Wolf Child

I

"Kilfer!" Ferhia yelled to the opposite side of the river, where the scrawny tanned boy some five years her elder was. He turned, and clutched tightly in his hands was a huge bass, large enough to feed two wolves for dinner. Kilfer paddled over to Ferhia, "This catch is enough, little sister. Time to get back."

"I am not little," Ferhia showed a sign of annoyance, but Kilfer simply ignored it with a slight grin on his face.

Above the river, upon the riverbank a wolf stood almost motionlessly, its deep blue eyes fixated on the duo. Finally, it leaped down in a single fluid motion onto the riverbank.

"The Alpha's calling us up, we'd better go," Although Ferhia did not know wolf tongue, she did know that it meant that they should be about ready to leave the river. Kilfer followed, and they climbed out of the water, their tunic wet and heavy, their feet also stained with grime and soil.

Kilfer leaped onto the back of the Alpha and they left, Ferhia trailing behind. Kilfer seemed like a wolf more than a human totally -- with the courage, grace, and strength of the Alpha, as if he was part of the pack -- and she was not.

The forest deepened and the ground steepened as they trailed up the mountain, the Alpha leaping up crevices and ledges while she struggled to keep up, meanwhile trying not to drop the bucket of fish. Sometimes the Alpha would pause and turn back to wait for Ferhia, but most of the time it bounded forward, leaving Ferhia struggling to catch up.

Ferhia's feet hurt as she trudged up the mountain, occasionally twigs and branches underneath her foot would scratch her, and although it happened rarely she would wince each time it scraped her bare soles. Watching Kilfer and the Alpha together in front of her, it made her feel... excluded. Although she tried not to think about it, the Pack and Kilfer always ate together, hunted together and were together, like a family. Yet she was never thought as one family. The wolves hate her presence, and Kilfer would spend more time with the Pack than her.

'The pack has not yet accepted me,' Ferhia thought. She had many dreams, of the pack biting her, flinging her limp body into the river. She knew that it could not possibly happen when Kilfer is still alive, at least, but dreams have meanings.

Ferhia tried to keep these disturbing thoughts to herself and carried on, and finally, after an hour of walking, the forests opened to bare land and the Lair finally came to view. The huge cave was at least thrice the height of even the huge statue of the Wolf God outside the cavern, and as they trod out to the open, above them leading to the cave hundreds of wolves' heads extended out to welcome them, and when they peered out of the ledge beneath them to the horizons miles and miles of land extended out, bathed under the warm glow of the sun.

"Ferhia," Kilfer turned back to her, "Thanks for helping to carry the fish, I will help tomorrow."

"You never do," Ferhia rolled her eyes and dropped the bucket on the stone floor.

"Anyway," Kilfer ignored her, "We need to prepare dinner for the pack, they must be starving."

"And today is your turn to do it," Ferhia mentioned quickly, grinning, "You swore you would prepare dinner yesterday."

"Fine," Kilfer frowned and ruffled the fur of a she-wolf, peering at the direction of the Table, where different coloured berries of different shapes and sizes, and fish were placed on the table, with an entire dead pig dragged back by three canines.

'Great,' Kilfer muttered, 'Now I have work to do.'

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