“You were born like that?” Kershov blurted the words without meaning to, his shock bursting past his cold facade, and he instantly clamped his jaws shut with a short angry growl directed entirely at himself. He’d seen wolves with antler, feathers, and scales. He’d watched eruptions of light and energy geyser into the sky. He’d survived the very land quaking and changing under his very paws, ripping itself apart and reforming into the Blossom Forest that existed today. And for some reason, the notion that a wolf could be born with such an abnormal palette threw the Ice King completely for a loop. Such pigment should be impossible on wolves; the only creatures Kershov had ever come across with such fantastic colors were birds and fish, and he deduced that only reflective material such as plumage or fish scales could hold a rainbow. But this boy, this bizarre lad who’d stumbled onto his borders filthy as a beggar, had been born like this? The term “Arcus Irae” flashed through one of Kershov’s ears and out the other. These words held no meaning for him. What on earth . . . was the young scamp trying to tell him that he was an entirely different species?

“You said . . . you said ‘my world.’ You mean a different . . . continent?” Kershov knew that Blossom Forest existed in a pocket entirely on its own, shielded and sustained by the magic that coursed through it. Yet he’d always assumed that everyone who ended up here came from the same plane. Is that all the stranger meant - that he hadn’t been born in Blossom Forest? A hearty huff whooshed from the frost dragon’s lungs. The tundra he used to rule might have been isolated, but Ker felt fairly certain he would have at least heard stories of rainbow wolves if they truly existed. The curiosity burning Kershov alive right now seemed too big to contain . . . except the frigid Czar had lived the majority of his life exerting an unparalleled level of self-mastery over himself, and he refused to slip up again and bombard the Arcus Irae with a stream of babbling questions.

The snowy Emperor nodded his head as Yuka continued explaining himself, the boy’s words never anything but respectful and matter-of-fact. At last, the rainbow rain out of words to say, and his bright eyes watched Kershov expectantly. Hopefully. Kershov’s narrow black gaze swept over him one more time, appraising him, before giving giving an affirmative grunt and angling his body as if to welcome Yuka past the border. “If you join Uyaraut, you’ll learn quickly what it’s like to comport yourself in a pack. It’s good you’re willing to learn - because we will teach you, and we expect you to work hard to meet our expectations. As far as being a ‘treasure’ for us . . . Uyaraut has no use for trinkets. You look different, but so do I. So do many of the wolves here. One of our members is a vampire, with red eyes that glow at night. We only harm curs that earn it. So don’t earn it.” Kershov ended his speech with a short, gruff growl, and turned to march back into his land’s interior. If Yuka wanted to follow him down the beach, he was welcome to . . . but he needed to make his decision fast.