far outside your skill to make right now. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

David grumbled to himself. It wasn’t that he thought his mentor was going to steal his ideas, but that the specific klaive he was designing was actually intended to be a gift for his mentor. As thanks for teaching him. It was another sort fetish that he found the description of in one of his mentor’s tomes that he wasn’t supposed to be snooping through at the time. It, like Matt had said, was far outside his skill to be able to make at the moment. But he didn’t intend to make it until he became far more proficient in creating fetishes. He grabbed his eraser and erased the blade’s hilt and started sketching out a bone for the hilt instead. A femur, he decided, so that it was long enough that it could be comfortably held in the paw of an Uratha in Gauru.

Both werewolves suddenly shot up from what they were doing to spend the time, the hairs on the back of their neck standing on end. Something was on the other side of the locus, pressing against the Gauntlet. With how thin the Gauntlet was around loci, if whatever it was pushed hard enough, it’d come right through and enter the Mundane.

“Oh, we got a new spirit on the other side,” said Dane.

A familiar voice like the crackling of fire spoke up. It was muffled to the point of almost sounding like a whisper, as if the owner was speaking from behind a wall. “So you wish to contain my power and keep me bound up. Is that it, little wolf?”

David wanted to reach through the Gauntlet and strangle the spirit. Force it into the fetish he wanted to make. But Matt warned him against doing stuff like that. Explained that a willing spirit always gave a superior fetish and was far less likely to misbehave as some fetishes were if made in a sub-par way.

“If you agree to this,” said David, choosing his words carefully and avoiding his disdain for that spirit from showing, “Just being allowed past the Gauntlet is a rare privilege for a spirit. Let alone being allowed to create more rage and havoc than you could on the Spirit World of the Gauntlet.”

“I will be able to cause more damage on the Mundane side AND feed off your rage?” asked the spirit, it’s crackling in excitement and the temperature in the cavern increasing slightly. “Alright, what will be the term of this binding?”

Dane leaned in and whispered, “A fetish of this potency is usually a term of five to ten years.”

“I thought you weren’t going to hold my hand for this,” David whispered back.

“I lied,” said Dane.

“Ten years,” David said to the spirit. He remembered hearing from Kaiden one time, when making deals, to make a big ask first and then work down to the result you actually want.

“Agreed,” said the spirit. “We have a deal.”

David’s eyes widened. He didn’t expect the spirit to agree so readily. He guessed, in hindsight, that something associated with rage wasn’t exactly able to bargain. People couldn’t usually be bargained with when they were in a burning rage.

Dane spoke up, “Since you’re in agreement, I give you permission to cross the Gauntlet so you can be present for the ritual.”

He nudged David forward, “It’s customary to pay chiminage to a spirit as thanks for agreeing to be bound to a fetish.”

David pulled out his lighter and approached the very edge of the spring. He knelt down and flicked the lighter on. His lips twisted in a silent snarl as he stuck the flame to his free palm. The skin blistered under the exposed flame.

He plunged his hand into the spring, but instead of feeling relief from the cold water it was scalding. His hand even disappeared, seeming severed from his wrist as he Reached across the Gauntlet.

He snarled audibly in pain as he felt a scorching hot hand grasp his own as the rage and fire spirit accepted the proffered Essence.

It let go of his hand and he quickly pulled his hand back through the Gauntlet. He looked at his hand and saw it healing slower than normal. An effect of the symbolic nature of him offering his Essence to the spirit.

The temperature of the cavern peaked again. The air gained a smokey quality to it and motes of embers sparked into existence. The embers flickered, seeming to struggle to stay lit, before more appeared. Then more. Then more again, followed by small wisps of flame. The smoke, embers, and flame all coalesced in the centre of the cavern into a humanoid form as the spirit that hounded David as a wolf-blood for so long materialised into the Mundane. It turned to face David.

“Hello, Puppy.”

David’s lip started to twitch in a snarl before he was harshly pulled aside by Dane.

“You should go track down an animal to kill with fire,” he said. “Should be easy enough for you to find a hare or two.”

David shook his head, “The bones from a hare would be too small.”

Dane thought to himself for a moment before his eyes lit up, “There’s a mountain lion that’s been sighted here on the mountain. If you want to take care of that for me, that’ll be great. Keep in mind that lions seem small for a big cat but they’ll eat children. Been known to do that. So they’re shoot on sight here.”

“I grew up in Vegas,” said David. “I knew that already.”

“I thought you were from Utah,” said Dane.

“I moved there after my family’s funeral,” said David.

“Oh, sorry,” said Dane. He then ushered Daved towards the cave’s entrance. “Go get that lion. Quickly if you can. Fire spirits tend to be impatient and I don’t want him burning my books cause he was bored.”

David nodded, the bones from a mountain lion would be large enough for the charms he had in mind. He also had an idea for a fetish to make in the future that could use its skull. A mundane wolf or bear skull would be best, but they didn’t live this far down in Nevada. So a mountain lion would have to do.

He shifted to Urhan and loped out of the cave and onto the mountain side. He put his nose to the ground and started looking for the mountain lion’s trail.

It took him longer than he would have liked to find the lion’s trail. Everyone else in the pack were better trackers than him. He followed the trail around to the other side of Mount Irish where he found the lion chewing on the bones of a dead donkey.

He shuddered as he felt a strange sense of déjà vu before he huddled low to the ground. He stalked around the lion, making sure to stay out of sight of the lion and keep his scent downwind from it.

He waited until the time was right before he shifted instantly to Hishu, spending essence to do so, whipped out his lighter and sent a roaring beam of fire straight at the feasting lion.

It yowled in shock and agony as its fur caught light. It thrashed around on the ground in a panicked attempt to extinguish the flames.

It only took half a minute for it to stop its thrashing and collapse onto the ground.

David approached the lion’s scorched, still form. It was still breathing but very clearly dying. As an act of mercy, and to make sure that it died from fire and not shock, he blasted the lion with another gout of flame.

He extinguished the flames, his nose scrunched up from the rank smell of burning fur. Now all that was needed was to harvest the bones he needed. He didn’t have a knife so he’d have to make do with his claws. So he shifted to Dalu, he needed the dexterity of regular hands, and got to work.

The ribs would be the best to make the charms he wanted. No need to carve them to size, just needed to clip them to size. He grabbed and lifted one of the forelegs out of the way, the dry, burnt skin cracked, and the cooked tendons crunched. He easily snapped it out of the way, the fire having destroyed any integral strength the muscles, joints, and tendons had.

He sliced open the skin along the ribs, he pulled it up and away from the ribcage, using his claws to separate it from the connective tissues. He made sure to have his claws against the bone as he did, to have as little meat on them as possible. He kept slicing until he reached the vertebrae and was able to easily cut the chosen ribs out of the costovertebral joints.

Next was the head. He checked it over and didn’t see any readily visible signs that the skull was broken in its thrashing. He needed it fully intact.

He exposed the cervical vertebrae, cut the cartilage, and once it was sufficiently cut through he gave it a strong yank and snapped the head off from the rest of the body. He left the rest of the body for scavengers and got up with ribs and head in hand.

It took half the time to return to Dane’s den, since he didn’t have to slowly look around for a trail. Dane quirked an eyebrow when he saw the head but didn’t ask any questions.

Dane stepped aside for David to use his workbench. David set the lion head to the side and started rooting around for different tools. He pulled out some large bolt cutters from a draw and started clipping the ribs to size. He filed off any broken and sharp parts down and then started drilling holes into the small, blank charms he had created.

All the while the flame spirit flitted around David, excited by the smell of burnt bone. David smirked internally, proud that he had clearly chosen the right materials for the fetish.

He reached for a small drawer full of leather cords to string the charms together but paused, his hand on the drawer handle.

“Do you have any silver chains?” He asked.

Dane reached for a separate drawer, where a small jewellery box was kept, and pulled out a thin silver necklace rope.

He went to offer it to David but pulled it away last minute when David reached for it. He asked, “What for?”

“The fetish,” answered David.

“Why not use a regular leather cord?” He asked. “Most Death Rattles use that.”

“We live right next to a pack of Firetouched,” said David, reaching again for the rope but Dane pulled it away. “If I use silver while making it they won’t be able to use it, and if they try and get rid of it, it’ll destroy the fetish.”

Dane nodded, the corners of his lips twitched into a faint smile. He handed the silver rope to David who quickly got to work threading it through the bone charms.

Once he was done he held it up to have a better look at the completed vessel for the spirit. Its quality was undeniable.

“Looks good,” said Dane with a nod. “Now to perform the binding.”

Dane offered David some tools to carve the binding runes but he ignored them. Ever since he petitioned the lunes to go over the Old Man’s head he found that not only did his Tongue of Flame gift become more powerful, but like Colin said, he became able to shape the flame. He still wasn’t able to move it away from its source, but shape it to his will he could.

He pulled out his lighter, and using his Tongue of Flame, manipulated the small flame to act a brush of sorts. Scorch the binding runes deep into the charms.

He had a steady hand, and was well experienced with using his Shadow Gift, that it didn’t take long for the last of the charms to be finished.

With a puff of smoke the spirit that had been flitting around the entire time was sucked into the fetish. The runes flashed, as if they were burning from within.

“Huh,” said Dane, surprised. “That was unusually quick. It usually takes longer.”

He leaned over and picked up the completed fetish. He said as he turned the fetish over in his hands, “Oh wow, very good job. You’re a quick learner. Very good quality.”

He handed the fetish back to David who put it around their neck. “I’m impressed kid.”

He added, “The quality of that fetish is enough for me to say that you’ve successfully completed your apprenticeship.”

“Already?” David asked, shocked.

“Yes,” Dane said with a proud smile. “I’m quite impressed with how quickly you picked this all up.”

He patted David's shoulder, “Now you can show this off to the Old Man and the rest of your pack to show them what you can do.”

Dane's hand on David’s shoulder brought to him, unbidden, an old memory. He was just a small child showing his father one of his drawings. He had done it plenty of times before then but this memory stood out because it was the first time he ever showed his father a drawing that could actually be described as good. He couldn’t remember his face, but he remembered that he was smiling and that he was patting David’s shoulder like Dane was now.

David shook off Dane's hand and turned away. He angrily wiped away the tears forming in his eyes.