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Summary
There was no recorded history that could pinpoint the exact moment in time when spirit animals started showing up on people’s skin or if they had always been there. The vague scientific explanation that was offered to keep the masses complacent was that the manifestation of one’s spirit animal depended on one’s soul, that if you were good and kind and driven, your spirit animal would show up quickly and whole, and if you misbehaved and were undisciplined and lazy, you wouldn’t be able to draw strength from your spirit animal until you were old and grey.
Little Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich was a mischievous boy, and he knew it. He specifically chose to misbehave so he wouldn’t have to deal with the type of spirit animal that would inevitably show up on his skin one day. He was proud to have control over at least this part of his life: one insignificant part of his miserable young life as the youngest Milkovich boy. He didn’t need a spirit animal to save him, to help him, to guide him to his life’s purpose or something stupid like that.
Until one day, trouble found him in the shape of a teenage redhead with a crowbar.