AN: I don't own Leverage but I can't seem to stay out of their sandbox.
So there are some fantastic werewolf stories in and around Wisconsin. I have briefly read over some of the Native American stories about shape-shifters, specifically wolf-shifters, from tribes that are or were located in Wisconsin. I enjoyed these stories immensely and I mean no disrespect in borrowing from them here. There is a lot more to these stories than I've used in my own adaptation. I also enjoyed a cursory read on the Beast of Bray Rd. So all the names and places mentioned in my story, that did come from these other stories, bear little if any resemblance to their original sources.
The prologue doesn't involve our favorite Leverage characters but it is germane to the story.
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Seiðr – Type of magic practiced in Norse society during the late Iron Age.
Ergi – social taboo brought on by a man practicing magic in the Seiðr custom.
There are a few Native American names that I have used in this story. I did a brief search on pronunciation so I hope I got this right.
Wisakachek – [Wee-Za-Kah-Check]
Keme – [Keh-me] might mean 'secret thunder'
Matchitehew – [Match-it-AYOO] might mean 'one who has an evil heart'
Ahanu – [ah-Ha-new] might mean 'he laughs'
Meskwaki – [Mez-Kwa-Kee] Fox Tribe
Menominee – [Meh-nah-mini] Wild Rice People or The People
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Cursed
Prologue
Wisakachek
*Many, many, years ago near the shores of Lake Winnebago, Sometime between 1660 and 1680*
"Keme? Where are you?" Matchitehew had heard the snap of his brother's bow string and his cry of victory. He thought that his brother's war cry still sounded too high and shrill, too much like the small girls around camp. He would tease him about it if he could just find him.
"Matchitehew! I have had success come and help!" Keme had spotted his older brother breaking through the trees on the other side of the meadow. He could hardly wait to see his brother's face when Matchitehew saw the fat beautiful doe he had taken down with his bow. He had already thanked the Great Spirit for providing the doe and giving meat, clothing, and tools to the Meskwaki people.
Keme's cry had attracted the attention of more than just his brother. Ulric Askelson had heard the boys and started making his way in their direction. He had come out here with the fur trappers in hopes of making his fortune and enjoying the freedom that the wilderness provided. His last alpha had tried to kill him and that seemed like reason enough to move on. He'd been a werewolf for, well, more years than he could remember and had decided to try life here in the Americas for a while. He wasn't unstable. He didn't care what his pack had thought, he wasn't starting to lose his grip on things. Besides who were they to judge when they hadn't lived half of what he had. He'd show them! He'd build a life here and maybe even a pack.
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More than a week ago Ulric set out from Michilimackinac with three other trappers. They had traveled south mostly along the edge of the great lake. He couldn't remember what people were calling it, but it was a vast body of water. He couldn't see the other side of it and just had to take it on faith at first, that it was a lake and not an ocean. They had just turned west past the tip of the lake when a storm had blown in off the lake. It was early in the year and still very cold and when the storm tore through their camp it had been devastating. John was dead when they found him in the morning, the horses were gone, and most of their supplies had been ruined. Fredrick had decided to turn back and had urged François and, Ulric to join him but Ulric didn't want to turn back. Fredrick didn't know that Ulric was a wolf and that it would take more than a little weather to scare him off.
Ulric hadn't realized that after the storm game would be so scarce on this side of the lake. Ulric had been wandering for days before he smelled the rabbit. The scent came on a light but icy breeze that had practically stabbed winter's chill fingers right through his coat. The rabbit was on the other side of a tiny iced over finger of water on the lake shore. There couldn't be more than a dozen yards between him and the rabbit. Ulric decided that he would be warmer as a wolf, not to mention a much more effective hunter. Slipping out of his clothing and forcing his change to roll over him as quickly as possible, Ulric donned the wolf's shape.
The first five yards out onto the ice had been exactly what he'd expected. The ice was cold under his paws but his wolf found it invigorating. The rabbit was still under the brush just across from him on the other shore. A few more steps and he heard a sound like glass breaking or wood cracking or…the sound of ice breaking. Just as the uncontrollable rush of terror shot through him he felt the ice give way under his paws. The plunge into the icy water turned his whole world white. The sound, the taste, the lack of sight was all white. White-cold that burned as much as it froze. Ulric found his way to the surface but paws aren't designed to grip and grasp the way that human hands are. Forcing his change again, he shifted back to his human form. As he bobbed under the icy water for the third time he was pretty certain that this was where things would end for him.
Suddenly hands reached down into the cold fire and pulled him back up to light and air. Gasping for air he saw two savages stretched out on their bellies on the ice right next to him. They were wearing warm looking leathers, and furs. They seemed to be talking excitedly and it took Ulric several moments before he remembered the name of their language and their people. It didn't matter anyway because he was so cold. So cold. so cold. Ulric threw himself into one more change. They would be warmer and much more filling than the rabbit and when he was finished he could put on their nice warm clothes. Warm clothes. warm clothes.
The screaming started but it was more than the two men. A dozen he hadn't seen on the shore started screaming to warn the men on the ice. In seconds arrows and rocks started flying, even the roar of an old long gun joined the cacophony. Ulric wanted to retreat farther down the shore but first he needed to get off the ice. His claws bought him purchase but not enough to save him from all of the arrows. As he finally made it to shore and into the woods he could finally spare a moment to process exactly what he was hearing. The men had been screaming Wisakachek and pointing at him.
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As Ulric stepped into the meadow he could smell the blood of the deer and the sweat of the boys. This afternoon had been unseasonably warm, which was a pleasant change, and he could see how it would invite the boys out into the woods to hunt. He'd stolen clothing from a village a couple of days ago but hadn't been able to scavenge so much as a mouthful of meat. He was so hungry.
"Keme, go and find a couple of long branches to use for a travois and then we can drag the doe back to camp." Matchitehew prided himself on always knowing what to do. He was, after all two years older than Keme. Soon he would be old enough to join the other young men and not have to wait outside the feasts with the children.
The boys both stopped and turned at the sound of a cracking branch and footsteps. A man they didn't recognize stepped into the little meadow. He was a white man, maybe a fur trapper. They had seen a few of the fur trappers that had visited the village before. But this man was dressed oddly, even for a white man. He was wearing a mishmash of clothing from the Menominee, and the Meskwaki, and none of the usual white-man clothing. Keme didn't like the look of him but Matchitehew seemed at ease so Keme decided to keep his thoughts to himself for the moment.
"Hello boys. What do you have there?" Ulric's mouth watered at the smell of the deer meat. He had picked up a little of the native languages on his past excursions and though he wasn't sure exactly what tribe these boys were from he thought he would try a few words and see if they understood him.
Keme saw the hungry look on the stranger's face and decided to share some of their meat. His people prided themselves on their generosity and Keme didn't want to be thought rude or stingy and bring shame on his family. "Would you like some of our meat?" Keme held out a large piece he'd cut from the deer's haunch.
"That's very kind." Ulric snatched the meat and gobbled it down. Wiping his mouth on his arm he smiled at the boys. "I would also like to give you something in return."
Keme was distracted by the site of the man eating the meat raw. He knew that some parts like a heart or liver might be eaten by a warrior without cooking them, so that a warrior could gain the power of the animal but this was a doe and not a mighty bear and it was just meat and not a heart or liver. Maybe there really was something wrong with this man, or maybe all white men were strange and uncivilized. Keme was a little lost in his thoughts and missed what the man had said.
Matchitehew stepped forward, as the older brother, he should be the one that the stranger talked to. "We ask nothing in return."
"How would you like to hunt as a wolf? You would be faster and stronger, and could take down your prey so much easier." Yes turning these boys might be the perfect way to start his own pack here. Maybe after the boys he could turn the rest of the tribe.
"How can we hunt as wolves?" Matchitehew thought the stranger must be telling some kind of story.
"I am a medicine man for my people and I have a powerful magic. Would you like to see?" He wasn't lying to the boys. In his first village so many years ago he had been Ergi of the Seiðr. With a sly grin Ulric untied the thongs that were holding his leggings and shirts together. Quickly as possible he shifted to wolf.
Matchitehew was amazed to see the stranger suddenly shift into the shape of a great black wolf. He wanted this magic. He would be the most powerful hunter in the tribe maybe in all of the tribes and he would be given a place of honor at the elder's fire and he could even become the leader of their tribe if he had this power.
Keme watched in horror as the man's skin split and dissolved and flowed into the shape of a huge black wolf. "Wisakachek!" Keme grabbed at Matchitehew's arm but his brother was rooted to the spot. Keme was certain that they were in the presence of Wisakachek. The great shape-shifter who preferred the shape of the wolf. In some stories he was kind and was a protector of hunters but in other stories he was a trickster. Keme didn't want to be swept up into one of the great stories and even though it wasn't brave to run back to the village without Matchitehew Keme couldn't help it. He ran.
He didn't make it far before he felt the teeth and claws of Wisakachek. He hadn't ever heard of Wisakachek eating people but maybe no one had ever lived to tell the story.
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When Keme woke up he sat up quickly looking around for Wisakachek. The grass around him was matted and bloody and the blood was smeared over his skin but he couldn't find any wounds. Getting up and looking around he thought that the woods around him looked just like the woods near his village. He knew that if you had been a good warrior you would go on to the great hunting lands after you died but he was surprised that they would look so much like home. Then Keme had the disturbing thought that maybe he hadn't made it to the hunting lands and his spirit had somehow gotten lost. He was about to panic when a very familiar smell came to him. Roast meat and wood smoke wafted past on the evening breeze. His stomach rumbled and he decided to follow the scent.
Not far off in the small meadow Wisakachek had built a small fire and was roasting some of the deer that Keme had killed earlier. So maybe he wasn't dead. This didn't make a lot of sense and he looked around for Matchitehew. Sitting there across the fire from him was his brother. Matchitehew was also smeared with blood but he looked so happy. Something about Matchitehew being happy in the middle of everything that had happened set off an unfamiliar anger in Keme.
"What is there to smile about Matchitehew? You are happy! How can you be happy?!" Keme shoved his brother's shoulder and was shocked to see Matchitehew fly several feet before tumbling across the ground. His brother's eyes flashed a strange yellow color before he got up and charged Keme.
Before long Ulric broke up the fight and sat the boys down on opposite sides of the fire. "There are laws to follow as my wolves. First you will obey my commands, second you will kill no one, third you will bring to me anyone wanting the power of the wolf." Ulric knew that if he could get the boys to tell the village what had happened then more of the warriors would come and he could make them into wolves too. As long as the boys didn't turn anyone all of the wolves would be tied directly to him and that would give him all the power over the pack. Eventually he would have enough wolves to be able to take on his old pack.
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Weeks had gone by since Keme and Matchitehew had returned to their village. The elders hadn't believed their story of meeting Wisakachek in the woods. Wisakachek had told them that they could become wolves whenever they wanted but when the elders had asked to see this magic they hadn't known how to shift from one shape to the other and that was when the elders had decided that they were lying.
The other boys their age had started teasing them and now the elders were considering leaving Matchitehew out of the next feast that welcomed the older boys as young men into the tribe. Keme had noticed that his own temper flared at the least provocation and all day he'd been dealing with an itchy restless feeling. He could see the moon full and heavy in the sky even though it was just past midday. Matchitehew had been sent out on a hunt with four of the other young men while the elders decided what to do about the feast tonight.
Far in the distance Keme could hear screaming. He looked around but no one else seemed to hear it. He went to Ahanu, who was in the nearest wigwam, and asked if he could hear the screaming. Keme was afraid that something bad had happened to the hunting party, but Ahanu said that he didn't hear anything and warned Keme not to make up stories. Keme decided to leave the village and find out for himself what had happened. As he sprinted for the woods he realized that he was moving much faster than the fastest of their warriors. Keme didn't stop to see if anyone else had noticed or was following. As he made his way up the hill side, he started to smell blood. It was a scent he had never smelled before. It didn't smell like deer or rabbit or even the great bear that his grandfather had killed last year. Soon the smell was so strong that it no longer indicated a particular direction to follow anymore.
Keme slowed from his headlong dash through the woods. Blood was dripping from the leaves of a nannyberry bush near the game trail. A few feet farther and he saw a hand sticking out from under the low branches of a pine tree. Keme stopped and pulled gently at the hand to see if the person under the tree needed help. He called softly but no one answered. He pulled a little harder and the forearm slid free and was dangling from Keme's hands. With an exclamation of horror Keme dropped the severed limb and ran further up the trail.
The sounds of shouting and a roar that Keme had never heard before was coming from the top of the hill. As Keme crested the hill he could see three of the older boys from the hunting party trying to keep a huge grey wolf at bay. Somehow Keme knew that the wolf was Matchitehew. One of the young hunters threw his spear and it pierced the wolf's side just in front of his left hip. Keme screamed and sprinted for his brother. He knew that eventually the hunters would kill Matchitehew and he had to try to save his brother.
As Keme sprinted between the hunters and his brother, his change took him by surprise and he tumbled and rolled. He rose in the shape of a large grey wolf, almost as large as his brother. The three hunters started to back away and Keme was ready to let them but apparently Matchitehew wasn't. As soon as he noticed their movements Matchitehew lunged after them. Keme threw himself between his brother and the hunters. A spear lodged itself in his right shoulder and Keme howled. The sound sent the hunters running but stopped Matchitehew. The wolf shape slipped away from Keme, but he still couldn't reach the spear in his shoulder. Matchitehew saw the problem and placing a paw on Keme's back to hold him down he pulled the spear free with his teeth. Keme lay still for several minutes but eventually he decided that he could move again without falling over. Getting up slowly he leaned for a moment against Matchitehew and regained his balance.
Keme looked at his brother who was still in wolf shape and noticed the spear still lodged in front of his left hip. "Can you become a man again?"
Whine
"Want me to pull that out?"
Whine
"Okay. Be brave." His father always told them to be brave before he pulled out splinters or cleaned a cut. Keme pulled quick and hard with his left hand and stumbled backward when the spear came free.
Matchitehew's whine turned to a roar and he staggered several paces away.
"Come on we have to leave before the rest of the village comes back here."
Matchitehew limped forward farther down the game trail on three legs and Keme followed after cradling his right arm.
They had wandered for over an hour and even though Keme could hear wailing in the distance he didn't think the villagers were following them. Finally Keme couldn't go any farther with his throbbing shoulder and when he had shifted his clothing had been destroyed. He was cold and tired and he was afraid the pain in his shoulder just might kill him. Kneeling down near a huge fallen tree Keme hoped that the Great Spirit would grant him passage to the hunting lands soon. Matchitehew curled his bulk around his little brother and tried to keep him warm even though curling up like that made his hip feel like it was on fire.
A few hours later Wisakachek found the brothers. "What have you done?!" Ulric paced back and forth. How could his plan have gone so wrong? Send the boys to the village so they could tell everyone what happened. Done. The boys could bring him people to turn into werewolves and then he would be the leader of a wolf pack. But instead the idiots had killed another boy and now the whole village wanted them dead. "I can't believe that you broke the second rule. No Killing!" He paused to look at them but neither seemed to be paying much attention to him. Reaching down he grabbed the one that was still human shaped by his right arm and hauled him to his feet. The boy screamed and dropped back to the ground. When Keme landed on his belly Ulric could see the large hole in the back of Keme's right shoulder. "Idiot! Change shape to heal the hole."
"I don't know how." Keme sobbed.
Matchitehew stepped over his brother and growled at Ulric.
"You. Change." Ulric pointed at Matchitehew and used his dominance to force Matchitehew's change. "And you." He kicked at Keme but forced power in his direction as well causing the boy to start his shift as well.
As soon as Matchitehew regained his human shape he rushed at Ulric with a screech. His attack might have been more effective if he'd been able to put weight on his left leg. Stumbling and flailing he was no more than an inconvenience to Ulric who batted him to the side. Ulric grabbed Matchitehew and holding him by the upper arms he forced the boy to arch backward until his head us almost upside down. Making sure that Matchitehew's face was toward the moon. Ulric began to chant.
"Með moonlit þú munu vargr. Með dagr þú munu munu maðr. Á nátt þú munu hafneir minð á dagr þú munu hafneir fit. þú munu khange réttr sem moonrinn"
Matchitehew's body began to spasm and Ulric dropped him to the ground. Pulling out a small pouch Ulric tipped a powder into his hand and blew it over Matchitehew. He turned to Keme who was just finishing a slow and painful shift.
Keme had seen what was happening to his brother but seemed to be trapped in this slow and painful change and he couldn't do anything about it. When Wisakachek dropped his brother to the ground Keme was afraid that Matchitehew was dead. As Wisakachek pulled out his medicine bag Keme felt it as he regained control of himself. After the powder had been blown over his brother's body and Wisakachek turned toward him, Keme was afraid that he would be killed next. Keme lunged and felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh of Wisakachek's neck. When he felt no more movement, he dropped the body to the ground. Keme stared in horror at his mangled victim and his dead brother. Keme ran and kept running.
AN: Truthfully I know nothing about Norse magic/traditions/curses etc. If the translator page on the internet was correct the curse that Ulric uses should say: By moonlight you will become wolf. By day you will be man. At night you will have no mind at day you will have no fight. In stages you will change just as the moon.