Bitter winds blew snow-dust from the barren earth. Clouds grimed the skies, veiling the tundra in shade. A brown rabbit nibbled on dried redroots. A wolf darted towards it and clamped its jaw around its small neck. Remus shook his head, battering the little animal until it fell limp. The white wolf dropped the small creature. He licked his lips.

Rollo snapped at the carcass. Remus pushed the omega aside and scooped the rabbit from the ground. He bolted ahead with Nerida at his heels. The she-wolf caught up to him. She knocked Remus into a snow bank and tore the carcass from his mouth.

“Mine!” Remus barked.

“Stronger hunter need food!” Nerida snarled.

“W-we s-share.” Rollo wandered over to the other wolves. His back hunched in submission. He licked his packmates’ snouts. Remus growled at the omega. Rollo retreated with his tail low.

“Enough.” Faolan broke up the brawl.

“Hungry! Hungry! My preada!”  Nerida curled her lip.

“Hunt your own!” Remus ripped the rabbit from the hunter’s jaw. Rollo stood next to Faolan watching the wolves bicker.

“Stop it. Stop thinking with your stomachs. This is about my sister, your sister, members of our pack.” Faolan remained calm, collecting his frustration.

“Aeryn gone. Lupa gone. No scent trails. No scat. No bad Orion smell. No more danger.” The she-wolf’s ears rested against her neck.

“All right. Then let me suggest, you and Rollo go for a hunt. While I will take Remus further north to search for Aeryn and Lupa.”

Nerida dropped her guard. She snorted and released the mangled rabbit. The she-wolf signalled the omega to follow her westward. Remus licked his lips. He lowered his head and sniffed the carcass. The wolf parted the fur and tore at the warm meat.

“Eat, brother,” Remus whimpered. Faolan took a seat and ripped off the leg of the preada. He devoured the warm flesh, avoiding the bone. 

When the two finished the small meal, Faolan signalled his wolf to follow him northward. They padded through the barren wastes of Winter Frith and over glass patches of ice, with the sounds of the wind whirling around them. Faolan and the wolf marched through the valley of snow. He wandered into a depression of land, homing raised stones forming a circle. Remus trotted ahead, sniffing the crisp air. Faolan examined the rocks carved with runic inscriptions and drawings. He observed a wolf and a lion chasing each other across the sky. He tilted his head, wondering why men marked their territory with boulders.

“Preada!” Remus barked. His ears perked. Faolan followed his gaze. A white owl perched on a standing stone, preening its long wing feathers.

 “A bird?” Faolan halted.

“Preada! Mine!” Remus bounced. He bolted towards the boulder. The owl flapped its wings and flew into the air, soaring to the north. Remus followed the bird.

“Brother! Wait!” Faolan chased his packmate. The winds swirled around him, blinding the wolfborn. He stayed at a distance, with squinted eyes and a face dusted with snow.

The ground buckled underneath the weight of the wolf. Remus fell into a hole hidden by birch-bark and pine branches. Faolan rushed to the side of the trap. Remus whimpered, pawing at the steep sides of the crevasse, unable to climb.

 “Danger. Bad smell. Orion. Danger. Danger.” Remus ran in circles in the trap. His tail tucked between his legs.

“I’ll get you out of there,” Faolan said. 

“Brother! Brother! Run! Run!”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“They are coming! They are coming!” Remus barked.

He heard a shout and turned around. Men who dressed in pelts of skinned deer and wolves charged at the wolfborn. The glint of pole-arms and sharpened axes caught his eye. Faolan barred his teeth. The humans surrounded him, yipping as alarmed birds.

A man shouted, uttering a language he did not know. The warriors drew their spears. Faolan balled his fists. He kept his thoughts clear, hoping to brew an escape. Men stepped forward and tied his hands behind his back.

 “Give me back my brother,” he ordered.

Humans gathered around the pit. They dropped a net over the whimpering wolf and pulled him from the trap, tangled in rope.

 “What do you want? Let us go,” Faolan shouted, hoping the warriors would hear him.

The leader raised his axe.

Another hunter stepped between them. Faolan guessed this man to be a voice of reason amidst a sea of warring ideals. The lead hunter sighed. He grunted, signalling the patrol to follow. The warriors pushed their prisoner onward. Faolan thought about life amongst his own kind, if their lives had a likeness to his own within the pack. He studied their weapons, their ingenuity and intelligence, and marvelled.

The clouds unearthed a grey and yellow tinted skyline. Light shone across the sheets of delicate ice blanketing the tundra. The land stretched far into the horizon, without a rock or tree to corrupt the barren lands of Winter Frith.

Wooden structures littered the desolated wastelands of the north. Smoke billowing from open roofs in longhouses. The sweet smell of curing fish and elk meat cooking over fires watered his mouth. Faolan listened to the sound of children laughing and mothers scolding. He grinned, their simple life reminded him of his own.

Northern humans came from their tents to see the wolfborn. They did not speak a word as he passed by. The hunters took him towards the largest of the huts. The patrol leader grunted. He pushed the wolfborn inside the flap opening, ducking his head.

He stood within a large room with burning torches and beaded strings hanging around him. The walls were covered in the murals of wolves dancing, winged beasts sprouting fire from their gullets, tall beautiful women with pointed ears, and fish swimming upstream. He reached a hand to touch the art piece.

“Paintings reveal much about life. Art mimics reality and reality mimics art. Cosmic cohorts cannot live apart.” Faolan recoiled from the wall. An old woman stood behind him. Wisdom aged her face, creating maps of wrinkles like constellations on her skin. Her platinum hair was braided and decorated with beads and hawk feathers. The wolfborn noticed her pointed ears, similar to the warriors who captured him.

“You understand me?” Faolan wondered. He arched his brow, uncertain about the strange woman.

“I am the mother of this tribe. I must know all the languages within the kingdoms, Faolan,” she said.

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?”

“I am Willowsong, mother of the Frostpatch clan, in what the other kingdoms call Aneira, the second kingdom in the winterlands,” the elder introduced. Her voice comforted him as a summer dawn. “By the stars themselves, I was gifted with sight, a sense beyond what is seen by the eyes. I know what you are seeking.”

“You know of my sisters?”

“That is not why you are here.” Willowsong shook her head. “You seek to quench your hunger, something your heart craves. Determination is set within the deepest part of a man’s soul. It is something your brothers do not share.”

“Then you are wrong. My sisters are all I care to find.” Faolan crossed his arms.

“The mind does often betray the heart. If that were true you would have ended your search when the slaver’s scent grew stale.”

“What do you want with me?”  

“I sense something within you, something you do not know. You were born of man, but wolves also raised you. Your survival thus far, it is impossible.”

“But I am here,” Faolan added.

“Yes. You have the blood of the ancient ones inside of you. The blood of a Dire,” Willowsong explained.

“A dire?”

“There was a time when this realm belonged not to man, but to the elder races. The first of these were the star-born mages, the Anora. These were the first of the elder races that became masters of the arcane and wore crowns for near a thousand years. From the water blood of the world serpent came the Laec, those of gill and fin. The dragon-born, the Kallai, came from the god who stole fire, with hearts of iron, bearing dragon claws and skin. Unlike those birthed from elements, one race was born as the brothers and sisters of the dire wolves. They were formed from the same womb as communicators, hunters and warriors. They were called the Dire, the brothers of the wolves. These ancient beings lived for centuries in peace until a fifth race came from the womb of the earth. These were the sons of man. They were the weeds of the earth, spoiling and conquering the gifts of the realm, slaughtering the old races. While the other races withered and faded into extinction, the Dire were given a choice, to become wolves and live with their brothers, or to become man. The bloodline did not die. Their heritage faded, the Dire lived on, and their essence has been reborn in your siblings.”

 “But what does that have anything to do with me? Why did you bring me here?” 

“Ancient ones are the children of Fortuna. They hold more purpose than ordinary men. Sometimes hold great destinies as folk heroes, wise men or even as kings. But know this, a storm is coming. A war will break and the fate of our world will be in the hands of the chosen one.”

Faolan balled his fists as he remembered his sister’s vision. “What’s coming? Tell me, what it is, maybe I can stop it.”

“Night will come, honour dies, darkness arises, and the wolfborn thrives. The children of the dire shall inherit the earth.”

“What does that mean?” Faolan crossed his arms.

“That is for you to find out on your own. My sight is not as strong as it once was. Even the gods do not know everything. Now, you must return to your pack.”

“I’m not leaving Aeryn and Lupa in the hands of those men.” Faolan stomped his foot.

“It is too late for them.”

“You cannot know that. I’ve seen no bodies. The humans must have taken them further north,” Faolan shouted. His face became red.

“Take my hand.” Willowsong extended her palm to him. Faolan hesitated. He touched her palm.

The world vanished in a whirlwind of white. Salted air filtered into his nostrils. He stood upon a shoreline with crimson waves battering against his heels. A stew of innards and torn limbs washed on the beach. Faolan glared at the forest behind him, glimpsing firelight. The trees blazed as giant torches against a black sky. His ears flooded with shrieks of wolves and human fighters.

Men in iron suits clashed against shields, creating a wall around the timberland. Knights yowled. The ground beneath him was burnished in entrails and blood. Three massive wolves dashed from the woodland ignited in dancing light, through the battle of steel men. The flames consumed the warring men, devouring their malice and violence.

The wolves circled Faolan in a coltish prance. The heavy air weighed upon his lungs, filling them with tar. The wolfborn fell to his knees, gagging and spitting.

A great oak collapsed in front of him. His gaze dropped to the ground, where sunlight filtered from a crack in the tempest. A white rose bloomed, unburned by the fire. Faolan squeezed his eyes shut.

Faolan gasped. His shoulders tensed.

“You must choose your own path when the storm breaks. Remember where you will stand. Your sisters were slaves of fate. The gods took them. You cannot change the will of fortune. You must accept it and prepare for what is coming. You are free to go, Faolan.”

He turned from the woman, returning to the cold tundra. When he emerged, the village people anchored their gaze upon him. Faolan scoffed. He did not understand why the warriors gawked. As he walked through the village, a small child blocked his path. A tiny girl with dark olive skin and short black hair giggled. She held a knitted stuffed wolf in her hands. The girl mumbled in the village language.

Faolan stood still. The human cub motioned for him to kneel. He obeyed her command. She took a beaded necklace, bearing a red, green and a brown bead upon twine, and tied it around his neck.

Faolan smirked, nodding his gratitude. The girl ran into the village after hearing her mother call. 

“Brother! Brother!” Remus raced towards him.

Faolan opened his arms. The giant wolf knocked him over, licking his face with his drool drenched tongue.

“I’m glad to see you are okay.” Faolan scratched his brother’s forehead.

“Orion weak. Orion cannot hold Eyolf.” Remus panted. He stared at his brother with bark-coloured eyes.

 “Now we must leave, the others will be wondering what happened to us.”

“Aeryn and Lupa?” Remus whimpered. Faolan lowered his head, remembering his lost sister. He stood still, unable to find the words. The dire wolf licked his hand. His wagging tail stopped.

“I’m afraid, they’re gone. Aeryn and Lupa, they’re gone,” he spoke words he had known to be true since departing from their territory. His head lowered. The weight of loss poisoned his veins, turning his blood blue. His eyes glossed with a glaze of water. The acceptance of his sister’s demise came as a river, washing goodness, and leaving a cold shell.

“Gone? No.” The wolf flattened his ears. “We cannot give up! They are pack!”

Faolan suppressed his hollowness. His remaining family needed him to stand strong and keep his pack together.

“We don’t have a choice. Difficult decisions must be made for the good of the pack. Rollo and Nerida are still out there. It’s best we search for them, and return home,” he suggested.

Faolan wandered from the human tribe. He touched the beaded necklace. The wolfborn did not see the realm of men as a scourge. He believed the Eyolf and the Orion thrived together through winter. When turmoil hit as a pounding tempest, both the wicked and moral face the same choices. Faolan and Remus walked in silence as the luminous moon rose high. He looked back. The village disappeared.

Faolan thought about what would happen if had grown up in the realm of men. He wondered who he would become, perhaps a shepherd, a knight or a farmer. A yearning gnawed at his stomach. A part of him wished he had stayed with the shepherds who found him as a child and taught him to speak. He longed to retrace his steps, back to the humans. 

 “We call pack.” Remus broke the silence.

 “Oh, yes.” Faolan ignored the thought.

Remus lifted his muzzle and howled. The tone soothed the ears. It was loud enough to be heard from the Greatwood. The howl called the togetherness of the pack, entwining the souls of the criers, to proclaim triumph and glad tidings. 

Faolan cupped his hands around his mouth and mimicked his brother. Their voices intertwined in a derisive wail, as their call reverberated across the eerie tundra, until their song faded into an ocean of stillness. Faolan and Remus waited for the return howl of their packmates.

A sweet howl replied, followed by broken yipping. Nerida and Rollo trotted through the night mist. Their reflective eyes appeared from the blackness. Faolan and his band of dire wolves wandered to the tundra, returning to their sanctuary in the woodlands. Strong winds pressed against his back, foretelling a storm. 

Next Chapter: DACIANNA