“You are both too kind. In exchange for your kindness, I would like to offer you a gift in return.” Wisakachek said.
“Yes. I’d like to offer you the power to hunt for your tribe without the fear of being hunted yourself.”
“And how do you propose that? Are you a magical medicine man or something?” Matchitehew chuckled.
“Something like that, yes.” Wisakachek said with a smile as he continued, “I am the spirit god who is the guardian over an ancient and magical art known as shape-shifting.”
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