Chapter 2: The Direwolf of Murkfell
Lucien
That was close. She had almost seen me when she cast her light. But I, like the other animals in this dismal forest, am drawn to her light. I had to take a closer look.
Ravyn hadn’t warned me anyone was coming through the Murkfell today, much less a Red Cloak. She should have seen it in her scrying mirror. Besides being healers and midwives, the Red Cloaks are witches with elemental powers themselves, but none that rival Ravyn’s. According to Ravyn. I have never met a Red Cloak.
Until now.
I am walking the perimeter of the Murkfell as I usually do, when suddenly, through the murk, I see a light glowing, soft, warm, and beckoning.
I creep toward the source of light, lest they be more hunters trying to pilfer their glory by killing the Murkfell dire wolf. Me. But I feel no malice from this light.
From between the trees, I can finally see a young woman, dark hair cascading out of her red hood, walking purposefully yet carefully down the path toward the village. The poor creature, braving the Murkfell to get to her post on time instead of going the long way around. She looks small and harmless enough to me, carrying a battered old carpetbag in one hand and a lantern in the other.
But upon closer inspection, the light emanates from her hand, not a lantern…
Could it be?
I follow her on silent enchanted paws, stalking unheard. My camouflage makes me undetectable by the regular human eye. But this Red Cloak is no mundane.
She is indeed a witch. And not just any witch.
I follow her for what seems like an eternity through the forest. She never feels my presence.
A witch with the power of goodness and light
can overcome Ravyn’s darkness and might.
The lines from the children’s poem come unbidden to my mind, where shattered memories would lie dormant until triggered, like now. Though I had not grown up in Murkfell, I had heard the rumors as a child about a darkling witch of the wood before I made my way through the Murkfell Wood that fateful day.
Then Ravyn herself had told me of the prophecy: of a witch from Moonbright who would one day cause her downfall. It wasn’t until she entrapped me that the poem was written. How long has it been? A decade? A century? I have no sense of time here.
The Dire Wolf of Murkfell | Created by H.R. Parker in Midjourney
Beware, young child, the witch of the wood,
Who makes the Murk so fell;
So wicked was she
She had to flee
The light of the tolling bell.
She built her house in the murk of the wood
A most unwelcoming sight
Shields and spells
Darkness and bells
Her house in the Murk was a blight.
Alone she lived, until one morn
A handsome young prince lost his way
Sun and light
His magic so bright
As bright as the brightest of days.
This golden prince, thought the darkling witch,
is more powerful than I
For the light is bright
And drowns out my might
He must be destroyed by and by.
For she remembered the prophecy that haunted her so
From each tortuous night til day:
A witch with the power of moon and light
can overcome Ravyn’s
darkness and might.
So down she called her ravens so dark
To swarm the unknowing prince
Taken by surprise
Even though so wise
He was never heard from since
Her ravens swooped, her ravens swarmed
The prince was now her own
With a flourish of spells
And witch’s bells
A wolf he now is, fur to bone.
Beware, young child, the witch of the wood,
Who makes the Murk so fell;
Step not ye near
Or Ravyn will appear
And put ye under her spell.
If this Red Cloak has the power of light, might she be the one to defeat Ravyn and banish my curse? She has to be a Moonbright witch. No other witches have the power of the cosmos except Moonbrights. And Ravyn.
I stop and sit in a dense thicket as the young woman nestles in the roots of an oak, surrounded by woodland creatures, who no doubt have also been attracted to her just like I was. I am a beast, after all.
Entranced, I watched her silently, barely breathing. It has been years since I have seen another human like this one. Ever since Ravyn had bound me to this beastly body, I had only been in contact with her and the arrogant hunters who wanted my head as some sort of gruesome trophy to prove their bravery and courage. Foolishness, more like. The other villagers are too afraid to enter here, and horses bolt before stepping foot into its black abyss. Ravyn Rathmore had made Murkfell Wood a fell wood indeed.
The animals surround the Red Cloak, entranced by the light orb that flows around her, giving them all light and heat. Birds land on her hand, the deer licks her fingers, and the chipmunks climb into the folds of her wool cloak, red as blood, and curl up to nap.
Her light reminds me of… Think no more about that. That was so long ago.
If she is the one who can break my curse, how can I approach her without frightening her?
She is a Moonbright witch. There was no doubt about that.
I have to figure out a way to get the Red Cloak to help me before I am bound to Ravyn and the Murkfell forever. And the clock is ticking.
To be continued…
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