Wolf Song

When the night waned, and the moon was full, I heard it calling on the wind.

I heard the wolf song.

Old and enchanted. Lilting and intoning. Bidding me to run, to hide, to go forth. Bidding that I get up, that I not be still, that I look.

That I find.

Follow the hollow in the forest’s mound,

Follow it deep, deep underground.

Wolves tell the tales of the things hiding in the dark,

Wolves tell because others cannot, death to the lark.

Death to the lark.

Continue reading “Wolf Song”

The Moonlands

It was dark. Hollow.

As I took the steps precariously with my limited eyes, I could feel them. Boring into me. Stars that winked, even in the dark. Unseen eyes that knew what I did not. Whose eyes understood further than my own could ever hope to reach.

Those eyes on me—knowing, waiting, watchful eyes—I continued the dark trek.

Entering the Temple of the Moon. Continue reading “The Moonlands”

Wolf Hound

Silently, I watched my father’s hound rush off. Bouncing through the grass to get the goose. Giddy. Proud to make his master happy.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and collect the geese Holt?” my brother asked, not an ounce of venom in his tone. “You’d be faster than Finn.”

My dad hit him lightly. Smacking him gently with the butt of his rifle as the words floated and sank, digging into the earth.

“Don’t say things like that to your brother. He’s a werewolf, not a dog. It’s a legitimate condition,” Dad snarled.

My brother didn’t mean anything by it. Not at all. It was a suggestion made by a young mind. Someone who doesn’t quite understand.

But…

Still.

I think about it all the time. Continue reading “Wolf Hound”

Falling To Fate

“I don’t believe in fairytales,” he grumbled over the lip of his pint. Already drowning in the liquid, as this wasn’t his first drink.

Hell, it wasn’t even his second, or third.

It was his fifteenth.

I swear, that wolf can really put ’em away.

“I don’ believe in ’em, ya hear me?” He growled, his claws digging into the metal.

“Aye, I hear ya. Drink that up bud, and then be on your way. The hunters will be out soon.”

“Hrggh,” he grumbled.

But he did as he was told. Bless his tired, drunk soul.

Sitting up, he tipped his drink all the way back. Guzzling it like a pro, very little sloshing out the sides of his snout.

When it was gone, he slammed it down like any lad would, wiped his face-fur on his sleeve, threw a few coins down, saluted, and then stumbled his way out the door.

“Is he always like that?” the kid at the bar asked as the wolf tumbled into the night.

I shrugged. “Just when he stumbles across kids in red hoods.”

“What’s he mean, he don’t believe in fairytales?”

I shrugged. Pretended not to know. Then went about my business. Cleaning mugs, refilling drinks.

It was dishonest of me, sure, but.

It wasn’t really my place to tell the kid that the Big Bad Wolf doesn’t believe in himself.

Was it? Continue reading “Falling To Fate”

Midnight Ride

I’ve often thought about Paul Revere.

Not because I thought of him as a hero. In fact, I know almost nothing about him. Just have heard about his famous midnight ride. His holler, crying through the town. Alerting the people.

They’re coming.

Riding through the town, yelling at the top of your lungs. Hoping someone—no, everyone—hears you.

They’re coming.

In the dead of night, when your voice is the only protest. The only thing piercing through the dark. A last line of defense against what’s to come. Against the impending attack. The looming doom.

They’re coming.

I think that, maybe, Paul thought to himself—at least once:

God.

I hope they believe me. Continue reading “Midnight Ride”

The Great Tiger

It happened by chance. A very unhappy, happy circumstance.

One night, when the tent was empty, and the clowns were drunk, and the crowds had all left, it happened.

I was in my cage. Not unusual. Not in the slightest bit.

At least, that was what I’d thought.

Until the wolf walked in. Continue reading “The Great Tiger”

Wolf of the Winter Wood

I had always thought I liked winter best. The way the cold pricks at your nose, keeps your senses sharp. Covers the ground with white, dusting away what once was in favor of what could be. A clean slate with the death of the past. Of what was.

Yeah, I liked winter best.

In all honesty, I think I still do.

But.

There was one thing I forget to account for.

Winter is so, so cold. Continue reading “Wolf of the Winter Wood”

Wolf in Wolf’s Clothes

A hunter’s job is to hunt.

That’s a given.

We don’t spend our days in the woods to come out empty handed. We’ve got mouths to feed—namely, our own—and finding nothing makes for a pretty boring day anyhow.

But there are certain things we don’t expect to find.

Certain things we don’t want to run into.

And certain things we’d never even think we’d ever run into.

Like a wolf in wolf’s clothes.

That was a new one for me. Continue reading “Wolf in Wolf’s Clothes”

Tired

I think I was just tired.

Tired of the fear.

Tired of the waiting.

Tired of trying to gain something that never really mattered in the first place. Something I didn’t need to find with them. Something that was more easily found elsewhere.

Yeah.

I was probably just tired. Continue reading “Tired”