Scarred By Wolves
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The wolf. A vicious, dangerous, bloodthirsty creature. The creature and its destructive power are my name sake. I was attacked by a small pack as a child, while out with my father hunting. I survived, but just barely. I have many scars on my body, especially my face, even though it was was almost 11 years ago.

It was such an unusual experience. Despite the terror I felt, I also felt a sense of awe at the beauty and power of the creatures. But what really struck me was what happened next. Another wolf appeared. A much larger one. And this one was white. White as snow. It proceeded to kill the four wolves attacking me. It slaughtered them. Easily, quickly, cleanly. It had killed the last one just as my father and the other hunters showed up. They raised their bows to shoot the white wolf when I yelled for them to stop. They looked at me questioningly. "It saved me from the others." The white wolf growled for a second at the warriors, nudged me, and suddenly, it was gone. The white wolf had simply disappeared. It hadn't walked off, blended in with something, or run away. It had just disappeared.

It took several weeks, but eventually I got better enough to get back to daily life. The chief found the story very intriguing. He and our head shaman sat down and had a long talk. It was determined that, due to my recent experience, it was time for me to receive a new name. I would now be called Scarred by Wolves. At first, I wasn't particularly found of the name. It was an unpleasant reminder of what had happened. Of the pain I had felt. But after some time I realized it was more than that. It was a representation of my special bond with the wolf. Because while I had been badly scarred by wolves, I had also been saved by one. My life had been forever changed in more than one way, by a wolf.

The shaman came up to our house some time later. He asked to speak to my father and I. He told us that he believed the wolf who saved me was actually a guardian spirit. My guardian spirit. The spirit had appeared to save me. From that moment on, I devoted myself to the way of the wolf spirit. The guardian spirits are each related to a type of what we call medicine. The way of the wolf is the way of war medicine.

War medicine. That meant my future was pretty much sealed. I was going to become a warrior. Not a shaman, not a scout, a warrior. So from then on, I started on the path to becoming a Cherokee brave. I have been fighting and protecting my tribe as a warrior since I was about 16. I fought off the enemies of my tribe and the Cherokee people. I did so until I was 22.

Then I started a new path. The Cherokee tribe is part of the Coyote Confederation. The Confederation is a group of five of the major Indian tribes who side and fight together (mostly). When I turned 22, I was sent by the Cherokee leaders in the Confederation to help as a scout for the Army of the Confederate States of America. My time with the Confederate Army lasted about two years.

Then it was time for yet another journey. It was time to strike out against another threat to the Cherokee and the Confederation. Many Indians are familiar with what happened in 1863. But sadly, the creatures that were meant to help the Indian reclaim his lost land aren't necessarily discriminating. Most of them see no difference in skin tone. Or in who made the decision to open the door to them. It became apparent the Indians needed to take a closer look into the abominations. And possibly start dealing with them. I had seen many odd things fighting with the Confederates. My experiences made a decent choice. I was told to strike out West in search of a group of people who gained some attention for dealing in this sort of thing. Well, mostly attention with the Texas Rangers, since one of them was a Ranger. The Confederation had gone to the Rangers in search of someone to set me up with. This Ranger and his associates have dealt with some… unnatural threats. So I am setting out West to find them.

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