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Kasha’s Tale

“Norom, do not go. This is folly. Look at the storm outside, ‘tis not natural. Please my husband, leave it be.” Ara followed her husband around their small cottage, watching desperately as he collected his bow, arrows, and knife. “This is no time for a hunt.”

            “Would you have me desert the rest of the men in our village Ara, proclaim myself a coward, and leave my neighbors and kin to fight in my ‘stead? No, that is one thing I will not do even for you, my love.” Speaking firmly, but kindly he turned to her and kissed her softly on the forehead. “A pack of wolves near our village is naught to be ignored. No, I must go.”

            “Go? Papa, where are you going? What is going on?” From the doorway of the room next to the hearth a pretty young woman stood, her forehead creased by a frown. Seeing the bow and arrows that her father carried, her frown deepened.       

“Go back to your bed Kasha, ‘tis nothing to worry about. The storm is lessening. I must go. Stop sniffling, my dear, I will be back.” As he opened the door, gusts of wind held him at bay for a few seconds and then he was gone. Silence followed, unbroken but for the rain pounding on the door, like a messenger of dark portent.      

            Dozens of human figures swarmed through the woods, struggling softly through the tangled brush and branches. Cold rain slashed down and drenched every man to his skin, till his teeth chattered and his very bones ached from shivering. Hours seem to drag by as the men silently hunted their quarry. Finally they saw through the trees a large outcropping of rock, with a large cave, like a blemish on its face.

The men slowed their pace, now creeping forward, keenly aware of every movement, every sound around them. Slowly, in unison, they raised their bows to the ready. Suddenly a wolf cry pierced the night, sending ripples of terror along every spine. From the cave many furred bodies streamed toward them, forming a circle around the mouth of the shelter. A single arrow shot, only just missing one of the wolves, who dived to the side just in time. The men charged. They struck with knife and bow against claws and teeth. The shouts of injured wolves and men echoed off the rock. With a fierce cry a small, white and brown wolf charged at Norom who had finally managed to position himself for a killing stroke on his opponent. The man twirled around, defensively raising his knife, and plunging it into the heart of the wolf. With a cry that was more human than animal, the wolf fell.

            As the cry dwindled away into nothingness, all fell silent. A small human figure ran from the shelter of the cave to the fallen animal. Kneeling next to the creature she gasped in horror at the sight of the knife between its ribs.

            “NO! My son, my son.”

            Horrified Norom looked from the woman to the still body of the wolf. It wasn’t possible. Looking around he saw the same emotion mirrored on the face of every one of his kinsmen. In shocked silence their weapons dropped from their hands. The soft thuds brought the wolves about, a rumble like thunder emanated from deep in their chests. The woman stood and slowly advanced on the men, her face a mask of rage.

            “You have murdered him, you have murdered my son, you animals. May you die for this.”

            A wolf, dark as coal in the pale light of the clearing, advanced quickly to the woman’s side, stopping her in her stride. Looking startled the woman looked down at her companion, frowning as if the rumbling coming from its throat was a command uttered by a human voice. For a moment the woman looked as if she might refuse or step away from the animal but then she nodded stiffly.

            Her eyes blazed with scorching fire as she turned her full attention to the men before her. Slowly she scanned the crowd, finally letting her eyes rest upon Norom. “For the death of my child we demand payment, a child of your own.” With the outraged objections a touch of a mad smile graced her lips. “Your friends dropped their weapons. But we still have ours. If you refuse, you will start a fight you will not win. Would you not trade one child for the life of every one of your kinsmen? You have till dawn. We will keep your friends company while you bring the child.” With that she turned and walked away, back to the still form of her son.

            The wolves gathered as one, separating Norom from the others, penning the humans in like sheep for the slaughter.  The eyes of the black wolf burned holes in his back as the man turned and ran back through the forest.

            Ara and Kasha jumped as Norom burst like a whirlwind through the cottage door. Wild-eyed he stumbled over to his wife, seeing only her through his terror-gripped frenzy. He clung to her, cold and sopping wet, babbling madly of what had occurred in the woods. Fear gripped Ara as Norom told her of the bargain. She had but one child, one daughter, Kasha. Looking over at her, the woman saw that her daughter was looking terrified over at the open door, as if afraid some phantom would come and snatch her away that very minute.

Light was beginning to show over the threshold, as the sun rose from its slumber and the rain slowly abated. There wasn’t much time. Filled with desperation, Ara stood and, brushing off her husband, crossed to where they kept bags for traveling. Hurriedly, she began sweeping anything and everything she came across into the leather sacs.

“We are going, we cannot stay. My only child. Can’t ask me to do such a thing. Kasha.” She turned, needing to see the face of her child and saw nothing. Kasha was not there.

            Gasping in horror Ara ran to the door, catching the sight of a pale blue cloak as it disappeared into the woods. With pain in her heart she raced into the trees, searching for some sight of her daughter, but soon even the trees seemed to spin about her. She was only dimly aware of being lifted off the forest floor as one of the village men, returning home, carried her out from among the trees.

            Kasha trembled silently as she stood before a great mass of black and brown- furred bodies. Her eyes rested on the men she had known since child hood, standing in a ragged group, surrounded by wolves on all sides. Anger slowly burned inside her, helping to push back her terror, adding steadiness to her limbs. Standing tall, she spoke in a voice that echoed off of the rocks, clear and strong, her eyes still fixed on her friends. “I am yours.” As one, the sea of wolves engulfed her, even as their prisoners ran as doomed men fleeing before the end of days.

            It had been days since Kasha parted from the world she had always known. Shortly after she came to live with the wolves the whole pack moved on to an empty meadow in a clearing, miles from the cave, far from the village that had been her home. Every day in the wolves’ camp she discovered something new. As well as the wolves, the camp included some ten or twelve women. Kasha had not once seen a man or even a child since her arrival and she felt quite sure that there were none at all.

            Soon after her arrival Kasha was told firmly that there were certain obligations and responsibilities that she must carry out each day. She must help with the meals, once she learned how to cook properly, and perform other such mundane tasks. The women were not unfriendly. Indeed once Kasha reached beyond the shock of first entering into her new life she found many of the women quite pleasant, though they all seemed somewhat out of sorts. Most peculiar of all was the way the women interacted with the wolves. Sometimes as the day went on, the animals would come right up to one of them, and she would stoop down next to it, almost as if they were having a conversation. Then at night, as the campfires were dying and all were returning to their tents the animals would lie down beside the women and sleep.

            Only one wolf remained aloof. He was beautiful, with jet-black fur and bright blue eyes. He would wander the camp, stopping here or there before moving on again. The women would greet him pleasantly, but there was not the same air of warmth and casualness as usual. At night he would retire alone, to the edge of the camp, where he would stay till morning.

In her head Kasha called him Prince. There was a definite air of authority and possessiveness about the way he wandered around the camp that made him seem like royalty, a leader amongst his people.

            Though Kasha found good company among the women she never felt one of them. For years these women and wolves had been together, living side-by-side, sharing everything. She could tell by the way the women talked to each other and by the casual way one of them would reach down her hand and rest them on the shoulders of a wolf that was passing by.  There was a love between the humans and the wolves that Kasha had never seen before. Kasha found herself constantly lonely, yearning to be included in this magical group, and the love that bound it together.

            One night a storm came over the camp. The cold, biting wind screamed and bit at the tents. Waking, Kasha crossed to the tent flap and peered out into the night. Prince was out there, as ever, long ago abandoned by the other wolves for the warmth of the tents. His ears were laid flat back against the top of his head, which was buried under his paws for protection against the wind.

            Without thinking Kasha grabbed up her blanket and stepped outside, crossing quickly to the lone animal. At her approach Prince looked up with questioning eyes. Kasha just shook her head and spread the blanket so that it covered them both. Then lying down beside him, she slept.

            Slowly Kasha and Prince grew closer. The others in the camp watched in surprise as the wolf rested beside Kasha while she worked and slept beside her at night. Never had he been so close to any of them. Prince became the woman’s best friend and her companion. He was no longer a wolf in her eyes, but a creature just as human as herself.

            One night as Prince was settling down beside her, Kasha wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face into the thick mane of fur. “I love you,” she whispered. She said it without thought or purpose. To her it was simply a truth, requiring no reasoning or planning.

            The wolf pulled away from her slightly, drawing a quick breath, his bright blue eyes locked on her. Suddenly the face of the wolf began to shift, the fur under Kasha’s hands turned to skin, paws became hands and feet. Then there was only a man where once there had been a wolf. Tearing his gaze from hers he raised one hand, examining it closely, wonderingly. Looking back up at Kasha, Prince raised his hand to softly stroke her face.

            “Thank you,” he said, with such love that Kasha’s eyes filled with tears. Looking into her eyes he leaned toward her, touching his lips softly to hers. “Thank you.”

That night Kasha’s wolf told her a story of treachery, magic, and a terrible curse.

But that is another tale. For now, this is: The End.