Wolves of Song

Let's Start At the Beginning

I wasn’t always cursed with this more human side of me. As a matter of fact, I hate having my soul split into to. I was born to a pack in the northern mountains in eastern Canada. I was born with a brother and a sister both of which bore lighter colors than me and were obviously larger. In actuality, I was blessed with my mother’s dire wolf blood. I know what you’re saying, ‘but dire wolves are extinct!’, don’t worry, we’ll get there soon enough. Either way, I was born pitch black, the only thing that separated me from the night were the small russet markings that riddles my fur and were barely noticeable at this time. My brother was born with that signature gray wolf hide and my sister? Well my sister was born beautiful. Her fur was that of powder blue, a light gray tinged with blue hues in the sunlight. I was the strange factor of the family and in the pack, I was often picked on. I was different, I was smaller, stouter, but my eyes were what made me the outcast. You’ve heard of wolves with amber eyes, wolves with blue eyes even, but you’ve never heard of a wolf with crimson eyes. Well, that was me. So let’s see, first off I’ve got black fur while my parents are grey and white and now I’ve got these dark, brooding red eyes that no one has witnessed previous to this? My birth set me up for failure. Oh, it gets worse, soon enough the black magik rumors reached us in Canada, the sweeping and killing of wolves of strange because of their abilities that could not be explained and guess what juvenile was first at the top of that list? You guessed it, me. That summer marked my death. I was two years old. I was barely old enough to be called an adult and I was murdered without proof that I was even anything dark. Well, luckily for my family they did what they did because unknown to everyone at that time, I was the soul of darkness itself.

That brings us to my current life. I was born in 1990 on the outskirts of a small town in Georgia. This is the part where my soul split and my human life began. It felt like I was literally being torn apart and shoved into the small bundle of nerves, skin, and bright eyes. I entered the world with a sharp, hair splitting scream and from then on everything started. I lived out the first two years of my life without a peep, my wolf side and all of its past was pushed aside and I spent my time learning how to be human, learned how to talk, learned my colors. I was learning how to live again and use these new limbs in a world so different from this point of view. Then, at the tottering age of three I witnessed my first snow fall. At two in the morning. Me being the stupid kid I was skittered out of my back door in my footie pajamas and meandered out into the forests that my unrestrained yard opened to. This was when my wolf senses awoken, this exact moment, my eyes opened for the first time and my paws touched the floor for the first time. Figuratively speaking of course, but at this moment the threads began to weave the two pieces together, quite horribly but it was a good enough patch job. Of course, since I am not a wolf at this time and I’m only three years old, I got lost. The feelings that were coursing through my veins and the strange smells with the itch of fur that wasn’t there were confusing to me, frightening even. With nowhere to go and the chill of snow biting at my bones I ended up curled into a ball at the base of an evergreen tree. Above me, the moonlight filtered weakly through the trees, dappling the forest floor. I whimpered, too weak to make a noise and too confused to care. My soul was older than my body and even it didn’t understand, the new limbs, the new mind, the colors, the sounds, nothing made sense and I couldn’t quite get a grip of the mechanics. Besides that, hypothermia was beginning to set in bringing a bluish hue to my fair skin and a chatter to my teeth. My body was done, well past it’s breaking point and I honestly should have died. Yet, from the shadows of the trees my savior came and revived my numb skin. From the darkness, the wolf stepped, long thick black fur coating her capable frame and majestic looking red markings riddling through her fur. In that black mass, two bright red orbs gazed out at me with warmth and love, but not much of a pupil. Around her large black paws orbs of shifting light played with one another, dancing around her as she padded near me. Though her muzzle didn’t move I heard her words clearly, ‘Don’t be afraid, I have you now, you’ll be okay’. The fae repeated her words constantly as she weaved her warm body around mine, nudging me with her nose to burrow into her fur which I gladly did. Eventually, I drifted off with the words of my mother lingering in my mind and woke up the next morning sound asleep in my bed. That was many, many years ago, but that was the first encounter in this life time I had with my mother. However, it was most certainly not my last. Over the years, she and some of the other gods taught me how to control some of the sun spectrum, how to speak with the elements and gave me knowledge of different herbs. Somehow though, I’ve drifted past all of that even though my wolf soul still claws at my feeble human skin. It’s a constant battle between the past and the present. My duty and my abilities. There’s a warm shadow that looms over me, it never passes, just keeps me under it’s dark umbrella.