Wolf Child

V

"Ferhia," Kilfer's voice rang in her head.

Ferhia woke up and saw Kilfer standing above her, peering down. Behind him, the sky was still a shade of dark purple, it was not yet dawn.

"I want to show you something," Kilfer whispered, "Follow me."

Kilfer darted swiftly past the pack who was asleep, but as Ferhia walked past them she was careful not to get too close, for her presence always made them wary, and now they would growl at her as if she was some sort of evil omen.

They walked, their bare feet taking slow and silent steps across the stone floor. Finally, Kilfer stopped behind the statue of the wolf god, the towering figure in the middle of the Lair. Behind it was smooth, gray stone with ancient runes that were carved by the human leaders of the Pack long ago.

"I am going to show you something, that I believe the time is ripe to show it to you now," Kilfer brushed his hands over the cold stone lightly, and paused his hands over a small circular carving on the wall, that, Ferhia supposed, was a rune in the shape of a square with intricate carvings. Then he pressed the rune, and the entire wall of writing was broken into two parts, slowly opening.

"What is this? I've never seen it before," Ferhia gazed into the darkness of the secret passage in awe, but Kilfer placed a finger on his lips.

"We don't want the Alpha to catch wind that I showed you this. They do not like you, I am sure you know about this that they are shunning away from you. But we have more important matters to talk about, about your appearance and the fate of the pack," Kilfer directed her to the stairs that led down to the darkness, "If it pleases you to come with me, sister."

They descended into the darkness, the staircase seemed endless as they trod down, far away continuous drip-drops of water echoed off the walls. When Kilfer paused they had reached a passageway, where the stairs finally ended.

Weird runes, weirder than the writing of the wolf tongue was scrawled on both walls, differing in sizes and shapes.

"This is the writing of the first human leader of the Pack, about a millennium ago," Kilfer turned to Ferhia, grinning, "These were the prophecies of the first human leader of the Pack, Mizervon the Ancient. Not only did he have memories, but prophecies was what he wrote, inscribed in the old wolf tongue, including the famine a century and a half ago. The wolves told me Mizervon died at an age of eighty-three, but when he did no one knew, and he might not have died..."

Seeing Ferhia staring intently at Kilfer, wanting him to continue, he changed the topic, "Now, Ferhia, there is a prophecy told by him. And it would be happening on you -- and it matters to the survival of the pack."

Locking his gaze on a section of the runes he translated aloud:

A millennium later all shall cease to breathe
A millennium later the fall shall dawn
A millennium later the wrath of a caged demon shall send the world to raze
Fear him you shall

All for the survival of a child
All for the sacrifice
But the price shall be great.

When he finished speaking, the only thing they heard was the continuous dripping of water and the echoes of the last line of the prophecy.

"The price shall be great... price shall be great...be great...great...a..."

The last echoes faded into the darkness, and Ferhia found out that she had been staring at Kilfer all the while. Slowly, she piped up, "What does it mean?"

"Who knows?" Kilfer shrugged, "These prophecies are confusing, who knows what it might really mean? But I do know that it is a prophecy about you."

Kilfer fell silent and seemed to be hiding something from her. "So...how did you know?"

But Kilfer did not reply, and stared at the runes, unwilling to look her in the eye. Ferhia waited for awhile, then stood and clambered swiftly up the carved uneven steps, leaving Kilfer alone in the dark...

If you enjoyed this story, please kindly leave a vote, and constructive criticism is accepted in the comments. Thank you!