The door to Azlearis was closed nearly every moon of the year, in fact, the door to Azlearis was closed nearly every year; however, for whatever reason, it chose to open on the 14th year of the Amara Malediction. It is said that the wolves came from whatever lay beyond Azlearis, that they descended from a place like a dream and lost their way through the Harkharlow woods.
Whatever the story, whatever the circumstance, whatever lies beyond the gates of Azlearis, one thing is certain...
... an Azlearian wolf is a bad omen.
The 21st Year of the Amara Malediction:
Spring -
Maloria knew she was going to be in trouble. Knew it the second she heard the branches behind her break and the low rumble of a growl, but most importantly, she knew her father's warnings by heart: keep calm, stay still, do not move.
The wolves were like curses personified, her father often said, and though she was too young to necessarily know what that meant, she knew she should pay attention to the words. Her father had never once let her down, never once led her astray.
A chill breeze blew pastel pink petals through the small clearing. It was far too cold to be natural. Maloria shut her eyes against the cold and shivered. She should have never wandered this far in the woods.
Another low growl rumbled through Maloria's ears; however, the sound had moved closer, and it no longer came from behind her. How could a wolf move so fast, and make so little noise? Maloria wondered, pressing her eyes tighter as she could somehow feel the wolf's eyes watching her.
Her father had warned her not to venture too far into the woods, lest she get lost... or eaten. Am I going to be eaten? Maloria shook at the thought, I'm not even eight years in age. Good children don't get eaten, right? That's what father always says. As Maloria began to tear up at the thoughts plaguing her mind, she felt a brush of fur against her palm, and then the reassuring touch of a small, wet nose.
Maloria's eyelashes fluttered open, a few tears slipping down her cheek. The wolf's head rested under her palm, its eerily dark eyes peering up at her. She patted the wolf's head cautiously, her dread easing as the seconds passed by.
The wolf didn't seem bad.
YOU ARE READING
Descent of Wolves
FantasyThe door to Azlearis almost never opens and almost no good can come from when it does. "The woods were a place of strange occurrences, of mystery and magic, and on more accounts than one: the woods were a place of fairy tales. The woods, while tendi...
