Chapter 2

My parents entrusted me with my very first mission when I hit the milestone of fourteen, a rite of passage that felt monumental at the time. The thrill mingled with unease as I embarked on that initial adventure. Then, just a year later, when I was fifteen, another mission came my way, bringing a rush of excitement laced with nervous anticipation. Now, as I stand on the brink of my sixteenth birthday, I find myself staring down the barrel of yet another daunting task. It seems inescapable, especially with my sister off on her own mission with our dad, leaving me without her steadfast presence to bask in the glow of her past achievements.

Oh, how I envy her! She seems almost legendary among the family—having kicked off her career of "kill counts" at the tender age of thirteen. With every story she tells, every boast about her experience, my own sense of inadequacy swells. True, I've managed to outshine her in training sessions; I can hold my own during sparring matches, deftly demonstrating my skills. But deep down, I know that those victories in the safety of our training ground pale in comparison to her real-world accomplishments: the scars, the tales of hunted beasts, the impressive tally of lives taken, all of which eclipse my mere potential.

With her gone, I feel the full weight of family expectations pressing upon me. The mission looms large, and not just any mission—it's a perilous task that requires me to confront an entire pack of wolves. I shudder to think of it, not least because, by blood and instinct, I am one of them. The conflict of my nature gnaws at me; how can I reconcile my identity with the grim duty ahead? To make matters worse, my father is absent. He isn't around to safeguard me from my mother's decision to send me on this perilous journey, and I can't even reach him to voice my fears and objections.

Thanks to Rule 8—the dreaded no-contact rule imposed on hunters during missions until completion—I'm left feeling utterly isolated. It's a rule designed to keep us focused, to prevent distractions, but how am I supposed to refocus when I'm facing something this monumental? The truly confounding part is that I always knew this day would eventually present itself; it's the nature of our family. But I genuinely believed I'd have more time to prepare, more time to grow, more time to figure out who I am beyond the whispers of my sister's achievements.

As I stand at this crossroads, uncertainty floods my thoughts. Despite the thrill that tingles at the back of my mind—the unmistakable call of adventure and challenge—I can't shake the creeping dread. How on earth am I supposed to slay a pack of wolves when I am so deeply entwined with their essence? The reality of this mission is fast approaching, and I feel both a twinge of fear and an undeniable pull to rise to the occasion. Will I conquer the challenges ahead, or will I falter and succumb to the legacy that looms over me? The answer lies just beyond my grasp, waiting to unfold in the wild unknown.