The Tale of Amarok and Expectations

The Amarok was a children’s story.

At least that’s what I used to believe.

Even when the Shamans painted its likeness —I never bought into it. A wolf larger than any elk, fur marbled in white, silver, and void-black? Please. Eyes like living flame. Paws that left frost so deep no fire could melt it?

Spare me.

The Amarok des not appear to everyone. It chooses its seekers and those who follow it for vengeance will only ever find bones. But those who follow it with truth in their hearts….they will see the light. The trail of Amarok was never straight. It curved, vanished only to reappear miles away. Apparently, spirits don’t like being predictable. The stories of trees bowing and rivers parting were no metaphor—they were consequences of divinity.

And Amarok wasn’t the only tale spun around my ears. There were others: bat-like humanoids that could detach their torsos mid-flight; one eyed-beasts that watched from beyond the snowline; frost-lurkers with long, sinuous bodies whose hides mimicked falling snow. Its even said those things are why we raid the coal mines in the far east —to forge blades sharp enough to cut them.

The point of this ramble is, I never thought I would become a believer out of necessity. Because it was those ear-spinning nonsensical tales revealed the truth to me.

I crouched and brushed aside the top layer of snow.

My fingerprints touched charcoal dust pressed into the shape of paw prints Kol was supposedly tracking.

So why didn’t it feel divine?

Something about this felt wrong.

“Are we still on the trail?” I asked.

Kol didn’t answer.

He stood a few paces ahead, his back to me, staring between two leaning pines. When he turned, his eyes were unnervingly still.

“You think I’d lie about that?!”

The words sounded rehearsed.

Did I?

I thought about the bandits, the hunt, the storm

Kol had been there for all of it—always ahead, always catching me before I fell.

“You think I’m not leading you on the wrong path?” he asked.

“I think,” I replied carefully, “that…..this trail isn’t real.”

It was still conjecture for now but what he said next or rather the sound he made was the chilling confirmation.

Kol laughed.

“I know.”

That single word hit harder than any fall, bruise.

“What?!”

“Look…..” He raked a hand through his braids, pacing once, twice. “I know how it sounds. Just…..just let me explain, okay?”

He grabbed my arm.

Not hard.

Not gentle either.

“No,” I said. My voice came out thin. “I think I finally understand.”

Instinct screamed through me. I wrenched back, pain flaring through my ribs. Kol released me instantly, horror flashing across his face.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean…..just….gods, listen….”

He had that same look I was used to.

I stepped away.

To my left, the forest of white was wide open, inviting me in. Dense, curved and unpredictable.

Not my kind of path.

I was certainly not faster than Kol but I reckoned I could make strides and lose him in the white. The path we took through the ravine was committed to memory. If I cut through the forest, double back to the ravine, I could still find Amarok’s trail.

“You cannot find the Amarok,” Kol said suddenly.

I froze.

“You can’t,” he continued. “You’re chasing it like prey Like something to conquer or bargain with. That’s not how it works.”

“SHUT UP!” I screamed, clenching my beating chest. “Shut up.”

“And even if you found it somehow,” he pressed. “Why would it grant you a wish?”

I stared at him my mouth frozen.

My ears rang. Voices collided in my skull, Kol’s, my father’s - Each pulling me in a different direction.

“You don’t know that,” I said my fists clenching. “I will convince…”

Kol shifted his footing, steadying himself.

“I don’t get it,” Kol shook his head. “You have the chance to be chief. Do you know what that means to the village?”

“So what?” I snapped. “You think this is some grand revelation? I know what’s expected of me. I’ll do it when….”

“When it’s convenient?” he cut in. “I should’ve known this would be a waste of time.”

“No one asked you to follow me.”

Kol stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Someone did, you narcissistic…”

“I’m narcissistic?” I laughed bitterly. “Look who’s talking. I knew it from the very start not to trust you….”

“Oh is that so?” he said with a sneer,” … you didn’t seem to think so when I was saving your ass. Without me, you’d be toast and you know it.”

That was true. Kol was crucial these past days. During the hunt, the storm. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I didn’t need you,” I said, swallowing.

Kol laughed. “Of course you did. You always do. Everyone in the village breaks their backs because you refuse to learn how to DO ANYTHING. You’re useless and pathetic. No wonder your father was ashamed of you.”

Something violent snapped in me.

My fist moved before thought could stop it.

The impact shot pain through my knuckles as it connected. Kol stumbled back a step, more stunned than hurt.

“You have no right!” I yelled.

My father loved me.

I knew this. Yes, there were times when we disagreed on matters but I loved him and he loved me as his son.

And that is why I wanted him back and nothing was going to stop me.

My hand was in pain and looking at Kol, my eyes narrowed, hardening into something colder than the surrounding. It was like that time with the boar, a sudden rush of adrenaline burned me, my left arm — the one not in pain-gasped tightly on my small knife. I realized if I stayed any longer, I would do something I had done for the first time recently. I knew I would kill him. That realization scared more than anything ever hard.

I turned and ran.

My breath condensed into white mists.

Snow tore at my calves with every step, dragging me back like grasping hands. The forest swallowed sound the way graves swallow prayers—branches sagged under the weight of ice, trunks black and split by cold. Every inhale burned. Every exhale smoked.

Behind me, Kol shouted my name once.

He didn’t chase.

That was for the best.

My chest felt hollow as I forced my legs to keep moving. My ribs screamed with every impact. Snow gave way beneath my boots in sudden drops that sent cold up my spine.

I’d trusted Kol with my life.

With my wish.

Father warned me of people like him, kind enough to ruin you gently.

The Amarok was the last foolish thing I allowed myself to hope might still be real. The last piece of chance to delay my fate. To outrun expectation.

I stumbled into a drift and went down hard, hands plunging into snow so deep it swallowed my wrists. For a moment, I stayed there, shaking. Not from the cold.

From the truth.

I had been chasing ghosts. Father. Mother. Amarok.

No wish would bring them back.

Then something moved.

I pushed to my knees slowly.

The forest was too still. Even my breath sounded offensive. The snow along the trunks began to stretch — lines thinning where bark met white, pulling into cords.

The trees….

Were they bowing?