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Looking down, I cried out and tried to rise before hands pressing down on my shoulders forced me back down.
The oil was a sick crimson red. My pale skin looked as if it were drenched in blood.
It was an omen of my fate.
My fate with the wolves.
“The sacrifice will rise,” came the monotone command.
Offered no assistance, I was forced to awkwardly shift my hips to the edge of the basin and stretch my legs till my toes could feel the cold, stone floor. Grimacing as the lip of the stone basin lightly scraped my bottom, I stood before the robed women.
Grabbing me by the shoulders, I was turned to face the south wall. One of the women pulled on a heavy, braided cord. From high above the chamber, a thick curtain opened to reveal a large window showing the dark night sky and the glowing red visage of the moon.
The slow chanting began again. The oil was rinsed from my body. Raising my arms, I allowed them to drape me in a soft, shimmering white dress. Unlike my usual garb, this flowed unrestricted down my body. I felt a heavy weight as they placed a hooded robe on my shoulders. I looked down to see the red brocade fabric. The red, hooded robe of the sacrifice. I had seen it many times in the illustrations of my school books as I was taught to fear the wolves who protected my village.
A frail, elderly woman appeared before me. Leaning up, she kissed my cheek, whispering in my ear, “You are more in control of your destiny than you realize, my child.” Her cryptic yet kind words startled me. Before I could respond, I felt her place something in my hand before hurrying away. Looking down I realized I held the handle of a large basket.
“It is wine and cakes to help appease the wolves,” said one of the robed women, answering my unspoken question.
Obeying their command, I followed them out of the chamber down a narrow corridor which opened into a wide antechamber. Two massive iron doors dominated the space.
“This sanctuary shares a wall with the wall which surrounds the village. The sacrifice will move directly into the clearing. Never to step foot in our village again.”
“Please—” I whispered in fear as I watched the women pull on the iron rings which opened the heavy doors. My whole life I had been taught to fear the clearing, to never venture beyond the safety of the village walls, and now I was to be cast out as if I didn’t matter, as if I were not a human being…as if I were only a sacrificial animal to be slaughtered and forgotten.
The doors made a horrific screeching noise as they opened. Outside all was still and quiet. If I had not been taught otherwise, I would have thought it was nothing more than a placid pasture bathed in moonlight.
A hand placed between my shoulder blades gave me a shove.
Stumbling, I gripped the handle of the basket before sliding my foot forward. The moment the thin leather slippers they had given me touched upon it, I could feel the soft squish of the earth, a sharp contrast to the stone floor. I took another step forward. Despite my fear, my deep longing for the freshness of the open space, for the rich smell of grass coupled with the crisp clean scent of the night air, compelled me forward. Leaving the oppressive chamber behind, I felt as if I were being bewitched…pulled forward by the moon and the call of the forest.
The stillness of the night was broken by the reverberating sound of the iron doors slamming shut.
The spell was broken. Dropping the basket, I turned to bang my small fists on the door.
“Have mercy! Please! Don’t do this! Please! Open the door!”
Cold silence greeted my impassioned pleas.
I banged on the door and screamed till my voice was hoarse. Pressing my back against the cold metal, I slowly slipped to the ground. Scalding tears fell down my cheeks as I tried to figure out what to do next.
As I stared across the clearing, I could see the outline of the forest shift and move.
Shadows detaching themselves from the darkness.
Breathing heavily, I pushed myself upright as I strained to see past the trees. Was it fear or my imagination? No. The shapes were taking form.
Stepping into the clearing from the edge of the forest, I could see five distinct outlines.
The wolves.
No.
They were men. Men!
I knew from my lessons that the dark force, although never named, was like a black, creeping cloud. An evil rising smoke. Never the shape of a man.
The five men stalked forward. As they walked more fully into the clearing, I could see them in the bright moonlight.
Five large, beastly men. Their brawny bodies barely covered with fur pelts. Their amber eyes glowing in the dim evening light.
