ODAYLA: THE HUNT FOR THE GREAT BEAR

In the time before memory, Orlanth wandered beyond the steads and into the wild places. There he glimpsed something vast and unknowable, a creature he could never catch. But when he grew weary, it was that being who caught him. Her name was Velhara, the Lady of the Wild. She held no spear, but she did not let go.

Together they denned, and she bore him two cubs. One had his face and voice, and Orlanth claimed him as Ormalaya. The other was wild and growled. Orlanth turned away. Velhara named that child Odayla and raised him among beasts and shadows.

Odayla lived wild. He hunted the Boar, the Crane, the Hare, the Snake—and each taught him something: when to strike, when to be still, when to vanish, when to endure. He grew strong, wise, silent. But one question haunted him: why was he the only creature without a father?

He asked Velhara. She said, “You have one. But he left when he saw your shape.” He asked, “Can I make him see me?” She said, “They won’t accept your wild nature in the stead.”

So Odayla left the deep wilds and wandered toward the place of kin. Spirits met him—some offering speech, some ritual, some upright form. He took what he would. Refused what he must. Nothing filled the space inside.

Then he found a sign. A track too wide, too deep, too old to follow. He had hunted everything—but not this. The Great Bear.

He followed it across forests, seasons, dreams. He became invisible to people, then beasts, then even gods. He read the trails that snow forgot. But he never caught it.

Until one night, a print appeared behind him—matching his own. The wind died. The Bear was behind him now. He was being hunted.

He fled. He hid. He waited. At last, he stood still.

Then came the fire. Then came the Bear.

They wrestled—god and beast, self and shadow. In the end, one took the skin of the other. Others argue over who won, but Odayla’s followers know: there were never two beings to begin with.

He returned to the stead, cloaked in fur. Orlanth did not know him. Ormalaya greeted him as a stranger. But when Odayla spoke Velhara’s name, truth stirred in their bones. Ormalaya stepped forward and removed the skin. Orlanth saw his son.

Odayla faced two choices. He could stay in the stead with his father and brother, or he could return to the wilds with his mother.

He chose the third path, the path between.

Odayla stayed with his father. He taught the people the ways of silence and motion, how to take only what was needed.   He taught his brother the secret of how to return the souls of prey to the forest.

Then he left again.  The wild was familiar, but not the same. The creatures no longer fled. The spirits watched with new eyes. He was no longer just part of the wild.

He was the path between.

He was Odayla.