I completely and utterly own this story. Those that doubt me shall feel the my wrath and be run through with my silver blade forged in the fires of a volcano over three five centuries ago. I assure you, it is still sharp and deadly. You have been forewarned.
She bowed her red cowled head and allowed herself the chance to feel true grief in over five decades. Though she had gotten older since that fateful day at her grandmother's house, she never truly got over the trauma of being eaten by that damned wolf and surviving when her own grandmother didn't. The sky above rumbled with angry thunder as the clouds darkened from a light gray to a threatening black. The wind picked up slightly ruffling her red cloak as she clenched her fists tight to keep in her sobs of agony and rage.
"-may his soul forever rest in peace. Amen," the priest finished before closing the Bible.
"Amen," the people around her murmured with reverence and bowed heads but she payed them no mind as her eyes stayed planted on her feet.
"Amen," she murmured after and closed her eyes tightly before opening them and looking up to see the priest motioning for the family and friends of the now deceased to pour dirt upon their grave and casket and stepping back. She stayed where she was as her children and grandchildren stepped forward to throw a handful of soil upon his grave. Once the long line of her and her husband's family and friends threw their soil, she stepped forward herself her red cloak billowing out behind her as the wind picked up more. She bent down to get a handful of dirt herself and looked down within the grave.
"Oh, my love," she whispered softly into the hole, "why did you have to leave me all alone? I thought I trained you well enough when we first met. I guess it was my fault that your training wasn't good enough this one time."
She threw the handful of soil in and heard it thump gently upon the wooden top as some of it went into her covered face. She went to turn around but wasn't able to. Her feet seemed to have grown roots and planted themselves within the ground just in front of the grave. A hand came upon her shoulder causing her head to turn to look over her shoulder to see who it was. Her youngest daughter who just reached the age of twenty gave her a watery smile as the sky opened up and began to weep.
"Come, Mama," she said softly and grabbed her around the waist. "let us return to the house."
"Did you hear-"
"He died by a-"
"What will happen to-"
"Do you think Little Red will-"
The whispers of those behind her and around her reached her ears and she stiffened as her daughter led her farther toward their home that would be emptier without him. They were talking about it. About what happened to him and to her. She didn't bother to turn around and glare. She didn't bother to speak. She didn't even bother to do anything but listen at the moment. It was like when she eight years old all over again and the village gossiped about the Werewolf attack and the death of her grandmother. They still whispered about that day sometimes when she was within hearing range. But this time, it was about who died a week ago. Not when she was eight years old.
Her daughter murmured to her to ignore and ignore it she did. She couldn't focus on her secret village anymore. She couldn't focus on training anymore new recruits. She just wanted to lay down and sleep for the rest of her life.
I'm sorry, love, she thought with a sad sigh and looked up toward the weeping black sky to allow the rain to hit her face. I will not be able to keep my promise to you. Forgive me.
So this is my first chapter to Cry Wolf. What do you guys think? Review and tell me? Pretty please? *hopeful expression*