Birth of the Shadow

He was born to Tanga and Galgwin in the dead of a moonless night. On that night, a black panther was seen prowling around the village. The trolls believed this to be a sign from the spirits, but of what they did not know. The village witch doctor said it was a sign that the babe would bring evil juju and voodoo spirits upon the village, and demanded the babe’s death. The village shaman, however, had a different opinion.

All trolls were sent out to the jungles for a single week in hopes they could determine their animal guides. The trolls were normally sent at the tender age of five, and none were expected to return alive. The first animal the youngsters came across was believed to have been sent by the spirits to test the troll. The trolls were required to spend at least one full day within arm’s reach of the animal. If they survived the experience, they returned to the village to report the animal’s location. The tribe’s hunters then slaughtered the animal, so the young troll may eat its heart and gain its strength. The animal’s spirit then became the troll’s guardian and guide.

The trolls had a prophecy. Every fifty years, a troll would be born on a moonless night. When that troll went to seek his animal guide, he would encounter a black panther. The panther was a swift and intelligent hunter, along with being entirely nocturnal. The panther hunted and ate its prey often in complete darkness. A hunter of shadows. It is said that the troll who ate a panther’s heart and tamed the panther’s spirit would become the legendary Hunter of Shadows, the being who moved with the ultimate speed and stealth. Like a black panther, once you realized the troll was there, you would be dead.

The witch doctor and shaman argued for three days and three nights. All three nights the panther prowled. A hunter was sent to subdue the beast, but never returned. Galgwin, the babe’s father, was told to place the babe out in the jungle on the fourth night. Surely, the panther would find the babe, and regular panther or not, it would either eat the babe or remain curious enough to stay beside it for the night. Either way, the answer would be known.

Tanga and Galgwin were up the entire night in worry, fearing they would here the babe’s last cry of terror. And yet, no sounds were heard. None, for the panther was respected and feared by the jungle itself, and none of the creatures dared to alert the panther to their locations. The night went one, but still no cry was heard. Then, as the sun crested the horizon, the village awakened to a strange and unusual sight.

The babe was resting by the village fire pit. And curled up next to him was the black panther.
There was no doubt to the babe’s destiny. The hunters wasted no time, and the panther was killed in its sleep. Its pelt was taken and presented to Tanga as a gift. Tanga spent a solid month praying to the spirits in thanks for this miracle and privelage. Galgwin made a soup of the panther’s heart and proudly spoon-fed his son, muttering his name all the while. “Klept,” he said. “Someday, yoo be a great warria!”