The sun was setting, spilling its blood onto the cool surface of the lake. Frigid winds of autumn blew through the land of Retalia, and along the rocky shoreline of the lake two pinpricks of gold sat, blinking, gazing out onto the depths of the lake. It was one of the Varg themselves. His proud wolf body sat straight and erect, the black of his fur tumbling in the wind. His ears flicked, his right one tattered, as he listened to his surroundings. He sniffed, his maw raised to the wind, and one could almost see the smile erupt onto his face as he howled. His voice was pure and unearthly, rising over the towering treetops and floating over the vast lake. He waited for a moment, the trees behind him whispering to the rocky shoreline. He didn’t have to wait long.

A howl was heard in return, it sounded like the waves crashing towards shore, powerful then receding. Another Varg appeared out of the dense treetops a few meters from where the former was sitting. The male turned his head to watch as a silver, thin, small, female emerged from the undergrowth, her pink tongue lolling out of her powerful jaws. She shook her fur and began to trot towards the male, who got to his feet and ran the rest of the distance between them to nuzzle her in a friendly manner, one of companionship, and rub his body with hers, sharing the pack sent.

“Sakrie,” he greeted her. His voice was deep and strong, filling the ears of the female wolf, “it’s nice to see you, it’s been a while.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Zenic,” she laughed and sat down, looking over at the moon, “She’s beautiful tonight.” She commented and dipped her head in a small bow to the moon, “I’ve never seen her so bright.”

Zenic sighed wistfully as he turned his head to gaze at the orb hanging in the sky, he smiled, his ivory fangs flashing against his black lips, “The goddess smiles on the Varg tonight.” He said softly, also bowing toward the full glow of the moon. He respected the Goddess, she had given him everything, his home, his pack, his life. Where would he be without Her?

He turned his head back to his best-friend, “So where have you been the past few moons? I haven’t seen you.” He had missed Sakrie, the only Varg he had known since pup-hood, the only one who had trusted him after his fight with another up that had managed to end in death. It was a matter of survival, and he had won. He flicked his ear, reminded of the way he got the wound.

“I’ve been at the trading place.” Sakrie’s voice sounded softly, “I met the Angel scum there, they really are as bad as we think. I can’t believe what they think the Goddess to be.”

Zenic shook his head, “I would have to see for myself. I cannot believe it.”

“But it’s true!” she gestured to the moon with her maw, “They don’t believe that we were created by the Goddess with a fang of a Varg and a feather of an Angel, and the hair of a Vampire. They don’t believe in our connection, our unity…”

Zenic shook his head again, vigorously, “My heart can’t believe it until I see it. But until that time comes for judgment myself, I will believe yours.” He smiled and nuzzled Sakrie. “Come, let us stroll together, as our other form.”

The moonlight danced around the two as their bodies stretched, fur dropped away and became skin and hair. Their maw’s shrunk, and their hair grew on their heads, becoming wild and untamed. Their bodies shuddered as their ears poked through their untamed manes. There they were, human, somewhat.

Unlike humans, their ears were that of wolves, swiveling in their skulls. Zenic stood proudly, his muscular chest bulging and his wild hair curling down his neck to his shoulders and into his wolfish golden eyes. His right ear, the tattered one, appeared to be the same. His skin was darkly tanned and filled with scares from the undergrowth, his legs were one of those who ran often, and his black tail curled proudly upwards, exposing his backside and his Beta ranking. He had an untamed handsomeness about him as he shook his hair from his eyes, looking at his friend.

She appeared much like him, except for her chest was fuller and hair silver. Another thing about the Varg, they don’t notice beauty in their kind. Sakrie was beautiful. He smiled at her, the ivory of his fangs the same as before. “Let’s go,” he whispered softly and began to trot in the woods, his hard callused feet pounding softly on the lake-bed.

Sakrie watched him go for a moment before running to catch up, her legs straining to reach him in her shorter body. She found him waiting for her before an entrance to a den where the pack slept. He was sitting on a flat bolder a few feet away, flicking the dirt from under his nails. She smiled and walked over to him, shaking her head.

The place in which they were smelt deeply of musk from the pack, a strong, sweet sent, making both Varg relax. The trees bent inwards around them, dropping their leaves onto the floor and providing padding for feet and cover from dirt. The moon shone brightly above the den, casting a glow in the clearing, and the rocks piled here and there, making easy sitting spots for tired Varg who weren’t just ready to go into the den.

“Took you long enough,” Zenic jeered, his golden eyes flitting upwards casually, a spark of playfulness in them, “if you ran any slower I would have had to go back and look for you.” The corners of his mouth twitched as she rolled her silver eyes. He felt so lucky to have such a friend.

“Zenic,” she sighed, exasperated. A glint of what he recognized as cunning formed in her eyes. “Zenic.” She repeated, and he looked at her strangely.

“Yes…”

“I’ve got a dare for you, just like when we were pups!” Her eyes flashed dangerously and Zenic shivered. They were eighteen, they had no business doing these types of things again. It was puppyish.

‘What is she up to?’ he asked himself silently, watching as her body strained in excitement, knowing he probably wouldn’t like this dare.

“Do tell.” He said instead, his eyes flashing and a full smile appearing on his lips. Like the majority of his kind, he did love a good challenge.

“I dare you to go to the No-Mans zone. Not tonight… tomorrow perhaps. You must stay there for three days and talk with an Angel there. It must be an adult, and you must bring up the Goddess.” The smile was replaced with a sinister sneer, “Unless you’re too afraid?”

His lips curled into a small growl, his face changing to one who had been insulted, “Me? Afraid?” he retorted proudly, sitting up a little straighter, “I am no such thing.” His golden eyes met her silver ones, challenging her to deny the fact. She looked away.

“Then accept my dare. I will tell the Alpha’s myself where you went.” She turned her head to face him again and sat down on the ground, crossing her legs, her tail flicking cautiously. She was on dangerous ground. “You said yourself you wanted to make your own judgment.”

Zenic closed his eyes, thinking. ‘If I go I’ll have to meet the kind that the Varg hate, fear, and actually talk to one… but on the other hand I f I don’t go I’ll never hear the end of it. She is right, I do want to make my own judgment. Goddess, why do I do this to myself?’ His eyes opened and he gazed at Sakrie for a moment before saying, his voice horse, “I accept your dare. I will leave tomorrow, at moonrise, after the Dance.”

Sakrie nodded, smiling. Zenic laughed his voice deep and his eyes lit in sudden realization. ‘She knew I would do it.’ His golden eyes followed her as she got to her feet and looked up at the sky, her long silver hair tumbling down her shoulders. She startled him by speaking, he had been lost in his own thoughts.

“Speaking of the Dance, it should be wonderful tomorrow. The Alphas are finally going to let the new pups join,” a wide grin appeared on her face, Varg loved their pups. “It’s going to be beautiful.”

Zenic yawned, “That’s good.” He said quietly, not in the mood to talk just then, but just to gaze at the moon Herself.

They stayed in a content silence for a while, eyes attached to the moon and the stars above. Finally, Zenic pointed, tracing out a constellation with a claw-like finger. “Do you remember the story of Renia?” he asked his companion, leaning back on the bolder, his hair tumbling down and body slightly shivering as it pressed against the cool rock.

“I do, but tell it again Zenic, I may have forgotten.” She sat down on the dirt, leaning her head against the bolder, her eyes closed as she listened.

Zenic traced his eyes on the constellation a few more times, remembering when he was a pup and the story was told to him from his Father. The constellation resembled two Varg fighting, one wolf and one human.

“It was long ago, many puts before us, at the dawn of time. The Goddess created two siblings, the male, Simoian, and female, Renia. They were the first Varg. She placed them in her forest, where game was plenty and the moon always shone above, even in the daylight, to remind them what they stood for, Her, in all Her Glory. She then placed a white buck into the woods with them. He was a proud creature, with a full set of antlers and a bright white coat. Flawless. Any Varg would be lucky to catch such a prize, but the buck had one fatal flaw. At one point in the year it would loose its antlers, the only thing keeping the Varg at bay.

Yet, the Goddess looked down on Renia and Simoian, who were tempted by this beast, and told them not to attack the Stag.” Zenic paused, recollecting his thoughts, gazing at the constellation, as if it itself told him the story.

“It was hard for them to obey her wish, especially in the winter, where game was scarce. Soon Renia found herself standing downwind from the buck, her fangs dripping saliva. Her proud white body was shaking as she did what she was forbidden to do. She hunted the stag.

With feet like wings she soared like a hawk down to the Stag and pounced on him, causing a long, deep, gash in its side. The blood soaked into its surrounding fur, tainting its purity, but it got away,” Zenic laughed then, his voice shaking slightly with the power of the story before going on, his voice getting stronger and more sure of himself.

“The goddess was very angry. She told Renia that if Simoian or herself did something like that again, a dreadful curse would be lain upon them, changing their species forever.

Renia and Simoian were afraid of this threat, and for many years the stag lived, its scar livid on its side. Soon, the Vampire came, with fangs sharper then that of a Varg’s. Yet, the two races lived in peace, finding unity within the hunt.

Soon a Vampire, named Bloodrain, came to Simion, taunting him, saying he couldn’t kill the White Stag even if he tried. For now, among other races, it had become a sport to try and kill the beautiful creature.

“I could kill it with my paws tied, Vampire!” Simoian had snarled.” Zenic’s voice was low and deep, mimicking what he thought Simoian’s voice would sound like.

“Simoian’s pride had gotten in the way of the Goddess, he had forgotten about his promise, as did Renia, and soon they found themselves stalking the White Stag.

It was a glorious hunt. They ripped with their fangs and their claws, pushing them deep into the skin of the Stag, who at that time had no antlers. All they had to worry about was the sharp hooves and teeth. It took hours for the Stag to fall, but eventually, fall he did, spilling his pure blood onto the ground.” Zenic shuddered, his eyes closed as he paused in the story, seeming not being able to continue.

“Zenic!” Sarkie cried, frustrated, “You can’t just stop!”

Zenic laughed softly at her frustration before continuing, “She came of course, weeping Her misery. The Stag lay on the ground, and when She bent over him, Her tears fell into his wounds. The world shook and from the Stag’s body erupted his spirit, silvery, like a wisp of cloud.” Zenic raised his paw-like hand and waved it around, trying to show what he meant, before continuing. “She then turned to the Varg, Her face like fire. Her eyes burned with rage as She turned on Reina, Her face dark.

“Because of what you have done, your kind shall always feel the pain of pups. They shall not all live to see daylight, and very few will survive afterwards, and you will share their pain, because you are their Mother. You will understand the pain you have caused Me by killing one of My Children.”

“And Reina wept, for she knew that soon pups would stir in her belly, and she knew that they would have to suffer her same fate. The Goddess then turned to Simoian, eyes like lightning.

“And for what you have done Simoian,” she growled, Her voice deadly, like the venom of a snake, “You have caused the Varg to no longer have one form. You will be two, not wolf, and not human, a mixture of both. You will suffer ridicule from other species for thousands of years, and you shall work for your game. It shall be harder for you to obtain, causing you to starve in the cruel frigid winters.”

Zenic paused, taking a deep breath, “And then, Simoian wept with his mate, his tears falling onto the dead ground. The Goddess watched them, a vicious smile on Her lips, before She vanished, like she was never there. And that is how the Varg became part human, why they love pups, and why game doesn’t come to us in the winter.”

“That’s not the end of the story,” a deep voice filtered through the clearing and a Varg entered it. He was old, grizzled, and his ears no longer stood proud. His tail lay limp, thin, and no longer its prime. His face was aged, and three livid scars ran across his frail face. His hair was a deep white and gray, and his body was wrinkled, like that of an apple in the end of spring. He shook as he walked toward a bolder and sat across from the two Varg. His eyes glinted in the moonlight, a film of white. He was blind. Yet, for all his faults, a sense of wisdom rolled off the elder Varg, a sense of pride, and a sense of all knowing.

“Father,” Zenic bowed his head in respect for the elder, whom all called Father but who was truly his.

“Zenic,” he returned the greeting, then sniffed, his eyes wandering to where Sakrie sat, though he could not see her. “Sakrie.”

“Greetings, Father,” she walked toward him and rested her forehead on his hand and then kissed it in a sign of respect and love before sitting down at his feet, her tail thumping the ground.

“Zenic,” his father continued, “you did not tell all of the story. I thought I taught you better then that, as the Keeper of Stories and Wisdom of the Varg. Soon you shall be in my place! This is one of the first stories you ever learned.” His face was one of disapproval but calm as he clutched his paw like hands in his lap.

“I am sorry, Father.” Zenic bowed his head, “What part of the sacred tale did I forget?”

The lines in his father’s face deepened, as if he felt Zenic was mocking him. Then he laughed, the sound reminded Zenic of wind through the willow trees. “The fight!” his father exclaimed, “The fight between Reina and Simoian! Why the constellation is as it is!”

“But that is another story!” Zenic cried, lifting his paws in the air in exasperation, “It’s how you told it to me yourself!”
“Maybe that is so, but you did ask Sakrie if she knew the story of Reina… You told the wrong tale.”

Zenic bowed his head, subdued, “Then tell it yourself.” He growled softly, his voice low.

“Respect your elders, Zenic. You may be Beta but I am your Father, and your Keeper of Tales. This pack would be nothing without me” A cunning smile formed on the old face, and Zenic looked up to meet it. What he said was the truth. A Varg pack would fall apart without its stories, it was what life was based off, the belief of the Goddess.

Zenic watched as Sakrie gripped the Father’s gnarled hand. “Please, tell the story Father, I want to know,” she pleaded, her soft face intent.

The grizzled Varg grinned down at the young Varg, “Aye, that I will.” He closed his blind eyes for a moment, leaning back against the tree trunk behind him. His face changed, as he was gaining the power of the Gods. His old frail body seemed to grow in strength as he gathered the words within himself. “As Zenic was saying, Simoian and Reina wept. But soon their sorrow turned to anger.” He opened his sightless eyes and spoke as if in a trance, his voice rising and falling with the words as if it was his own life he was speaking of. “Renia turned to Simoian and accused him of being vain, prideful, and stupid. Simoian in turn accused Renia of being weak, spineless, and a scavenger.

“The pain of the words ripped at each of their souls, for days they were uneasy, until they realized that the Goddess had bestowed Reina with pups. The two were overjoyed and worked hard in the preparation of a den suitable for the first Varg litter.

“It was of the third moon when the pups came. Reina was in immense pain, and Simoian, standing outside the den, cried as he heard his mate give birth, the sound was so horrible. He could not help her. Of the litter of eight, four survived.” Father stopped, pausing to take a deep breath before continuing.

“Renia, when her strength returned, was angered at Simoian for his mistake with the Goddess. Sorrow and pain ripped at her heart for her lost pups, the ones that would never see the light of day. She accused Simoian, in her heart, for being the cause.

“When the pups were old enough to be left alone in the den Reina attacked. As the form of a woman she charged Simoian in his sleep, a sharpened stick as her weapon. She stood over the Varg, her mate, her brother, the sharpened stick hovering right above his heart.

“Simoian awakened and they fought, his fangs against her spear. They fought for days, weeks, until both fell, exhausted, by the foot of the den. Reina then remembered her pups. She heard no sound from the den, and with her spare strength she crawled into it. Two lay dead.” Tears streamed from the old Varg’s eyes as he told the tale, the two younger Varg watched, their bodies trembling as they listened.

“The other two were malnourished and dying. They grew to be Nukan and Eventine, but that is another story.” The elder coughed, his whole body shaking like that of the younger Varg.

“Renia and Simoian realized that there was more to life then their battle. The battle for life was greater. With effort they managed to care for the pups, but they never did grow whole again.” The Father stopped, his voice ragged, “and that is the story of Reina and Simion.”