Bred For Extinction

A Cursed Land

The night has been silent except for the occasional shake of a rattlesnake's tail and the scurrying of resting lizards as Mochan and Cianna 's steps approach what she has singled out as their destination. Now, not long after crossing the border between the new and old worlds does the small outcropping of structures grace Cianna's eyes and she knows she is again home.

"We are here," her voice puffs in relief as a sigh lingers on her breath.

Mochan's expression shows a mixture of confusion and aggravation in expectation of more. Still, he walks by her side awaiting something deeper.

Cianna comforts, sensing her partner's confusion, " Do not worry wolf. Here you will learn much...not all...but much." In her words is a sense of happiness, in her steps is a denotation of joy as unprotected feet brush over cactuses without pain, leaving slight impressions on the dry soil.

Closer they trod, bringing the village more into both of their sights. Small frail shacks adorn the distance, made of broken concrete and rotting timber. Property is marked off by half buried mesquite trucks wrapped with barbed wire, while many structures are much more meager consisting of only sticks and thatch for homes.

There appears only one entrance as they approach along the path, and it is extremely bare, consisting of a short ten-foot bridge that crosses over a dry crevice in the scorched earth. Yet, while the crevice is not more than a body length deep, the bridge seems the natural course to follow. Nothing special exists here, except a tiny trickle of water that barely soaks the soil as it flows through the gap under the bridge. Cianna pauses halfway over the small ravine, her eyes distant with long forgotten memories.

"You stop here for a reason?" Mochan questions with an eagerness to continue.

"Perhaps...this bare impression in the ground that we now stand over...it was once so wonderful. It was once such a strong flow of water that gave survival to this community."

"I understand. I only asked because I had heard stories that your kind have certain problems crossing running water, or even places where running water once existed?" Mochan's eyes squint slightly, wondering of the answer.

"Please, these are pure fables. Simple stories created to give false hope and protection to humans. Crosses, garlic, running water, and silver are not our weaknesses. We have but two thorns...one is sunlight and the other is your species. The rest is myth, designed propaganda of the masters. But you will understand more as we continue and I explain deeper."

Her steps continue on with Mochan close to her side, " You see, long before I spent my mortal days growing here, this empty crevice that we cross was a gushing life spring for the people of this land. Crops grew, cattle nurtured, and the natives were self-sufficient. The people here were all my family...my mortal blood. Each held their own parcel of land to either plant food or raise animals. Males would marry others from close villages and move here to allow the human bloodline to stay fresh. It was a time when the land flourished under my family's surname of Trevino." She pauses hard as the name of her human family strikes her, "I had almost forgot that name," a quick smirk graces her lips. "Nevertheless, through it all did my ancestors practice the old ways, the old religion. Modern people would call them pagans," again she halts, her vision scanning Mochan's features before she continues, "witches...if you prefer." Her pause is long and dramatic."Still, hard times began long before I was born. Even though I am older than any human could dream of existence, I am still a whelp in the eyes of those that I have become. What I relate now is what my ancestors passed down through time. They spoke of our protectors...and that when a howl broke the silence of the night, all knew it was safe. One night, however, the howls ended. Many spoke that the gods were angry, but the elders knew different. They knew of the war between the upstart vampires and the elder witches. It was clear to them that a victor had prevailed, and as all loomed in uncertainty, rumors spread that witches and wolves alike, which still survived, were flying into hiding. The elders held counsel and after long debate decided to remain here, under the shadow of 'El Cielo de la Silla', the great saddle mountain."

Their feet travel over the bridge, eyes surveying the surroundings as Cianna's breaths come in longing of past times. "When I was born here, times were desperate. The river was but a trickle, as it is now. The crops were dry and the cattle were not only starving, but were being sucked dry of their blood in the night. The youth of the village blamed the old religion, while the old blamed the vampire. Still, there was no true evidence of the vampire until I had reached almost 10 years of age. It was about then that the first devil child showed its presence here."

The dirt road before them winds with curves as they follow the path, Mochan in silence as Cianna continues on and on in past memories, " I had an uncle born of the old ways...born with the mark of a star on the roof of his mouth. It was said he could heal any with but the simple touch of his saliva to their person. He was a good man, with an even better heart, and an exceptional love of children, never being able to father his own. Traveling this village and neighboring lands, he brought salvation to the little ones."

Mochan tilts his head for a moment as he ponders, "And the rest? The older ones?"

Cianna shakes her head remembering the story, "He always said the older ones had lived their lives, but the children deserved even the smallest chance for a future." She continues on after Mochan has decided not to comment, "All this said, he was returning home one night, on horseback, from a close village. And as he passed the very river we have just passed, did he hear an infant's cry. Strange he knew the event was, but with his love for children, he could not move on without seeking out the source of the wails. There, where the signs of the underbrush and thick bramble no longer show, did he find the screaming infant...naked to the world. The child laid on its' back, sprawling and kicking, eyes tear stained and streaked with the dust of the land. Emotions ran deep within my uncle, for what mother could leave a child so helpless like this, screaming naked in the night. He ran to his horse, grabbing the blanket from his saddle, and sacrificing his own skin did he retrieve the child from the thorny brush that existed at the river's edge. Arms ran red from scrapes and pricks that he suffered in the rescue, but quickly did he swaddle the infant and decide to continue home to family that was only a few moments away. He mounted his horse, babe in arms, but the animal was uneasy and so was the child. Harder and harder did the baby scream, inhuman in its' vocals...and the horse bucked, sending both the rider and babe from its' back as it bolted away. Stunned, my uncle slowly regained senses and fearing injury to the child, did he crawl to it, slowly unwrapping it from the blanket he had provided. The sight that befell him froze not only his eyes, but also his soul." She pauses here, eyes distant and seeming lost as steps also come to a rest.

"You stop here, in the middle of the road, story unfinished?" Mochan's voice is aggravated, yet still sympathetic. "Continue, I know it is personal for you, but we have a deal and all your information is important to me."

Cianna nods as a leg slides forward again to proceed in the journey, "Perhaps it was the blood dripping from the scrapes upon my Uncle's arms, or maybe just being that close to a pulsating heart caused the infant to transform. It was in a lustful rage, eyes flooded with red as its' very skin seemed to thin and show veins protruding in pounding rhythm. Where no teeth had existed before in such a young one, now inch long fangs dangled and snapped at hands that were trying to console. Uncle sprang back, knowing what was now before him, and even with his love for the little ones, he knew what must be done. Quickly, in a fierce grip, did he grab the devil-spawn by its' neck and sprinting to the river did he begin to drown it. But the creature would not die. Even after long minutes did it continue to kick, scream and snap with vicious teeth at his flesh. Finally, taking from his belt the machete that was so often needed in his travels, he lifted it high and with a cleaving blow beheaded the monstrosity, ending the suffering of the poor inflicted infant."

Cianna's eyes once again drift back to once great river, then swing ahead to focus on the town they approach. A wave of her hand beckons Mochan to follow, "Little did we all know that this was the sign that they were coming. But that was years before the Travelers came. Come wolf, you have heard nothing yet."