The wolf-mother was exhausted from the birth. Her litter of only three pups had taken a long time to come into the world, and without the rest of the pack to protect her, it had been a precarious affair. She looked out at the melting snow, panting with exhaustion. The pups, still blind, shuffled near her. They would probably not make it.
~
The early winter had been good, with plenty of prey in their territory and the entire pack had put on weight to better face the cold nights in the white north of the Schattenwald. As the mating period neared, and frost tightened it's grip on the world, circumstances quickly became more dire. Prey was scarce, and a strange creature roamed the woods, leaving deep furrows of disturbed snow and half-eaten carcasses. It's lingering smell spoke of something unnatural, driving animals away.
The pack moved, not wanting to face this monster. They headed south, into the lands where the creatures that stood on two legs and build caves out of wood lived. After a long journey with little to prey on, they had shed much of their winter fat, and the night's cold bit at them as they huddled for warmth.
They ranged far from their den, searching for any sign of food. But even the milder weather here was a snow-covered bareness. There was little to hunt, save for the occasional rabbit or injured bird. They burned the rest of their fat in ranging far across this new land. Desperation was setting in. The she-wolf lay amid the rest of the pack, their den silent. She could feel her pups growing inside her, demanding more and more nourishment. She was giving them all she had, but soon that would not be enough.
Their luck changed a while later, when one of their number found a flock of sheep near the wooden caves. There were even thick wooden sticks surrounding the sheep to stop them from fleeing! The she-wolf was now in the middle of her pregnancy, and desperate for sustenance. Time had run out, and the easy prey was a blessing.
At night, they attacked. Stalking through the unfamiliar forest on silent paws, they glided past the wooden cave. Light came from inside, meaning fire. The two-legs had a way with fire. They could create and control it somehow. The pack silently passed the wooden cave, sticking to the shadows. Above, the moon reflected a pale silver light to make the late winter snow sparkle.
The sheep shifted uneasily, bleating softly while huddling in the large wooden cave made just for them. As one, the pack streaked across the field, under the fence, and jumped through the open window of the barn. Panic scattered the sheep in all directions, causing a cacophony of hoarse bleating. The she-wolf pounced on a lamb, sinking her teeth into it's neck and feeling it snap. A panicking sheep bumped into her and she lunged at it, catching it's leg even as it desperately tried to kick her. A moment later another wolf snapped down on it's neck, ripping out a large chunk of flesh.
Behind the noise of the sheep, voices could be heard. The two-legs were on their way! The she-wolf started ripping meat out of the lamb, swallowing as fast as she could. The doors to the barn were flung open and a group of two-legs barged in, carrying fire. The sheep streamed out, bumping one of the two-legs to the ground in their rush.
The she-wolf growled even as she bit down on another sheep. One of the two-legs raised a long stick and pointed it at her mate. A soft click sounded, then a sound like thunder overwhelmed her senses. She and the rest of the pack cowered at the sudden sound. Danger! This was danger! As she turned to run she noticed the body of her mate on the ground, whimpering. Danger! She jumped out of the window and vanished into the night. Shouts faded behind her. Blood on her tongue. Cold air and white snow. Two wolves at her side, fleeing. Into the night, into the forest. Away.
They fled for the next few days. The two-legs chased them into the forest, and barely gave them time to hunt or sleep driving them from den to den. The two-legs fell behind often, but never seemed to stop, always catching up to them. Eventually, after a week of flight, the two-legs seemed to give up. Exhausted, hungry and cold, the pack broke up. They had a better chance of finding prey alone, and the she-wolf was close to birth. Her pups would need much sustenance if they were to survive. Normally a whole pack would hunt to feed the young, but this was not to be.
She tried to hunt, but there was not much to find. The two-legs had settled this region of the forest and there were more and more of them roaming around. Occasionally, she would find areas where the trees were missing, only stumps remaining, with no sight of the rest of the tree. She found small prey, snow rabbits and the occasional injured bird. Not nearly enough. She hunted until she could no longer move, her skin tight against her bones.
Exhausted, she returned to her cave to give birth. She almost didn't make it. When she came to, three little pups were suckling on her teats. She barely had any milk to give.
When she could walk, she carried her pups to the back of the cave and left. It went against all her instincts, but if she couldn't feed them, they would certainly die. Desperate, she stalked through the woods for anything to eat.
She spotted a snow rabbit, nibbling on a berry bush, half-uncovered by the melting snow. Normally, a pack would surround the prey, but her trembling legs was all she had. She stalked closer. Desperation fighting against the urge to attack. One paw lifted, silently moved forward and gently parted the snow. Another step closer. Another. She was almost close enough to lunge, when the rabbit raised it's ears. She froze as it stood upright, big blue eyes scanning he forest.
They each started simultaneously. She lunged, the rabbit dashed. She gave chase and the rabbit fled, running zig zag through the snow, sending clumps of frozen dirt flying, dodging under roots and into bushes. She was not going to make it. Maybe if she had been well fed and rested... Not when her every breath came with effort, and her legs landed unsteadily with every step. The rabbit disappeared, and she stood alone, panting in the snow.
When she returned to her cave, one of the pups had crawled out, blind as it was, and lay there at the entrance, dead.
She let the remaining two pups suck as much milk as she could manage, and slept with them to give them heat. They were still blind and could barely walk, completely helpless and dependent on her. Her breath came heavy in the night and she shivered when the air, sharp with frost, gusted into the cave.
The next day she left two pups behind, roaming in a different direction. The snow had almost completely melted, and bright patches of green stuck out of the muddy ground. Small rivers were forming, carrying the melting snow downhill. A scent of wet earth wafted through the forest, signaling the coming of warmer days. A few birds sang in the trees, but little moved closer to the ground.
She happened across a carcass, uncovered by the melting snow. She sniffed it, cautiously examining it for edibility. Too rotten, even for her empty stomach. Moving on, she took a winding route, trying to catch a scent. It took her a few hours until the faint smell of something other than dirt and trees teased her nose. A potent smell, purple and brown, clung on a tree root. She followed it for a good while, making her way downhill. In the distance, she saw one of the wooden caves, solitary in the middle of the forest.
Luckily, the trail veered off and led to the entrance of a narrow cave. She sniffed, making out multiple scents woven into the whole. Silently, she crept into the darkness of the cave. The smell of prey was strong; fresh. He fine nose drank in the scent as her muscles readied for sudden violence.
A shrill sound pierced the enclosed space. A high-pitched squeal of rage as the two adult boars stomped towards her. Behind them, five piglets cowered in the corner, laying on a bed of twigs and grass. The two adults stomped and made charging feints towards her. She backed up slowly, keeping an eye on the much larger animals. Outside she might have caught a piglet, or in a pack they might have tracked the family of boars. In a small space, attacking would end up with her inured, which was the same as death.
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Her hunger was an incessant demand, warring with her instincts for self-preservation. She retreated, snapping and growling, then made her way back towards her den. She found only a half-eaten badger carcass, which was fresh enough for her starving stomach. She returned to her cave and only fed the larger of her pups. The other she pushed away as it tried to suckle.
The next morning it wasn't dead yet, but lay unmoving. She nuzzled the larger pup, who was still mobile but lethargic, and left the cave. There was little prey to be found in this territory, and the last easy prey had been near a wooden cave with the two-legs. Her destination set, she headed towards the wooden cave downhill.
She traveled quickly, urged on by an empty stomach and a desperate maternal instinct to save her last pup. Keeping her nose low she tried to spot any trails that crossed her path, but only old smells passed her by. Soon enough she could see the wooden cave in the distance. It was a strange construction, with a patch of land next to it filled with various colorful plants and herbs. As she neared, the plant life changed dramatically. The trees became more twisted, their branches arching above to create a crisscrossing dome of wood. The flowers grew in small patches and the weeds left clear paths of earth, even though there were very few footprints to justify the bare ground.
As she approached the wooden cave, a feeling of unease raised her hackles. A gigantic tree grew leaning over the wooden cave, in full bloom, even in the late winter. And the flowers in the small patch of land next to the tree were also vibrant, as if untouched by the winter frost. As she stalked closer, the air began to warm up and by the time she had crossed the small fence rounding the place, the temperature had reached late spring.
A white goat stood in the field next to the cottage. Tied to a post by a long string, it chewed on a ball of green grass. Careful steps brought her closer. The goat raised it's head to fix her with it's square pupils. Unconcerned, it went back to chewing. She took another step closer. By now she was close enough to the wooden cave that she could see inside through one of the holes in the side. Something was making noises inside. A clattering and murmuring drifted from the hole. An unconcerned sound, fitting with the unusually warm breeze.
She glimpsed a look at an elderly two-legs, white hair and a black dress. Fear shot through her, quick as one of the two-leg's weapons. The two-legs looked old and frail, but all her instincts screamed for her to run. This was the domain of a powerful being, in disguise as the two-legs! Frustrated at the missed meal, the she-wolf left the goat behind as she fled, keeping her head low and taking the road away from the lair of the witch.
She continued for a few more minutes, making sure that nothing had followed her. The cold wind returned as she gained some distance from the strange place, but the road was clear of snow, winding it's way further south. Leaving the road, she lay under a tree, her legs trembling half of starvation and half of exhaustion. She was getting weaker. Without a pack to hunt, she would soon not be able to catch anything, dooming both her and her last remaining pup to starvation.
She breathed quickly and shallowly, trying to convince her body that it could still serve her. That her legs were merely tired instead of weak, that a light rest would make up for moving more by burning will than fat. Her eyes roamed the treeline for prey by instinct, the nature of a predator.
A strange shape peeked through the trees, a flash of red that disappeared behind a tree in the distance. Her yellow eyes scanned the dense forest. Again, the red something flashed through a gap in the treeline. She crouched lower, eyes fixed on the shape that was clearly approaching. A few moments later a small two-legs walked down the bend in the road, a red fabric covering her head and upper body. The two-legs was also carrying a container of sorts, with delicious smells rising from it. The she-wolf slowly and silently moved forward, inching closer to intercept her prey on it's path. It was alone, and she didn't sense any of the same danger the older one had exuded.
The little two-legs walked on, oblivious of the stalking wolf. It was making noises as it walked, in a crude imitation of bird song. The red-hooded two-legs reached the ambush spot.
It startled as it spotted her, but a short scream was all it managed before she sank her teeth into it's throat. It stopped struggling shortly after. Relief flooded the she-wolf. This was not a large kill, but it would last for a few days at least and her pup would have sustenance. She stood for a moment, panting in exertion, even this quick kill enough to tire her.
The ground under her exploded, sending earth and stone flying. She struggled but could not move as thick roots wound themselves around her limbs and painfully constricted her throat. A storm seemed to be blasting through the woods, trees bending and leaves being stripped from branches. Snow whipped up into flurries, then parted as the old two-legs from before rode the gale, landing next to the red-hooded two-legs. The elder's face contorted into a mask of rage as she shrieked. The grass around them seemed to wilt and bow down to the enraged witch.
The she-wolf could only struggle feebly as the roots held her in place. The witch continued her cries, howling as she fell to the ground next to the little girl. Tears were falling from her face and strange lights glinted in her eyes. Then the eyes found the she-wolf.
"You! You killed my little Red!" a hand contorted in rage pointed at the she-wolf and the roots began to tighten. Pain lanced through her as bones snapped, but she could do nothing but howl, echoing the cries of the witch.
Leaves whirled in the air, forming figures as new voices sounded in the wind.
"Release the wolf, Ertha. You cannot punish an animal for its nature."
The elder two-legs snarled at the incorporeal figure. "It killed my little Red. My little girl is dead!" A blast of wind scattered the leaves making up the figure, but it soon reformed.
As second voice spoke up, older and cracked.
"You know your oaths Ertha. You cannot punish an unknowing beast."
Eyes filled with madness looked down at the wolf-mother. "Then I shall give it Knowing. It shall **know** what is has done."
The cries of protest from the figures surrounding them were snatched away in the gale that rose to whip at both the witch and the wolf. The roots rose higher, carrying the wolf with them, while also gently raising the body of the little girl from the ground.
The old witch pointed her finger at the wolf and pronounced with bitter words:
"I curse you! I curse you with **knowing**-"
A sharp pain burrowed into the wolf's head.
"- that you might know what you have done."
The pain was everywhere.
"I curse you! I curse you with **life**."
The broken bones of the wolf mended, only to break again under the tightening roots.
"I curse you! I curse you to carry the form of my little girl..."
The corpse of the girl floated towards the wolf, and where it met the wolf, both bodies melded, fading into each other.
"So that every time your see your reflection, you will know **what your have taken from me**!"
The two bodies, girl and wolf, merged. The wolf felt it`s body split into two, yet still remain one, a phantom body that occupied the same space as hers, sensations overlapping in a disorientating torrent.
The witch slumped to the ground, the roots dying, cracking, turning to rot in seconds. The she-wolf lay in the dirt, unable to stand, her mind flooded with an overload of alien sensations.
The voices around them raised in an angry chorus.
"Ertha! You have broken your vow, and abused your power. You know your judgment."
The still weeping witch shuddered, bending backwards as her skin turned hard, bark growing over her body. One last cackling laugh echoed before all that was left of her was a lone tree in the middle of the road. The strangely peaceful scene held for a moment.
The wolf lay under the twisted old tree, as if having laid down in the shade to sleep away an afternoon.
The tree burst into flames, startling the she-wolf who ran away into the forest. The greedy flames consumed the tree, leaving nothing but ash, and finally even that was carried away by the breeze.
The figure made of wind looked down to the immolated tree, and the direction of the she-wolf.
"We will not interfere with the wolf further. But we should see what we can salvage from this mess."
The she-wolf fled, stumbling over roots and rocks, her limbs not working as she was used to. They were either too long or too short, too soft or too hard. It seemed to her that they kept changing shape. She would look down and see soft pink flesh, then fur and claws. Her height kept changing as well, making her stumble and fall. Her scrapes couldn't have been so bad because every time she raised her hands to her face they were unblemished.
Her hands? She stopped her wild flight. Soft pink flesh, ending in fine long fingers. What insanity was this? She found a puddle and looked down. The face of a two-legs looked back at her. She growled at it and it growled back. She was not safe, they were after her! She ran and ran through the forest. She ran on all fours, the on two legs, the weird motion coming naturally.
Above, a sickle moon slowly rose to hang in the night sky. The pale light chased her.
She fled the witch, she fled her strange new form and she fled her pounding head that kept coming up with words for things that didn't need them.
Like murder.
Like killer.
Eventually, after hours of flight, she found a hollow tree. Stumbling and barely conscious, she fell in and curled up in it's trunk. There, exhausted, she fell asleep.