One Shot: Sorrow Song

She was woken up by the howling of wolves. The sound that usually echoed so distantly among the mountains was much closer, much clearer, and it made her eyes fly open. Next to her in the small bed they shared, her ma shifted slightly in her sleep but did not wake. Daine sat up carefully, hugging her knees against the cold and slowly letting the blanket fall away. Even at such a young age, she had learned the hard way how to keep warm in the thin mountain air; the sudden sharpness of winter still lingered in the air, and promised sickness to those who inhaled it too quickly. She looked ruefully at the fire, wishing she could light it like ma wanted her to. She had learned the slow way- the way of flint- but there was no point when ma could wake up at any moment and light it with a gesture of her hand. She sleepily rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and stood up, stepping carefully over her ma's sleeping body and jumping quietly down from the bed. The wolves still howled.

She wondered sleepily why it had roused her. There was no sense of danger, like there had been the last time the bandits attacked the village. And the sound hadn't been loud- just the sad cries that she had been hearing for each night of the six years of her life. The thought made her pause. Sad? Why would she suddenly think that? The howling had always sounded happy to her, like laughing or yelling to the other children in the village when they played. Why would it suddenly sound sad?

She jumped up to reach the door latch and winced when the peg clattered to the floor. There was a sigh from the bed, but no other sound. The girl grinned and slowly creaked the door open, staring outside. The howling was louder with the door open, but she couldn't see anything. Softly, she pulled her boots and a cloak on, and closed the door behind her as she left.

She was halfway down the forest trail when she realised what she was doing. The years of bedtime stories came back to her in a jarring instant- the naughty child who ran away from home and was eaten by monsters! The poor mother who was left to follow her son's footprints in the mud for all eternity, not knowing that the monster left the very same tracks. She bit her lip and looked down at the soil- still frozen: no mud, no footprints. Well, that was alright then. At least if the monsters got her, ma would be able to stay at home. She squared her shoulders and strode deeper into the woods. Because the sun was still rising, the path seemed to get lighter as she entered the darker groves of fir and pine, frozen decayed needles cracking under her determined boots. The wolves were louder now: less an echo than a simple song. The child still felt no fear; she only wanted to know what sad song they were singing. The trail ended in a large clearing. When the trees suddenly opened up, she stopped dead.

An entire pack of wolves was in the clearing, each howling at the sky with that sad melody. Daine couldn't count, but she could see that there were more wolves here than there were people in the village. The sight removed every scrap of sleepiness and bravado from her veins; despite herself, she felt her legs turn to ice. The animals that she had seen from a safe distance were elegant and soft, with bright eyes in smooth faces. These wolves were close, and they were nothing like that. She could see their teeth, their claws that scrabbled amongst the stones. Their soft fur was matted, or dust-smeared, or jumping with tics. A sharp, heavy musk came from them, drifting towards her on the breeze, and with horror she saw that some had remnants of blood smeared into their fur. Frozen to the ground, afraid to even blink, she wasn't aware that she'd let out a small whimper of fear until every head snapped around and stared at her.

The nearest wolf snarled and jumped towards her, impossibly quick. Even if she could move, Daine wouldn't have been able to dodge its attack. It knocked her over easily and pinned her to the ground, snarling into her face. Its breath was noxious. But past the teeth, past the terrifying growl, Daine was suddenly aware of its liquid brown eyes. There was no hunger there, no danger, just sadness. Without thinking, the girl reached up and patted the wolf's fur.

"I'm sorry." She said, "I'm sorry you're sad."

The wolf made a sudden movement, and she flinched away, eyes squeezed tightly shut. When she opened them again, the wolf was walking away, back into the pack. As if by some command, the other wolves left the child alone and followed it. In unison, they returned to their howling. Daine climbed shakily to her feet, no longer scared, and stared at them silently. The song drifted in her ears, wordless, and yet she almost felt like she could understand what it said.

As the sun rose, the girl stood silently on the edge of the clearing, listening to the wolves. When they stopped and disappeared as one into the trees she made her way thoughtfully back home, knowing that they wouldn't hurt her. She had seen the same look in the eyes of some of her ma's patients, when the children were birthed without breath in their lungs. At times like that, she knew not to say a word, not to disturb the quiet sounds of weeping that were the only outlet the women had. The only time she could ever remember ma slapping her was when she'd burst noisily into the room, not knowing that death was still lingering inside.

Her ma looked up from the fireplace when the door opened, her eyes questioning. "You didn't go near the clearing, did you? Old Bern up at the farm said he's been seeing a pack of wolves round here. Said he dug a pit a few days back near the stream. You be careful not to fall in."

"He caught a wolf." Daine said, staring at the floor. "The leader. He died."

Her ma caught her breath as she carefully ladled soup into small bowls. "You saw it?"

"No." Daine still stared at the floor, at the small dots of water that stained the floorboards a darker colour. "The pack told me. I could understand them."