The Song Of The Wolf (Unedited)

Chapter One

March had arrived with a blast of rain, and hail that hammered against the windows like gunfire. Along with it came a letter announcing her grandmother's death.

Mere days after she was born, they moved from Whitehorse, Canada to live closer to her Mam's family in Skryne, Ireland. The sole reason for the move had been a disagreement between her dad and grandmother, relating to her.

"Sweetheart, a letter came in today," her Mam said that day.

"Congratulations," her Dad said.

"Your mother passed away,"

"At last. May she burn in hell."

Her grandmother had gone out with a bang because to everyone's absolute bewilderment, she had left everything she owned to the grandchild she hadn't seen in 19 years; Maebh. Which included thousands worth of savings, an old pickup truck, and a property without a mortgage.

Her dad had been furious, calling his late mother every name under the sun before forbidding his daughter to go anywhere near the "cursed woman's" house and belongings. But the conditions of the inheritance required Maebh to accept in person, and so, a seed had been planted inside her head, one too determined to grow.

On May 3rd, her plane touched down in Canada after a day-long journey. With a 2-hour car ride ahead, Maebh sat in the back of a taxi with her phone pressed to her ear.

"Hello?" croaked a voice.

"Hi Mam! I've arrived, but the flight was horrendous. I'm bloody wrecked."

There was a momentary silence.

"Luv, It's 4 o'clock in the morning."

"Oh shit sorry, I forgot. Anyway, just wanted to let you know I'm alive. I'll ring you again once I've settled! Is aoibhinn liom tú!"

"I love you too, Maebh. Sleep well."

She loved hearing her Mam say her name. She pronounced it in the Gaelic way, like Mayv. It meant "she who intoxicates" which her parents ought befitting for the effect her eyes had. From day one, the violet colour of her irises had had a strange sway on people —not necessarily in the positive sense.

In her early adolescence, the constant nagging and name-calling of her peers had bordered on bullying. Her Mam said they envied her, but that's what any good mother would say. Once Maebh started wearing coloured contact lenses, the teasing stopped.

Prior to her death, her grandmother had lived in the town of Haines Junction. It was a 100-mile drive from Whitehorse International Airport. According to the letter the attorney had attached to her grandmother's will, the house was located right on the edge of the nearby national park and reserve, with an impressive view of the mountains.

The taxi drove past a sign that welcomed them to Haines Junction, and Maebh felt half-drunk on emotions. Just as the sun had begun to set, and the sky fluoresced in shades of pink, the car came to a halt. Maebh looked at the log house and wrinkled her nose.

"Are you sure this is the right address?"

She heard a snort as the taxi driver exited the car to retrieve her luggage from the boot. She stepped out onto the porch and inspected her new abode.

The home mixed log and timber elements, its foundations raised at least a meter above the ground. The eastern white pine siding gave it a hand-crafted look, down to the dovetail corners. Once upon a time it must have been an impressive feat of work. And it could be again, after a mighty load of blood, sweat and tears.

A polite cough pulled her from her reverie and she scrambled to fish the fare from her coat pocket. With a heavy heart, Maebh handed the driver his earnings and watched the car speed off, leaving a thick cloud of dust in its wake.