The Dark Ages of Wolves

The Barbarian Camp

My eyes flutter open. I stare around the space, taking in the new world around me. My hands slide up my body, feeling my bare chest beneath a clean sheet. Good lord, I've been undressed. A nervous tingling heats my face. I gaze about the room, finding the door, and a fresh set of clothes. Well, at least I'm alone to get dressed. The clothes aren't that much different. They're light gray, but they aren't tattered or faded. These look new and clean. I bring the blouse up to my nose and let out a deep exhale. It smells like fresh soaps like they were just washed. If the previous events had been different, this would be quite nice. I look to the door again, hurrying to get dressed before someone might walk in on me. The fabric falls over my body, soft and delicate. It's a good feeling. The door swings open, and I immediately back into the room's corner. He's of average height, but his bulky presence fills the small space.

"Aw, now don't be afraid. I just want you to step out now," says the strange man, making a gesture for me to come outside. The man's bare arms are covered in faded scars like he's fought with blades for some time. I press my lips together in a tight line. If I follow, I'll be exposed to whatever world I'm in now. But I need to figure out where I am if I have any hope of escape. So, I tag along, into the barbarian's camp. There're cabins all around. Mostly small looking, nothing grand and spectacular as far as I can see.

"Where am I? Who are you?" I question.

"T-Tristen," he states, "And welcome to our camp. This is where you will be staying for a while," Tristen tells me. A while, not forever, "Now I wish I could show you around, but I'm afraid there is work that must be done," Tristen explains.

"How did I get here? What happened to the village?" I wonder.

"There was a fight that got out of hand. We got involved. A wolf was chasing you, so we thought it best to bring you here where you'd be safe," Tristen explains.

"And the work? What kind of work?" I question.

"Anything to make your stay's worth," Tristen tells me, "Helga!" he calls with a low tone, his voice booming above the chitter-chatter around the camp. Helga, a woman whose reddish-brown hair was pinned in two buns, came running over. Her brown eyes glanced up at me from Tristen's feet.

"Yes, sire," she says. Helga stands tall in the exact same outfit I wore. She's quite bony and thin, her cheeks sunken in. Despite her small frame, she's close to taller than Tristen here.

"I want you to train Miss-" Tristen begins, his eyes expecting an answer.

"Jade," I mumble, and he smiles at my cooperation.

"Miss Jade in the kitchen. I feel she'd be an excellent hand," Tristen decides, scratching at his chin, his head tilted ever so slightly. I cringe at my name in his mouth. Tristen is something of a gruff, bulk-built man.

"Yes, sire," Helga replies monotonously.

"Most splendid, my good ladies," Tristen says with the tip of his head, he dismisses himself.

"Come hither, we shall go to the kitchen, Jade," Helga orders, gesturing for me to come along.

"Yes, Miss Helga," I answer, and without haste, we head for the kitchens.

"Please, it's just Helga," Helga corrects me. I nod in acknowledgment, offering a weak smile at her friendliness.

"Helga, where are we? Why have they-," I start wondering.

"Do not fear them. You will eventually come to like it here," Helga tells me with a reassuring smile, "It's a small farm not far off from your village that was burning. We have made this place our home, our refuge from the barbarians. Here we can be with other humans not in fear of the werewolves; in fact, the wolf people are here as our slaves," Helga informs me. We finally stop at the main building among the other cabins. Just outside the dining hall off to the side lies a small garden. I notice tall, beefy green stalks shooting up from the ground. Perhaps they're growing tomatoes or peppers there. We move along too fast for me to get a good look, though. Within the building itself lies a massive kitchen smelling of fishes, meats, and sweets baking. It's warm and makes my mouth water. Helga brings me into the kitchen, bustling with activity. "We'll be working here together some time," Helga adds.