Marion of Wolves ( Robin Hood of Loxley Story)

Preface

I hid, just like my mama told me to. I hid up in the rafters where the bad men couldn't see me. I watched as they came with torches and swords, and I watched as my family's' blood spread across the ground. Then I closed my eyes against the heat of the flames. I stopped watching.

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The knowledge that holding a knife had become a second nature to me becomes apparent as I dance across the clearing. The fluid motion from one strike to another both calms me an makes my heart quicken at the same time. I let my mind wander for a second as I take in the clearing. Light left patterns as it bursts through the trees, bathing me in a warm glow. I turned my face to the sun, close my eyes with a smile and let instinct take over. Block, feint, twist, stab.

'Your weight is off center. Always remember to be balanced, Azaria'. I stop my routine to look into the yellow eyes of Rihannon. Her grey fur is gorgeous and silky and her ears are pointed north-wards towards the sky. 'Why do you stop furless-daughter. What distracts you so?'

"Nothing, pack-mother."

'Then why are you out while the light-giving-sphere is at it's apex when the pack hunts at night?'

I turn away. "I could not sleep, fur-mother. Forgive me for worrying you."

'Your past haunts your dreams and your waking hours. You must make this dissappear.'

"How will I do that, Ria? It has been twelve years an I still see it. How do I stop it!"

'You stop seeing.'

"How do I do that!"

'You silence the ones that haunt you.' At first I think she means my family, who are already silenced, and then I realize she means their murderers, and then I have a purpose.

My name is actually Marion, it is just the wolves that call me Azaria. It is my pack-name, a way to say I am one of them, but my two-legged mother named me Marion. I still remember her well. Her smile would light up the room, her lips as pink as a rose petal. Her hair was a light blonde, so light that from a distance it could be mistaken for white. Her eyes were a dancing green and sometimes I believed I could fall right into them. It is her eyes I remember best. I have her eyes.

Years pass, sometimes I don't notice them. They pass anyway, and still the horror of that night stays. Ria's words pull me through. One day I will silence those that thought to silence me.

Ten years pass, and still I am here.

They are not