Prologue
"Do you know our story, mo fhaolá?"
Her old voice was like a song as she combed wrinkled fingers through red curls. The child shook her head, eyes glinting with curiosity.
"No? Would you like me to tell you?"
the old woman asked, chuckling when the child nodded vehemently.
"Long ago, before men, there were wolves. And long after men came, there were wolves. With the gods' ancient magic pulsing through their veins, they were the offerings of the moon and Earth. All Fenlish and Gealian children alike are taught this story from birth."
The child shuffled closer in the woman's lap as her voice dropped lower.
"When man grew more powerful - more greedy and insatiable- the great beasts grew weaker. The wolves were being hunted and skinned for their coats."
The child gasped, squeezing her eyes shut in fear.
"Don't be afraid, keep listening. This was a grave insult that angered an ancient goddess, The Morrígan. The Morrìgan gathered the men's wives, offering them a proposal. She said she will gift them her power of shapeshifting and the spirits of wolves, waning and waxing themselves into wolves like the moon. She said that as long they devote their lives to protecting the Foraoise Dorcha - the Dark Forest - of Fenel, and bear their daughters to do the same, they will always keep the spirit of the wolves."
"The women who agreed took on new names. No longer quite human, but not fully wolf. They are Faoladh."
"The holy men grew angry with their wives, referring to them as witches, or dream wanderers. For in their sleep, neath the moon, is when they transformed. They were witches, and how the men wished to burn them so."
"They spent centuries in the great Dark Forest of Fenel. It was the largest forest, brimming with magic, and for a long time that is how it stayed. It belonged to nature. It belonged to the wolves, and the Faoladh. But of course, the human men wanted more land, more wood. They wanted magic gone. To them, there was only one God. Magic was the work of the devil, long luring their women and little girls into sin. Fenel was colonized by god-fearing Gealish, split into two countries. The bigger half coming under new reign with a new name, New Gealia. The new King cast his greedy eyes upon tbe wood Foraoise Dorcha to fuel his expanding empire, but the wolves defended their home passionately. Thus began the war between the humans and the old magic of their country."
The old woman finished, the last of red tangles falling from her hands.
"Does this story have a happy ending, nana?"
The child blinked up at the woman, hope swirling in young eyes.
"I do not know, a stór. The story is still being written."
The child frowned, crossing her arms.
"Can I make up my own ending?"
she asked.
The old woman smiled softly, sharp teeth catching the moonlight.
"Yes, Sorcha. You can."
