It all started when a lupus homo mutante had gone mad and killed one of my kin. Of course, he probably didn't mean to, but they did, with her unarmed. She was killed brutally; I saw her corpse with my own eyes, ripped to the point no skin was to be shown except her face, which declared her emotions of fear. They claimed that we were threatening the lone wolf with words of poison, trying to lure their kin to the sacred water; however we spoke to the trees, the only witnesses at the scene, and confirmed it was because the wolf had lost their humanity in the brightness of a full moon.
It shouldn't have happened.
Neither of our kind have ever purposely tried to cross our paths before because we felt we had no need to; the werewolves were always bickering with the undead, the sanquis bibulis, the 'blood suckers,' or as they are better known as, the vampires. The werewolves, as they are better known as today, we call 'lupus homo mutante', which is 'human wolf changer'. (We all speak fluent Latin, the original language of our times, but must learn many other languages as well due to the change of our becoming world.)
Their pack leader, we call him ingens lupus, which is 'great wolf', was furious with our reply, and thought only of his pack when he declared a war against my kin.
I understand why he wouldn't go against his own brethrens word; the thought of betrayal from his own kind would decrease his reputation and pride throughout the whole wolf pack.
And so, Magno Proelio Lupi Dryadalum began.
It wasn't bloody at first, as both sides were preparing for battle. My father owned the stables in my village and helped prepare the horses for battle, though my father highly doubted we would use them as they would get very easily injured while in battle. I helped as much as I can, my young mind thrilled to be part of the fight. My mother would be in the armoury, helping our soon-to-be soldiers be properly dressed for when the time came, which included my older brother and sister. I was disappointed that I couldn't be part of the war, however I was quite bright for a youngling and understood that not only was I too young to sign up, I was also the youngest of my family, and by law the youngest cannot participate in battle for they must continue the line of their family in case all were to decease. I was the last hope, the spe, which means 'hope'.
Many thought that this war would only go for a couple months, most.
But the unthinkable happened.
The lupus homo mutante made an alliance with the sanquis bibulis, doubling their strength against us.
We were surprised greatly; we never thought that the vampires would join forces with the wolves. Ever. However, it happened, and when my kin came through the forest expecting to win, pride high and confidence soaring, they came out of the shadows and killed more than half of our warriors.
That was when the first blood was officially spilt.
My brother, Arbellason, which means 'noble strength' in our native tongue, next to Latin, was thrilled yet secretly frightened to face the blood suckers for the first time. No one in my village had ever faced one before, mainly because we never had to; like the wolves, there was no reason to fight them until that horrid day.
My poor sister, Airemana, which means 'holy' and 'good', was terribly afraid, thinking that they would come in the middle of the night to suck all of us dry. My mother insisted that she stopped speaking such negative words, especially in front of me. Sometimes at night, I would let my mind wander and imagine that one was in my home, creeping into my room with their pale, flaky skin, maniacally wide, red eyes, sharp, evil smile, and lengthy black, stringy hair, 5 inch fangs protruding from their gums. I would get myself so interlocked in the image that I wouldn't be able to sleep unless I was with my parents in their bed.
Everyone in my village was assigned to something: My father the stables, as usual, my mother the armoury, Arbellason was the leader of one the sword units (S 16), Airemana was one of the main holy archer units (HA 9), my uncle, Nestarion, was the main healer of his healing unit (H 1), my grandfather, Idhrenohtar, was made the general of all the units, due to him being the most experienced warrior and the oldest in our village, my oldest cousin, Sairahiniel, was made to be the mind of the battle, due to her quick wittiness, and I… I was assigned to cleaning duty. One could see why I was so jealous and envyous, but yet I still understood why I was assigned to such a petty job. Even now, I surprise myself with my intelligence and understanding then, especially since I would have gone wild if that were to happen to me now.
On a chilly fall day in autumn, what the humans would say was the 3rd of November, the militia from our neighboring villages came together to form an official fleet in our village. I was forbidden to go outside, but when my parents left the house I ran to the window in our dining room to see my kin all gathered together from far and wide. My grandfather Idhrenohtar met with the other generals to discuss the next upcoming plans. I could not hear anything, but what could be seen was marvelous:
Everyone had the shiny, eye watering armour that tightly wrapped around the torso, legs, and arms of a specific light metal that my mother and other blacksmiths had forged for them, including themselves, including a thick, leather band that was wrapped around their necks, hands, feet for protection. It could be told which warrior was from which due to their physical appearance; my village kin were all tall and olive-skinned with sharp ears and appealing, bright eyes, while the village of the west were short, stubby, with a slight glint of greed in their eyes (and a strange addiction to salt I realized later on), the south were even taller than my fellow villagers with similar appearances with very lean but muscular bodies who moved with grace and had a near egotistic air to them (but all seemed to be quite skilled with the bow), and the east were tall, like us, but much more muscular and anger-driven eyes, who seemed to be very enthusiastic about the war and blood-spill.
I was able to see all of but my mother in that crowd, which worried me at the time- if she caught me watching this gathering and not working, I would clearly get punished! But to me, it was worth the punishment. I was able to see my family with all of these races and all of the sexes of my kin and it amazed me. As I gazed at the crowd I looked for a particular girl and my heart leapt when I finally saw her: The woman I thought I was in love with.
She had a slender frame, her bosom showing her youth of beginning maturity, with thin, green strips of green stems intertwining her long locks of brown hair, and her countenance showed her eagerness while her stormy grey eyes seemed to show a different story. Her name was Caladwen, beautiful, and she certainly was. She was 6 years older than me, and she had always taken care of me since I was a toddler, making sure I wasn't picked on by other children and treating me as if I were in her family. We had became very close, her and I, and I thought of how intimidatingly beautiful she was with her armour on.
As I had predicted, my mother caught me in a daze of my love's glory and punished me with extra work to make up for the time I lost peeping. Ashamed that I was caught, I had slumped back to sweeping, thoughts still wrapped around the shinning armour, my prudent family, my unique race, Caladwen.
That night, I decided that I would proclaim my love for her like in the many stories my grandmother had always spoken about. I was quite the bold lad, I must say. Even now, my thick headedness gets the best of me at times.
I remember it clearly: There was a celebration for the gathering of most of our kin together around our campfire, where a large boar was being roasted over a fire, children near my age and younger were dancing to the music the flutist, harpist, and tambourine player were playing to, which was a soft melodic tune, as the adults and near adults were dressed in their finest attire, gowns and tunics alike. I, myself, was dressed in the finest tunic I had, which had once belonged to my older brother, and searched among the crowd for the woman I loved. I had gone to the market that afternoon after my chores to use all of the money I had saved up to purchase the best licorice and most lovely bouquet of flowers they had so I could proclaim my love for her properly (one could see my innocence) and I felt confident- there would be no way she could resist my proclamation now.
I searched for her between the crowds of adults, near adults, the children, the music players, the cooks, the workers. She was nowhere to be found. Puzzled and disappointed, I realized that I had to take a leak and hid my goods inside of a hollow log before telling my mother I was going into the forest. As I walked through the familiar trees and bushes, I pondered why she wasn't there. After finding a spot to my liking, I did what I was trained for years to do and heard a noise. I almost dropped myself it alarmed me so much, hearing that strange noise. It sounded like a woman, and she was moaning. I thought that perhaps she was in pain and needed help, so I thought about going to the campsite to bring an adult who could help, but after hearing a shrieked moan, I decided that the woman needed help now and ran towards the noise.
The scene I saw in front of me was when my mind started to become less innocent.
I stared shocked as I saw my love completely nude, her gown tossed on the ground beside her next to the tree her back was leaning against to, gripping onto a male from the tribe of the south who was also nude with his tunic laying next to her gown and rocking his hips into her. With every rock towards her, she would shriek or moan and grip him tighter, but with a pleasurable countenance on her, causing me to be confused with how he was hurting her. I was confused, curious, and intrigued, and sat down in the grass to watch.
I thought that they were perhaps doing a dance ritual of some sort before battle; I didn't understand war much, nor why there was a celebration before the warriors had to go to battle. I had thought that it should be sad, not happy like the adults perceive it to be. As I watched them dance I noticed that the male was grunting with every time that he rocked his hips towards her and that she was softly rocking her hips towards him in the same rhythm. Once during that time, I decided that I would try this type of dance in case I were to ever have to go to war and started thrusting my hips forward; when the male rocked back, I did as well, when he rocked forward I would, too and grunt ever so softly so they could not hear me; I didn't know why, but I just knew that they should not see me watching them.
At one point, Caladwen had wrapped her legs around the male's torso and grabbed his hair, tugging it; in response he grunted even louder and rocked faster and harder into her, causing her to scream softly as he moved his hands from the tree to her bottom. I sat there the entire time, watching them and wondering how long this ritual was, until the male rocked harshly into her a number of times, going faster and faster and making her moan louder and louder with every rock until finally he yelled and harsher and harder than all of the times before rocked into her shivering, keeping her suspended in the air as she screamed a loud moan, shaking the leaves in the trees around us. The two panted as they looked at each other, and I affirmed that the dance was over.
Curious as ever, I thought about whether I should ask my love why she was dancing with him; that was until I saw her kiss him. I stared horror struck as the male pulled her closer to him- only elves who loved each other ever kissed! As I felt tears form in my eyes and a sob form in my throat, I ran away from them and forgot about the licorice and flowers.
The next morning all of the warriors from all tribes were getting ready to leave. I had helped prepare the horses for my kin and put the armour on for my brother and sister. While I was giving water to the horses, Caladwen had come to see me one last time before she left. I was very angry with her, and told her that I saw her kissing that male and that I loved her first.
I remember her reaction and words even more clear than the celebration itself.
"Veryan," she said in her angelic bell-like voice, "can thou keepeth a secret?"
I nodded.
"Well, if thou really loved me, thy wouldn't tell anyone about the, ah, kiss, or anything else that might have been seen between my…love… and I. Is that understood? Can I trust thy word?"
I don't remember what exactly I said, however I do know that I agreed before she smiled at me warmly and gave me a hug, accepting my gift of licorice and flowers too kindly before riding off with the rest of my family and kin.
Several months later, my mother and father, who had stayed, received word from the village announcements that Caladwen had died in battle. My heart ached and ached for weeks, thinking that I would never, ever love again. I was proven wrong, of course, many, many years later but in my 8 year old state, I didn't understand about love. I understood about other things instead, like war and why I had to stay at home while the rest are off fighting. I also understood death as we received a letter declaring the death of my brother and sister and requirement of battle for my father. I understood what I shouldn't have understood at a young age, but I did. And so, 10 years later, I understood more of how to survive and how to accept deception. I learned how to be cold and cruel in battle, but still kind towards my kin and the ones I cared about. How to sharpen a sword and saddle a horse in a certain amount of time. How to make sweets like licorice, which I despised the taste of now, and tend flowers. How to roast a boar and present food properly and beautifully. I learned how to fight my enemies and destroy them while working with our aliance, which were the faeries. And more, more than anything else I learned, I learned how to hate.
I learned how to loathe the lupus homo mutante and sanquis bibulis, the werewolves and bloodsuckers that began this damned war that cost the lives of my kin and family and bestowed this curse of suffering upon my people.