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I thought of my traitorous act of disobedience the night before. Apparently, he had been wrong, mingling their seed inside my body had not bonded me to these men of whom I had grown so fond.
Rood stepped near and hugged me close. Although a man of few words, he whispered in my ear, “Don’t ever forget us, my little Red. We will hold the memory of you in our hearts for the rest of our days.”
My eyes flooded with tears which streaked down my cheeks at his beautiful words.
Helm, the gruffest of them all, caressed my cheek as he wiped the tears away.
I took one last longing look at them. My five wolf-men. Their bright amber eyes, the only sign of their enchantment when they were not in wolf form, glowed with sorrow but most of all with conviction.
“I love you all,” I impetuously called out as I raised up on my toes and gave each one a quick kiss on the lips.
Then, taking a deep breath, I turned and took my first step into the clearing. I knew my men would guard my steps and keep me safe from the dark force until I reached the security of the village gate.
If they would not allow me to stay with them, the least I could do was work to change the villagers’ minds about them, I resolved. The elders would no longer use my men as leverage for their power. I would change the villagers’ minds about the wolves.
Stretching my head back, I looked up at the imposing oak and iron door which guarded the gates of the village. Grasping the heavy metal ring, I swung it high and let it fall. A loud resounding gong would summon the gatekeeper. After a few moments, a smaller door, set inside the gate, opened. A slight, beady-eyed man stepped out.
“Who disturbs this peaceful village at this hour?”
“It is Raina Reithaube, granddaughter to Elder Hildegarde Reithaube.”
“You…you’re the blood moon sacrifice!” the small elderly man croaked out in a shrill voice.
“I have survived the wolves. Now let me pass,” I ordered in my most imperious voice. My time with the wolves had given me courage and a raw sense of my own power.
In awe, the man stepped aside.
Making my way in the shade through the winding cobblestoned streets, I headed straight for the town square. Judging by the carts laden with wares and makeshift pens filled with still-sleeping animals which were scattered around the square, today was market day. The square would soon be filled with villagers. Confidently, I strode to the center, standing just below the bronze statue celebrating the elders who’d first enchanted and imprisoned my wolves. Resisting the urge to spit on it, I watched as the square began to fill with curious onlookers. Instead of the harried shouts and calls of greeting normally heard, everyone spoke in hushed, cautious tones. It was clear word of my return was spreading fast among the villagers.
When the square was nearly filled with curious onlookers, I snatched my moment. Standing on a nearby crate of cabbage, I addressed the people.
“My dear villagers, you and the generations before you have been deceived!”
An anxious rumbling swept over the crowd.
“I am here to tell you the brave men your ancestors sent to fight the dark force all those centuries ago still live! They live inside the bodies of the wolves! They are flesh and blood men. What you see is an enchantment! They are not the violent beasts the elders would have you believe.”
“What about the blood moon sacrifice?” shouted an unknown villager from the crowd.
“What about the curse?”
“The blood moon sacrifice was created by the elders to give them the power of fear over you. The wolves have never demanded it. They have only gone along with it over the centuries out of bitterness for our abandonment of them. They don’t want your fear. They merely want your respect and appreciation for the sacrifice they made for you to keep you and your loved ones safe from the dark force.”
“They’re not really wolves?” asked a child standing near my feet.
“No. It is the curse of the enchantment which makes them appear so to humans.”
“Why should we believe what you say?”
“Has anyone ever returned from a blood moon sacrifice as I have? I have seen them in their true form.”
I could feel the energy of the crowd begin to change. Begin to question the age-old stories. Question the elders.
As I started to raise my arms to continue, I was snatched down from the wooden crate.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” raged my grandmother.
“Righting a wrong,” I fired back.
She recoiled. “What is the matter with your eyes? Why do they flash that color?”
“My eyes have been opened to you and the other elders’ wickedness,” I sneered, my lips curling back from my teeth in disgust.
