I began my life with my mother. She was a solitary wolf-daughter, sometimes I suspected she was a full-blooded half-wolf, it would certainly explain a lot about my past. She never changed in front of me though, nothing more than the jaws or the coat at least.
But I only knew her for three years. My father introduced himself to me four years after his little affair with my mother, now a fully-fledged member of the Silver Flame church. My mother had become a skeleton in his closet that had to be erased. Relations with lycanthropes is worse than bestiality to the Silver Flame.
One night the door of our hut exploded inward, followed by a column of flame. In seconds my mother's blood boiled and the flame ceased, leaving only the smell of burnt fur.
"Child? Where are you my child, let me see you." My father stepped carefully in the hut, an orb of light hovering above his hand. Somehow he wore a smile. As if he expected me to run into his arms, happy he'd freed me from my mother the monster wolf.
And then he saw me, and the smile faded.
No comments:
Post a Comment