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I
They
stood upon the hill holding hands, the dwindling light deepening
the light of the dense forest behind them to murky greys
and greens. He was tall and burly, the shoulder length red
hair tied back by a leather thong. The twilight seemed to
make the intricate patterns on his face stand out in stark
contrast to his fair skin, and the pale blue eyes were prominent
against the tattoos. She was slight, also with fiery red
hair that hung to her waist, and her golden eyes seemed
to glimmer in the light of dusk. They both wore homespun
wool tunics and breeches, tucked into the calf high, soft
leather boots, and warm cloaks hung about their shoulders,
clasped by matching pins worked in the Viking form of Fenris.
They watched the small village below them, intent on the
newcomer walking around the village. He was of a deceitful
nature and they had been watching him for some days now.
Observing as he stared at the young women and skulked around
in shadows, toying with the blade at his hip. He was posing
as a trader of goods, yet his wares were as tainted and
grimy as his thoughts and manners. They glanced at each
other. With grins that seemed to show too much of white
pointed teeth, they turned and melted into the shadows of
the trees.
He
was possibly the one whom they'd been hunting for. For many
decades they'd been searching for the one who had played
such a vile trick on them, who had uprooted their quiet
and peaceful existence. This one filled the criteria. Maybe,
hopefully, he was the one they sought to bring an end to.
II
It
was a small farmstead, just right for the two of them. The
house was sturdily built, the roof thatched and always taken
care of. There was even a separate room for the bed, and
a large hearth for cooking and heating took up almost one
entire wall in the main room. There was a tiny hut for the
chickens to roost in and a horse to help with the plowing
of the modest sized field. A small hand carved statue of
Freyja even graced a shelf by the door. There was a forest
rich with wildlife to hunt. They had no children, but they
found much happiness in just being with each other. They
didn't mind there being a two day ride to the nearest village
on the coast, for most of what they needed was supplied
from the earth and forest around them. It seemed that all
would remain peaceful in their existence until one day a
handsome stranger, in a cloak of many skins and a head of
thick blond hair, showed up while the man was away hunting.
He
was a peddler, he said. As it was not unusual for pedlars
to stop on the way to the coastal town, she though nothing
amiss. He had an assortment of the jewelry that Norse men
and women seemed to love, beautiful beaded and carved necklaces,
even small pieces of worked precious metals. He carried
an assortment of knives and axes, and other miscellaneous
items.
She
was thrilled at seeing the trinkets displayed before her
and glanced longingly at a beautiful, yet simple blade that
would be perfect on the belt of her beloved. In the midst
of her joy, she failed to notice the look the peddler was
giving her. He was eyeing her with the same look she desired.
When
she glanced up with a vibrant smile, he quickly wiped the
expression from his face and replaced with it a sincere,
yet attentive look. Suddenly, clouds began to blacken the
sky and soon what started as a light rain shower became
a downfall. Seeing the unpleasant weather, she invited him
stay until it had passed and have a meal with her, and the
hunger within him began to grow.
As
time passed, he found reasons to touch her, brush against
her, get close enough to smell the soft flowery scent of
her skin. At first she ignored it, dismissing it as being
in too close of quarters in the small house. She started
to become flustered as the handsome stranger began to press
his case, ignoring her insistence that she was happily mated.
As
twilight approached and they finished the evening meal,
she returned to the spread of goods, biting her lip as she
tried to choose.
"I
don't know which to take, I can only afford but one."
"I
can give you a great deal on all you desire."
She
looked up startled, "A deal?"
He
pulled her close, smirking, his muscled arms enclosing her
like a trap. "For the small price of your heart, I
could give you everything. Even more than you see."
She
struggled to free herself to no avail. "My heart belongs
to another and it seems you don't have much to offer."
His
eyes seemed to glow as he held her, capturing her gaze.
"I cavort with the gods, have seen the beauty of Freyja
whom you worship, and can offer more than these mere baubles
that you see." He tried to steal a kiss, jerking her
roughly, and she wrenched her head back sharply. With a
last desperate shove she freed herself.
"You
are mad. And a beast! I could never love one such as you!
Leave now," she gathered together the daggers and jewelry,
and thrust his bag at him, "and go cavort with your
gods."
"So
be it." He turned on his heel and was gone into the
heavy rain.
III
For
a few days after the man returned from his hunting trip,
things seemed to be normal. But then with each passing night,
the man became more restless. He tossed and turned, he'd
wake in a sweat, heart pounding, skin itching. She became
worried at his haggard appearance and wondered what could
be the cause. Then on the night of the full moon he woke
with a half snarl and with a whispered excuse to his wife,
headed out for a walk.
With
every passing moment of the rising moon, he became more
agitated and emotions ran rampant through his body. He reached
the forest at the edge of the farm clearing, wanting to
gasp for air as if having fallen in one of the glacier streams.
He wanted to howl! He wanted to scream and run until there
was no breath! He wanted to hunt! Hunt? A moment of confusion
rippled through his thoughts before the transformation began.
Hair sprouted from every pore, he collapsed to the ground
as bones shifted and he gave a low primal moan as pain swept
over him. Sounds clashed around him as he heard the crackle
of a falling leaf, the whispering walk of a nearby spider,
the soft nicker of the horse stabled a distance away. Scents
of the forest assaulted him, from the pungency of tilled
earth to the mushrooms growing in the shadowy shelter of
the trees. And then there was merciful oblivion. With the
full peak of the moonrise he came to, briefly confused and
disoriented, then he leapt to his feet. All four of them.
He glanced down at giant paws out of ice blue eyes. His
fur was soft and the color of fog. With a jolt, he came
to the realization of what happened. He was no longer a
man, but a wolf! Then with a howl that ripped from a throat
no longer human, the wolf cried his terror to the unfeeling
orb above. And then run he did. From the panic that seemed
to overwhelm him, to the pull of forest around him, on legs
swift as the wind itself. He paused in his headlong flight
as the scent of a deer assaulted his nose. He veered towards
the tantalizing aroma. He stopped at a small glade and he
could see it. A magnificent stag whose heart he could hear
beating, whose blood he could almost taste from scent alone.
The huge wolf bounded across the meadow and with a vicious
snap he latched onto the neck of the deer before it had
a chance to move. He reveled in the taste of the thick coppery
fluid as it flowed over his tongue and clenched harder as
the deer struggled. The stag stumbled to its knees and as
its life faded away it finally fell to its side. The wolf
growled low in its throat, reveling in the kill. He moved
to the belly and bit deep into the flesh, shredding the
soft underside, intent on reaching the warm insides, stopping
to lap at the blood that flowed from the wounds. When he
was sated, blood marring his perfect pelt, he sat back on
his haunches and launched a lupine melody to the moon, and
answering cries came from a distance.
Loki
pulled his patchwork cloak tighter, watching the immense
wolf finish his kill and feast on the entrails from the
deep shadows. He gave a mirthless chuckle, whispering, "And
she called ME a beast." He strode to the wolf and stood
before the man now reduced to a miserable creature. The
wolf, sensing something unnatural and even more fearsome,
that it, crouched and whined in its throat. Loki tilted
the head up, staring into the almost colorless eyes. The
wolf flinched inside at the gaze of an immortal and struggled
to release his head. With a grip that didn't even move with
the useless thrashing of the wolf, he sought out the mind
of the wolf.
"She
refused me. ME. Who'd have thought a woman would refuse
a god for a mere… man." He spat out the last word
as if it was distasteful. "Beast indeed," he grunted.
"Well now we'll see how she likes having a real beast
visit. Eh, puppy? You are MY gift to a foolish woman."
As
the two locked gazes, the smile that was mischievous turned
feral and unpleasant. The wolf's eyes began to glaze over
and it was filled with a blinding rage and an urge to kill.
In
the distance, the wolf pack gave a howl that seemed to reverberate
through the woods, and then the grey wolf was rushing to
follow the sound. Silently, he loped through the trees like
liquid motion, heading for the homestead, driven by an unheard
yet distinct command. He came to a clearing and caught the
scent of horse and fowl… and something else. And then
he saw her. A figure with a long mane of fire, staring from
the entrance to a den. He scented the air again, smelling
something that murmured in his mind, trying to tug at memories.
A scent of flowers, subtle spice, and of green earth. With
a shake of his immense head, the memory scuttled away and
he tore across the open field, covering the distance in
moments. She gave a soft mew as the horrifying wolf closed
in, and glanced behind it to see a blonde haired man watching.
Wolves slunk around him like disturbed water, and he had
a savage smile on his face. She spun and lurched into the
house for her sword, but by then the wolf had reached her
and with a flying leap knocked her to the floor. As she
fell, she tumbled the statue of Freyja to the ground and
grabbed for it in desperation. She turned to face the wolf,
screaming to herself, to the gods who may be listening,
to the wolf that was upon her, "Freyja, guide my hand…"
And with the last word the wolf clamped his jaws around
her shoulder, long fangs digging deep into the tender flesh.
And then time stopped.
IV
Smoke
from the guttering hearth fire coalesced into the misty
form of a woman. She had come at the heart rent cry of one
of her followers. Compassion filled her face at the sight
of the wolf and the woman, and the goddess realized that
Loki has once again muddled with mortal affairs. And this
time dared to do so with two of her devotees. But this time
the curse he brought to mankind was a harsh one with truly
unforeseen effects. The power that bound the spell was great,
and time, though paused, was short, so in a quick effort
to help two who loved so completely and at such great cost,
she reached forth and placed a hand on the wolf's head.
"With
the bite of the wolf and the start of a curse, this love
that binds will call across Valhalla itself, so that two
may rejoin once again, for evermore."
With
the incantation complete, she slipped back to the hearth.
She glanced back at the frozen pair of lovers, "I have
done what I can and may those of future huntings forgive
me." With a sad smile she faded like a wisp of wind
blown smoke and with Loki never the wiser as to what he
had started.
Time
resumed and with a shake of its shaggy head the wolf ripped
the tender tissue from the shoulder of the red haired woman,
almost severing the arm. Blood pooled around her like red
satin, staining her hair a glistening scarlet. As he was
about to go for the throat, he heard another summons and
with a growl at the thwarted hunt, padded outside. He halted
in front of the blond haired man, blood dripping from his
muzzle and down the front of the once white chest. Loki's
laughter rang through the air and with a glance at the setting
moon, he ruffled the head of the wolf. "Good Beast."
Loki
glanced at the sun that now crested the horizon and then
down at the wolf that had begun to shake and tremble, slowly
collapsing to the ground. With a chuckle that contained
more animosity than amusement, he strode away. As much as
he would have loved to watch the man discover what he had
done, he had other plans afoot, other tricks to play, gods
and goddesses to tease and harass.
The
man slowly came to, finding himself lying in the dirt before
his house. He lay still, trying to remember what had brought
him there. Then with a start he sat up and stared into the
house. The door was open and he saw a puddle of material
just inside the doorway. He crawled a short distance, staggered
to his feet, then ran to the side of his mate. She was lying
in a pool of crimson, her mangled shoulder a shock to the
eyes. He remembered now. Remembered what he had done in
the night, and how, and a cry escaped his lips. His heart
shattered and as he gathered his love into his arms he wept
openly. He carried her to the bed, and laid her down as
gently as a babe. He held her cold hand and gazed at her,
heart and eyes full of remorse and longing. He noticed that
her chest still rose and fell, though faintly. He grabbed
a bowl, some fresh rags, and began to tenderly clean the
gaping wound, binding it as well as he could. He stayed
by her side that whole day, leaving only for fresh cool
water to wipe her brow with, and once stopping to pick up
the Freyja statue and place it by her side. He whispered
prayers, spoke of his love for her, and pled with her to
forgive him.
As
the day waned on, he slipped into a light slumber, his head
resting by her arm. He awoke to feel a hand slowly caressing
his hair and sat up, clasping her hand tight once more.
Her eyes were still closed, but her breathing had gone from
laboured and shallow to a steady rhythm. He checked her
wound and was stunned to his very roots to find it healing.
Rapidly.
He
watched in amazement over the next few hours how her shoulder
stitched itself together, how her cheeks slowly took on
color, how the scar slowly faded. He almost missed the symptoms
of his own restlessness, the same as those of the night
before and he began to worry that he may try to kill his
love again. He was torn by the need to stay by her side
and the urge to get as far from her as possible.
Before
he could make a choice, she opened her eyes with a gasp
and squeezed his hand. They held each other close, silent
tears mingling on cheeks pressed together.
They
remained that way for a long time, before they both noticed
a feeling of being on edge, of the bristling sensation that
had previously gripped only the man. While they could, they
quickly tidied the house, leaving the door unclosed, freed
the animals, and changed into a set of their hunting leathers.
All done in silence. They both knew that they would not
be returning. They realized that whatever was happening,
and had happened, to them would change them eternally.
With
the coming of true darkness they grabbed each others hand
and headed away from the homestead that used to be their
lives. They headed into a new one, uncertain, but together.
That night when the Change came over them, it seemed not
as painful. Maybe it was because they were together or maybe
from the brief contact with the goddess Freyja, but they
now had a common unspoken goal. To destroy the man who had
intruded so harshly on their lives.
V
He
caught view of her at the forested edge of town. A goddess
with shining red hair, lithesome body, and enticing smile.
She stared at him intently, beckoning with her flashing
amber eyes. Finally! He could have some sport. The village
girls had been watched too closely and the citizens too
wary of any newcomers. And he had been unable to tempt one
away. But this woman. She seemed like she would enjoy a
bit of energetic fun. And if it got a bit rougher than she
imagined, well there was the dense woods to smother any
screams. He caressed the handle of his knife and swaggered
up the hill, a smug smirk on his face.
As
he reached her, she seemed to smile shyly and he took her
hand gently. He brought the delicate hand to his lips, gracing
it with a tender kiss. She turned her head away with a blush.
Oh, to have such a sweet quarry to toy with! Little did
he realize the head turn was to hide a wicked grin full
of teeth.
They
headed deeper into the thick foliage. Stopping at a small
clearing, the towering trees and undergrowth lending to
the privacy. They turned to each other at the same moment
and he was surprised to see an overwhelming look of hunger
in her eyes. It was almost feral. Disturbing.
She
gave a soft growl in her throat, one of the sexiest he'd
ever heard and quickly forgot any misgivings. He pulled
her close and then froze as he saw a shape behind her.
The
man was huge! Seeming to bristle with fury, muscles gleaming
in the now approaching evening light. His leather garments
seeming to be as natural to him as wool to a sheep. As he
stepped from the greenery, the supposed trader put on an
air of bravado, trying to cover his puzzlement at the developing
circumstances. He shoved the girl behind him, and was even
further baffled when she gave a chuckle and slowly walked
towards the towering redheaded man.
With
his moment of bravery gone, it was replaced by a nervous
anger. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Why
a hunt of course. That is what you were looking for wasn't
it?" the lady answered.
"I
have no idea what you speak of!" The cowering man proclaimed.
With
total disregard to his declaration, the woman continued,
"Well in this case it is you who is to be the hunted."
Dread
grew in his heart, draining his face of color, and setting
his legs to trembling as he watched the redheaded pair shift
into horrifying shapes. Wolves. Not just any wolves but
wolves of unbelievable size. The man was almost like the
moon itself with soft grey fur and pale blue eyes. If it
wasn't so terrifying, it would have been beautiful.
And
the lady! She was like shadows. All shades of darkness,
only the gold eyes shining from the depths of the rich fur,
like topaz against black velvet.
For
the pair had learned over the years to control their forms,
maybe it was the blessing of Freyja, or the being the first
bearers of the curse, but they could change at will and
at need. There had been those who had been bitten by them
and left to survive, who seemed not as strongly affected.
Changing form only at the height of the moon, taking many
nights before the restless urge to hunt overwhelmed them.
But these were few and far between and over the years, they
learned to endure the curse or were killed by distrustful
and eager hunters.
And
there was both will and need to rid the world of the man
that stood quaking before them. With a strangled scream,
the man turned from the unnatural horrors, half stumbling
in his haste, running for the supposed safety of the woods.
The
black female rubbed her head against the grey's, and he
returned with a loving nip to her ear. Then as screams once
again pierced the air, they ran as one and began to follow
the scent of the petrified human. And he was human, not
the one they sought, but definitely one that should be eradicated.
~ The End ~
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