The Changing Ceremony

20,000 years ago

Ranak, thirteen, sits cross-legged with six others, three boys and three girls, around a circle. His heart pounds in sync with the steady drumming from the hands of five drummers dressed in wolf skins. The rhythmic pounding is loud, insistent, filling his head. It vibrates through the ground, fills his mind, and echos his heart beat. The sound wraps around him like a cocoon.

Earlier he considered getting up and going no further. The elders told him there is always a choice. But to decide not to change means deciding to live as a burden to the tribe. As horrible as that would be, it doesn’t begin to compare to the humiliation of failing to change.
Now, he finds himself unable to move, his mind unable to grasp a clear thought. He has the fleeting thought that not being able to move should scare him into a panic, but even that thought is drawn away by the drums.

At the center of the circle, wood is set for a large fire, about four feet in diameter. The initiates are seated evenly spaced around the circle leaving four spaces, one at the North, one at the South, and at the East, and West. These spaces are for the wolf spirits who will join the ceremony when they are called. His best friends Lyall and Zella sit across from him, their faces stark, with a hint of fear.
The initiates must sit perfectly still, not looking to the side. If anyone should even twitch, one of the two warriors who are outside the circle, hits him or her across the back with a leather strap, hard enough to hurt. Silence and stoicism are expected from the initiate, even in the face of pain

After hours of sitting, Ranak’s back is aching, and his legs feel numb. The prickling “pins and needles” sensation make him want to shift, even if only slightly, to ease the discomfort, but he remains absolutely still. After fasting for two days, his stomach cramps with hunger.
The late fall night is cold with a full moon, a hunter’s moon. Wet herbs, cedar, and sage crackle as the shaman drops them on the fire. The air is thick with smoke and the sharp, earthy scent of burning herbs and wood. Ranak’s eyes water, and he shivers from the cold.

The seven initiates are naked, their bare skin painted with figures of wolves, evoking protection and strength. A parent or older sibling painted the symbols, a tradition that binds them to their lineage and ancestors. Tonight, under the full, watchful moon, they are to receive the wisdom of their people, guided by the ancient rituals. After tonight, they will hunt as wolves.

The shaman, with eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, is dressed in a grey wolf skin with a wolf’s head covering his own. Underneath the skin, he is naked. The wolf’s eyes glint as he moves around the circle, chanting low, haunting verses. Seven warriors also wearing wolf skins join him in the circle.
When darkness falls upon them, the fire is lit, and the wolf warriors begin to dance and call the wolves. They expect both spirits and real wolves to answer their call.

On the neck of each initiate is a medicine bag on a leather thong. The medicine bag contains peyote pellets. When the shaman signals Ranak, along with the others puts the pellets into his mouth. They are dry and pungent, making his mouth feel drier until enough saliva is generated to swallow. Some of the initiates will see the spirits come and sit in the vacant places. Yowls are heard from wolves who are gathering in response to the howling and chanting in the circle. When the moon rises, the warriors all begin to change back and forth from human to wolf.

The flames cast fleeting shadows of wolves and warriors onto the ground. Hints of motion play just at the edge of Ranak’s vision. He feels himself sinking into a trance, the line between himself and his ancestors blurring. He recalls the stories he’s heard—the deeds of warriors and hunters, of wolves, and of the spirits that guide and protect them.

The fire crackles louder, and a low howl seems to rise from the flames. One by one, the initiates lift their voices, echoing the shaman’s cry, their voices merging with the night air, Ranak feels a weight lift, a sense of connection that leaves him breathless. The circle feels eternal, bound by fire, earth, and spirit.

Suddenly he finds himself standing on 4 legs. He is covered in fur, and no longer feels cold. Odors assault his nose. He smells the owl sitting on a nearby tree branch but classifies it as not something to hunt. He smells the deer in the forest and hears it chewing on acorns. It takes effort to repress the urge to give chase. He can smell each person in the circle and identifies each one without looking. He can see clearly into the nearby forest. Instead of being shrouded in darkness, it appears lit from within.

Looking around the circle, he realizes he is not the only one who has changed. In the center, instead of the shaman and seven warriors there are now eight large wolves. Around the circle, instead of seven human initiates, now seven smaller wolves stand. When the adults, all in wolf form break out of the circle and begin to run, Ranak follows, glorying in his strength and how exhilarating it feels to run next to his friends.
His grandfather told him the two most important moments in your life are the day you were born and the moment you know why. Tonight he was reborn as a wolf, and he knows this is what he was intended ti be. This is the most important night of his life.