Within

Prologue

We all have wolves inside of us.

It wasn't always like that. There was a time, centuries ago, in which wolves and men had nothing to do with each other, when our teeth were blunt and we didn't look at the moon like she was our Mother.

Just like every ancient story there are dozens of legends about the First Shifter, differing across the packs.

Some say it was a king so drunk on bloodshed that the Goddess made him a beast that walked on four legs instead of two.

Some say it was a boy shunned from his village who went to live in the forest with the wolves, and later, by the Goddess' blessing, became one of their own.

And some say it was the Red Woman.

The Red Woman lived many centuries ago in a little nameless village by the edge of the forest. She cared for her grandmother, the only family she had, with diligence and devotion. They both lived a simple but happy life.

Until one day came a huntsman.

He proclaimed his love for the Red Woman, he followed her through the streets of the village claiming he would be the best husband she could ever hope for. He told her about the great house he intended to build for them both; boasted about the fancy gowns he would dress her with; declared loudly how many beautiful children they would have together.

She refused him. Repeatedly.

The huntsman of course laughed. She sure wasn't understanding! That would be the life of her dreams! Never again she would have to worry about money or food, only about keeping her husband satisfied. She would live a happy life.

The Red Woman didn't budge. She had a happy life already. The only love she needed was that of her grandmother.

The huntsman kept pursuing her, undeterred. A happy life? Living in that shabby cottage and counting pennies while caring for an old hag? Would she choose that over him?

His patience running thin, the huntsman went into the woods, into their cottage, and murdered the woman's grandmother. Surely now, with no loved ones left she would let herself be taken by him!

The woman, ridden with grief and anger, spat and cursed at the huntsman.

He wouldn't have it.

Choleric, he attacked her with all the viciousness he could summon. And when he was done he left her, within an inch of her life, bleeding in the forest.

That's when the Goddess took pity on the woman. Before she could die, Alora herself descended from the night sky and gave her a second chance.

The Goddess covered her with dense fur, as red as the pool of blood they were standing in; gave her four legs instead of two, so she would never again be outrun by those who wished her harm; and fangs sharper than even the huntsman's axe.

That same night the Red Woman returned to her little nameless village and tore him apart with her teeth and claws.

From then on the wolves that live inside of us awoke, breaking through our skin and baring their blood stained teeth.

Generations later we all became moon-worshipers. Honoring Alora for the gift she bestowed upon us.

That was the story I heard from the woman who was my mother in all the ways that matter. On some nights she would place me on her lap and run her fingers through my hair, undoing the braid she herself had worked so hard on that morning.

"Remember May: the Goddess is good. It is not because you have faced hardship that she abandoned you, quite the contrary, I'd say."

I would raise my eyes at her, for at the time I still had two, trying to memorize the serene expression she was wearing, basking on her warmth and her love.

"Keep your faith, my child, and she will care for you the moment you need it most."

She used to tell me that story just like any other fairy-tale: You see, little one? There is a lesson in the end! The gods are just! Those who do bad deeds pay the price!

And maybe the lesson she wasn't trying to teach me, but i learned all the same.

When there is no justice, you resort to revenge.