Wolfmate

Elyane lay very still on her back, inviting the starlight to invade and re-make her. The wolf sat at her side, ears pricked towards the faraway howl of his pack. He would not leave her tonight.

The wolf had once been her husband Grigg, a hunter of wolves. He and his partner Pietor had ranged far and wide and brought back skins to hang on their walls and cover their beds and trade for home-brewed beer. One day, he had come home badly mauled. He had recovered, but the transformations had begun soon after. For a time, she had wondered at his bad temper and unannounced absences and his sudden loss of interest in his favourite sport, but she soon discovered the cause. It was then that she had gone to the wise woman Anya, to learn her craft and seek a remedy.

Anya had told her that it was Grigg's destiny to hunt with the pack, and that he would eventually be unable to revert to his human form. Since her time of departing was near, she was looking for an apprentice to learn her lore, and Elyane agreed to be her pupil. She would need protection without a husband, and Pietor had always gazed on her ravenously.

Before Anya died, she entrusted Elyane with her spellbook. "The world is uncertain. We must not allow this to fall into evil hands. Memorize the spells with care, even if you so not understand their purpose, and then burn the book. Where you scatter the ashes will be a holy place, and you will be powerful there. The rest will come in time."

Elyane had continued to memorize and practise during the long hours when her husband was away. Eventually, after learning a protective spell, she began to visit the wolf pack. They accepted her as Grigg's mate and let her share in the kill, provided she took her proper turn. She scattered the ashes of the book at a spring in a hidden canyon that no hunter had found. She dragged some small logs across the creek and added mud and stones to create a pool big enough to bathe in. She always felt clean and inwardly quiet in her special sacred place.

She shivered. She was defiled now. Pietor had tried to take her in her garden patch, and she had torn herself away and run, without even a cloak to protect her. She had told everyone that Grigg was on a long trading journey to a neighbouring kingdom, but the villagers had already given him up for dead. The country was hazardous with brigands and large, hungry animals, and few returned from such journeys. Pietor was determined to marry her and add Grigg's property to his own, all in the name of protecting his partner's helpless widow.

She made a pile of dried leaves to sleep in, and the wolf pressed against her side, his chin resting on her thigh. He seemed deeply asleep, but she knew that the slightest threat would wake him instantly.

Great Goddess, protect me and show me what to do.

She wept as she thought of everything that she had lost, and everything that was to come She knew that if she did not marry Pietor, she had no choice but to live in the forest with the pack, even though winter was coming. But first, she had to go home, take what she could. And she had to let her cat out.

Poor Greyladykins--how will she fare? She hunts well enough, but she has always had a hearth and a fire and milk in the evening. Anya entrusted her to me, and now I must abandon her.

She was still worrying when she drifted into sleep, curled around the warmness of the wolf.

In the morning the sun shone bright, promising a warm day. Stiffly, she brushed the leaves from her clothes and hair, and stamped her feet to bring warmth and sensation back. She followed the wolf to the canyon, their secret drinking spot. The rest of the pack materialized in ones and twos out of the morning fog. When they were finished drinking, she lay her clothes beside the pool and washed herself, feeling stronger and cleaner moment by moment.

It was then that the hunters with their bows and knives and dogs arrived, led by Pietor the Wolfslayer. As she snatched up her clothes and held them before her to protect her modesty, she knew that all was lost, and she was to blame. It was her scent that Pietor had set the dogs to track, no doubt with talk of rescuing her from the horrors of the forest.

It was over almost immediately. The only way out of the canyon was blocked by the hunters. The dogs pinned the wolves against the sheer rock face and the arrows did their work.

When Grigg fell, she screamed and ran to him, leaving her clothes behind. She tried to pull the arrow out, but it was no use. His suffering eyes looked on her deeply--reproach? love? forgiveness? Weeping, she kissed his forehead.

"Behold what manner of woman she is!" Pietor cried out, his eyes shining with bloodlust. "I thought to take her to wife, and she lies with a...brute!"

Eleane looked up at him, black hate coursing through her. Without premeditation, she spat out the words of the annihilation spell. She lacked the power to return him to the dust whence he came, but it was enough to throw him to his knees, grabbing his groin. "Witch!" he cried. "She is a witch! Take her!"

Grigg coughed blood and lay still. As the hunters gaped and the dogs whined uneasily, he returned slowly to his human form.

She pushed herself to her feet and stood proudly in her nakedness. There was no way back now.

Where you scatter the ashes will be a holy place, Anya had said, and you will be powerful there.

She spoke more words, more deliberately now. Pietor shrank tinier and tinier until he became a vole. He looked around in confusion, then scurried into the nearby grass, leaving his boots, his leather leggings, and his wolfskin cloak empty on the ground. She hoped fervently that the spell was permanent, for it was her death warrant.

She gathered the last of her strength, and felt the power of the spring gather within her body. Just one more spell...one more. If the strain killed her, so be it.

"Great Goddess, look after my cat!" she cried in the wild language of the kestrel as she spiralled upwards into the bright sunshine. By the time the hunters collected their wits sufficiently to shoot their arrows, she was well out of range.

There are no wolves in the forest now, but their howling is still heard, and none of the villagers dare go to see why this is so. Beside a sacred spring, a small grey cat tranquilly raises her kittens, while a kestrel skims on the updraught, eyes scanning the ground for the next meal. She particularly enjoys dining on voles.

Author's note:
In case you didn't know, a kestrel is a small falcon, a common symbol for nobility, ferocity, speed and might. If one visits you in your dreams, it may mean that a helpful person is reaching out to you.