Aurora Wolf

The Ice Childe
by Mark Wolf

Her father Dir’gath stood with the clan’s leaders frowning and pointing toward the snow-covered forest. The leaders had decided to cast Myrna forth from the village, due to her physical differences and because the starvation the village endured was clearly her fault in their minds.

The village starved, true enough, but it was none of Myrna’s doing. To have her own father stand with the others was more than she could bear. Myrna chewed nervously on her lower lip.
“If the childe is sent away, then I go, also,” said Grams. Myrna turned in horror as Grams walked toward the group on her snowshoes. Everyone knew Grams nursed a terrible chill.
This would be the end of her. Grams was the best of the two Wise Women in their village.
Dir’gath held out a hand to restrain his mother, his considerable bulk overshadowing the diminutive aged woman, the clan’s true dreamer and healer.
“No, mother. Stay!”
Grams shot him an icy stare, fixing him with the same silver eyes that she shared with Myrna. Dir’gath stepped back.
Grams carried a caribou pack. No one would begrudge her taking a few hide blankets and the small hides needed for a small shelter.
Myrna hoped she had taken embers from the fire, also. Fire provided them with the ability to cook and would keep them from freezing.
Myrna’s concern  caused her to protest. “No, Grams. You must stay!” She loved Grams more than life itself.
“Hush, childe. Now the clan has two less mouths to feed. Let’s be off.” Grams turned and waddled away, stepping slowly with her snowshoes. Myrna followed her, dejected.
Myrna could see the collective guilt in the eyes and faces of those she passed. The clan would not miss her, her silver eyes and white hair being considered an omen of doom to the clan, but Grams was loved by all. She would be sorely missed.
Myrna trudged, despondent, on her own snowshoes. She’d never really belonged to the clan. They merely tolerated her on account of Grams. All Myrna ever wanted was to belong to her people, and they rejected her.
Myrna had been accused of being a by-blow of the Demon Ice-King, Sleknord. Even her father Dir’gath had sworn that Myrna was not his, defaming Myrna’s dead mother. All thought that Sleknord was punishing the clan with a harsh winter for keeping his child from him.
Therefore, the clan had banished Myrna, sending her away into the brutal winter to her Demon father. “Let him take care of her,” they said.
A few of the village’s women pressed small gifts of sinew into Gram’s hands as they passed. The sinew would be useful for a multitude of purposes. It would be made into snares, bind up snowshoes, mend clothing. Grams nodded her thanks and shoved them into her pack.
Myrna turned before passing completely from the village’s outskirts, shooing some mangy dogs that approached her begging for food. Dir’gath stood and watched her, not even offering a wave. Myrna turned her back on him and followed Grams.
***
Grams coughed and attempted to hide the flecks of blood in her hand, wiping them on her furs as she

stirred the ptarmigan feet broth in the small blackened caribou hide inside of the small shelter.
Myrna wasn’t fooled. Grams had Sleknord’s Curse, always a fatal illness. Grams would have left the clan anyway, had Myrna not been banished. In Gram’s view of clan-life it was the right thing to do, preventing her illness from being contracted by others.
“Here, childe. Eat.” Grams handed her the spoon. Myrna shook her head. Grams needed the hot soup, even more than her, if she were to survive the chill of the coming night.
Grams pressed the spoon into her hand, refusing Myrna’s reluctance. She smiled at Myrna. “This is right, childe. You know I will pass over, soon. I have true-dreamed of you becoming the clan’s salvation. You must survive if you are to do this.”
“How am I to help the clan, Grams? They hate me. All I have ever wanted was to be a part of them. They won’t even allow that.”
“I have true-dreamed that they will someday treasure you as they have me, childe. I do not see all things and know not how this will come to pass, but it surely will. But you must will yourself to survive. Now eat.”
Tears came to her eyes as Myrna cupped the spoon in her hand. Myrna tried to smile back as she sipped the hot broth. Grams watched her until she had finished all but a couple of spoonfuls, then she held out her hand for the spoon.
“I will pass easier if I sleep on a warm stomach.”

Myrna handed the spoon over, watching Grams savor the last of the broth.

“Thank you childe. Now let’s get under the covers and sleep. I will pass over this very night. I hope to you leave you with enough body heat for you to survive until morning.
Myrna crawled in with Grams, the two of them hugging each other close. Myrna softly cried, trying not to disturb Gram’s rest. Grams hugged her tighter.
“There, there, childe. Why do you cry? Have I not shown you how to snare the winter hare? To drop a ptarmigan with a thrown stick? To build shelter, make and tend fire, work hides?”
Myrna nodded her head. How could she say that she was going to miss the presence of the only

person on Erdthe who had protected her.  Wanted her. Grams nodded as if she understood Myrna’s thoughts.
“It is the way of things, Myrna. The old and infirm pass over to make room for the young. Sometimes, the young pass over too, if they are weak.”
“You are not weak, childe. In this, at least I have done all I could to assure your survival, knowing from the true-dreaming that this day was coming and is now here. Someday, you will be treasured. I have true-dreamed of a strong, young man loving you and you having several children.”
“Now sleep. When you wake, I will have passed. You must salvage everything but my furs, they will carry the sickness. Then you shall leave me in the open for the wolves and ravens to feed. Perhaps their feeding on me will leave you one more hare or partridge for yourself to eat.”
Grams breathed softly as she fell asleep. Myrna held her close as she, too, fell asleep. Sometime in the night, Grams passed over.
***
The next morning Myrna cried as she gathered up the sleeping furs and shelter and placed them in the small pack. She tied Gram’s snowshoes to her pack then leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, stroking her silver hair.
Already, she could smell death wafting from Grams small frame. Soon, wolves or their winged larger brothers, the Wolfen, would be drawn in.
Myna strapped on her snowshoes and started walking away. After a few paces she turned and watched as the first ravens descended on Grams. She couldn’t bear to watch them. She turned her back on Grams and trudged away into the cruelly beautiful chilly morning.
The sun had passed its zenith and started downward when Myrna heard the sound of the wolfen, their howls and cries echoed across the sky, along with the thunderous flapping of wings.
Myrna hid herself behind a wurser berry bush and watched the skies. A large herd of caribou flew overhead, their own brayings nearly lost in the roar of so many wings beating the air.                     

The wolfen hounded the elderly stragglers and young of the herd, trying to wing-tear one. Two of the wolfen dropped on the back of a caribou.
Myrna shivered in fear as she watched the caribou tumbling helplessly through the sky, its wings shredded by the sharp fangs of the winged wolfen that pursued it to the erdthe. The wolfen harried it almost to the ground, snapping and tearing at the partially opened wings, assuring themselves that their quarry was totally incapacitated.
The caribou hit the earth with a heavy thud a short distance away from where Myrna had secreted herself. The pack descended upon it and fought amongst themselves for the rich bloody meat. She hoped they would be too occupied to notice one small girl slipping away.
Myrna stood and carefully backed away from behind the wurser berry bush. She placed her feet quietly.
She glanced under her arm to the ground, stepping gingerly over dried branches, then forward to see if any of the wolfen observed her slow movement.
One snapped its head up having caught her movement. She froze and held her breath. Even her frost

laden breath could be her undoing.
The wolfen watched her closely. Wolfen eyes were very sharp and their sense of smell even more so. Myrna broke out in a sweat, her forehead dripping salty beads into her eyes. She blinked.
That was enough. The wolfen paced forward, a look of intense curiosity on its face. Myrna knew her only hope was to keep from panicking. If she ran, it would chase her. She held herself perfectly still.
The wolfen stopped and unfurled its wings to gnaw at fleas on a mid-joint in its left wing, seemingly distracted. Myrna knew that it was a trick. If she turned the wolfen would be on her in a flash.
The wolfen good naturedly dropped its ruse and refurled its wings and paced up to within a few feet of Myrna and sat down, cocking its head as if in wonder at this small bit of food that didn’t run from it.
Myrna let her breath out slowly and then took another breath. The frost was obvious but that was no longer the issue.
The issue was the beautiful deadly animal that quietly regarded her. A female, if her powers of observation were correct. It appeared to have swollen dugs. There should be cubs nearby. Some of the other wolfen noticed their mate regarding Myra and paced towards them.
Tears came unbidden to Myrna’s eyes. First the banishment from the clan, Grams passing away in her sleep in the night and now this. To be eaten by wolfen.
It was too much for her. She fell to the ground in a half-swoon, part of her noting that the wolfen had started fighting again before she passed out.
***
Myrna woke much warmer than when she spent the night huddled against Gram’s chilling body. Too warm in fact, and dark, and considerable weight was pressed against her body. Was it night again? She pushed at the weight with her gloved mitts. It lifted with a startled whine. She smelled the musty rankness of the wolfen’s den. Believing she was to be fed to its cubs. She passed out again.
When she woke the second time she could here the whimpers of a wolfen. At first, she thought it was one of the cubs.
She backed up against the wall of the den.
After a time her eyes adjusted so she could see the lone wolfen that lay in the moonlight streaming in through the entry tunnel. It was the female. Where then, were her cubs?
She hadn’t appeared pregnant. Something must have happened to them, then.
Myrna knew from her life within her village that in severe winter, when game was scarce the wolfen would sometimes reabsorb their cubs within their bodies or even eat them themselves. The sledge dogs within her village did the same thing. That must be it. But why had the wolfen brought Myrna here? To eat her, herself?
The wolfen crawled on its belly toward her and then rolled over to expose its dugs and belly to her. Myrna could smell the warm milk oozing from the dugs. She means for me to suckle?
Myrna hadn’t eaten anything but last night’s broth for a few days and the sweet odor of the milk tore down her last reservations. She laid her head softly on the wolfen’s stomach and suckled.
The wolfen panted and placed a paw across Myrna’s back. So that was what the fighting was about. It was protecting me.
The milk, almost hot, poured into her mouth and she felt a sense of contentment and belonging she had never knew existed.
If the village saw her now they would believe that their fears were realized. The wolfen were believed to be Sleknord’s flying sledge pullers.
Her mother had died bearing Myrna. Spurned for her white-haired and silver-eyes, her father had disavowed her, leaving her for Grams to raise. And Grams had; taking the milk from the sledge beasts for her.
When Myrna reached her thirteenth year, her naming year the clan cast her from their midst, calling her Sleknord’s Spawn.
Sleknord, Demon Ice-King of the ice covered lands, ever at enmity with Shenarra the Summer Goddess.
The dug Myrna suckled quit producing. She changed to another. Her stomach slowly filled with the rich, warm milk.
The wolfen panted happily. Myrna reached up a gloved mitt to stroke the wolfen’s side. It was a massive beast, far larger than the land bound wolves. This one was the size of a woolly unicorn. Myrna wondered if it would allow her to ride it. It must have picked Myrna up in its mouth when the wolfen flew her here.
“Thank you, great she-wolfen for saving my life. I do not know how I would have made it another day without your help.” The wolfen raised her head, listening to her.
Myrna’s shrunken stomach filled fast from the milk. She gazed at the reflected moonlight streaming down into the entry tunnel of the den.
The light from the twin moons Delthnor and Drenia revealed to Myrna the realization that somewhere in the flight from where the wolfen had captured her to here; she no longer had any of the shelter or sleeping furs, nor her or Gram’s snowshoes or pack.
She dropped her hands and felt in her parka pouch for the obsidian knife. She traced the hard sheath of the caribou hide and breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything was replaceable if she had the knife and could skin some caribou carcasses. There would still be the matter of making fire again, but she had the knowledge of making a fire by bow and tinder.
Myrna stood up slowly, so as not to startle the wolfen. It regarded her in curiosity. The ceiling of the den stretched a few feet taller than her height. She suddenly felt like she needed to void.
“There, now. I think if you had cubs in here you would clean up after their messes, but if I am going to stay here I don’t want my den smelling like my pee. I need to go outside.”
Myrna moved slowly towards the den entry. The wolfen stood, exhibiting curiosity rather than threat. Myrna went up the entry tunnel and outside with the wolfen following her.
The night sky shone brightly from the twin moons. It was almost as bright as the daytime winter sun.
The den entrance opened up from under a rock overhang. It wouldn’t be visible from the air unless it were recognized for the rock formation itself.
It was well protected from the wolfen’s natural enemies; the winged ursals and wyverines, and humans that would attempt to dig cubs from their dens to destroy and eat them.
Down slope from the den, scattered patches of mixed conifers grew in groves interspersed with deciduous shrubbery. A small brook gurgled, promising fresh cold clean water to drink and cook with.
Myrna took a few steps. The snow was frozen and wind scoured, supporting her weight well. She chose a small conifer grove away from the stream to make her toilet.
After she cleaned herself with snow the wolfen walked forward from where she had been watching her and sniffed.
“Hey!” Myrna moved forward in anger before she caught herself. He had to remember this thing wasn’t one of the village dogs.
It was pretty obvious when she noted that they could stare eye to eye when both were standing, in fact, Myrna had to look up a little bit. Myrna slowed her pace and her tone. “I’m sorry. You were just trying to keep the place clean. We don’t need the smell to draw in an ursal or wyverine.”
She moved closer to the wolfen and held out her hand. “Friends?” The wolfen sniffed at her hand momentarily then turned her head towards the sky, clearly hearing something with her sensitive ears that Myrna could not.
“What is it?” Myrna pulled back her hood and pulled her long white hair to the center of the back of her neck, exposing her ears.
Now, she could hear it too. It was the sound of the pack, rising to hunt on the cold winds of the evening, howling and yapping to one another.
The wolfen started to pace, looked to the skies then back at Myrna, obviously wanting to join in the hunt but torn with the desire to stay and protect Myrna.

“Go ahead and go. I will stay close to the den and run back inside if any danger comes. Go on.” Myrnamade shooing motions at the wolfen, which upset it even more and made it more nervous.

It walked over to Myrna and mouthed the back of her parka, attempting to pick Myrna up and take herwith her. Myrna pulled her hood back up to protect her head.

“Nuh-uh. That’s fine if I’m passed out. But if I have to go with you, I want to ride.” Myrna turned andgrasped hold of the long furry mane around the wolfen’s head.

She reached as high as she could and put her weight on it. The wolfen understood what she was trying for and flopped to her belly in the snow.
Myrna climbed aboard her and sat ahead of the wings and grasped the mane again. She wrapped her legs around the wolfen’s neck. The wolfen stood back up and extended her wings.
She flapped them experimentally for a few seconds, warming them up and testing the new balance, partially lifting them off the ground. Then she sat down and lifted her head to the sky and gave a long bone chilling howl to the sky.
Howls and yips answered it. Silhouetted in the two moons, the pack approached. Myrna tried to make herself very small on the wolfen’s back as the pack landed and walked up to her benefactor.
The pack varied in size and color. Many of them wagged their tails and showed their bellies to her wolfen. A huge dark brute of a wolfen, the darkest black one in the pack walked up and sat down close to her wolfen and regarded Myrna clinging to the mane.
Myrna guessed that he was her mate. The dark wolfen carefully extended his snout towards Myrna as her wolfen showed her teeth. He paused before touching his nose to Myrna, inhaling deeply, cataloging her scent.
He drew back, perhaps understanding the boundary that his mate imposed. In time, she might allow him to examine her more closely. He seemed to accept things as they were and dropped his forelegs to the ground with his rump and tail lifted high, as if inviting his mate to play.
That signal elicited an excited yip from her wolfen. She started running and flapping her wings. The pack followed her and the black mate as they took to the skies.
***
The pack passed over a river. Myrna closed the drawstring on her hood down to a tight snorkel and pressed her face into the warm mane.
Below her she could see the bonfires of two villages relatively near one another. She wondered if it were hers, the Caribou Clan and the Wolf Clan her village’s closest neighbors and friends. She could see figures moving near one of the large bonfires in the center of the village. They must have heard the pack.
They would be hustling the women and children into the sod houses and the men and boys would be grabbing spears and bows and quivers.
The wolfen had never attacked her village en mass in her lifetime, though there were stories of long ago in extremely harsh winters when they had done just that. They quickly passed over the village and Myrna turned her mind to her surrounding friends.

Thinking to name her wolfen, the dark one reminded her of the black trader from the south lands that visited last summer. He had a mischievous eye, his name Donda. She would call the black wolfen Donda.

For her new foster mother, so protective and kindly she thought of Gram. For a moment, tears threatened to spill, and then Myrna bit her lower lip.  I can’t call her Grams. She isn’t old enough. Grams was known as Sharra as a young woman after her naming day. She shall be Sharra.
“Sharra! Do you like that name?” Myrna hugged Sharra’s head. Sharra yipped in excitement, feeling Myrna’s energy, enjoying the affection and attention.
The scattered forest below them broke into a tundra covered opening. A large herd of winged caribou started as the pack passed overhead howling and yipping in excitement.
Most of the herd ran for the cover of the forest canopy but there were too many to squeeze under the trees and several small groups took to the air and scattered in all directions.
Sharra turned toward one of the larger groups and barked a command. The pack closed and turned with her toward the group, then took up a chorus of howls as they tucked their wings and dove in on the ascending caribou. Myrna closed her eyes as Sharra dropped onto the back of one of the lead bulls sporting a tremendous antler rack.
There was a tremendous thud of impact and a spray of blood flew into Myrna’s face as Sharra savaged the bull’s left wing. The huge bull shook his antlers at them causing Sharra to pull up as Donda hit the bull from the other side.
It was enough. Donda’s impact shattered the bull’s other wing at mid rib and the huge bull bellowed in pain and plummeted to the ground. Another cow was sent to follow the bull from the far side of the ascending herd. The wolfen followed their prey to the ground.
***
Myrna expected a repeat of the fighting she’d witnessed the day before, but this time the pack behaved much more civilized. They must have been insanely hungry yesterday, guessing they too had a long stretch without food.
Sharra and Donda dropped to land beside the bull. A few of the pack landed nearby but none challenged their claim for first portions. Myrna wondered where she might fit into their hierarchy. She decided to get down from Sharra and give her room and watch and make it easier for her to eat.
Sharra stepped towards Myrna and mouthed her mitten, pulling her forward. Donda turned towards the rest of the pack, showing his teeth.
They meant for her to eat first. Sharra reinforced her will by pushing Myrna toward the kill. “Okay, I get it. Thanks.”
Myrna pulled her obsidian knife from her parka pouch and cut into the caribou’s belly. A hunk of raw liver will do me good. Grams said it’s just the thing for women.
She opened up the belly, exposing the liver which slid out of the body cavity. She cut a hunk off and stepped back, then started chewing it as Sharra and Donda watched her.
Satisfying themselves that their cub was taken care of the two wolfen moved forward and ripped at the liver themselves. Then they opened the cavity further and ate of the heart and other organs before allowing the rest of the pack to join them.
***
A few weeks later, Myrna had managed to teach Sharra to chase the caribou herds closer to her village. After she had flown over the two villages a few times, she’d identified the southern most as hers.
The pack had dropped a few caribou stragglers near it. Myrna waved from the back of Sharra at the gaping hunters as they departed.
***
Myrna stood next to Sharra as Dir’gath and several hunters approached her from where they landed near the camp next to a caribou carcass Sharra had dropped.
Sharra growled as they drew within bow range.

“I wouldn’t come any closer, father. I do not control this wolfen and cannot speak for what she might do if she feels you the Dir’gath held up a hand, halting the hunters. One made as if to raise his bow with notched arrow in caution.
Dir’gath reached over and slapped it down. He turned back to Myrna. He regarded her for a few moments, expressions of wonder and puzzlement and pride on his face.
“Are you truly then Sleknord’s child and not my own, Myrna?”
“I’ve never met Sleknord, father. This wolfen has befriended me. She and her pack have in turn hunted for the village. How has the village fared?”
“Since winged caribou have been dropping from the skies the last few weeks, we are no longer in danger of starvation. I’ve been sent to offer the village’s apologies for banishing you and to offer you the right to return and dwell among us. To be one of us, Myrna.”
Myrna stood stunned. Here it was, the very thing she’d longed for all of her life.
A part of her wanted to rush forward and hug her father, yet he’d tendered nothing of himself towards her and she was unsure how Sharra might react, especially if she sensed a hostile vibe from him towards her. She watched her fathers face closely as she spoke.
“And what of you father? What are your thoughts and feelings on this?”
Dir’gath had tears in his eyes as he spoke. “Myrna. I know I’ve never opened my heart to you as my daughter. When your mother was lost to me bearing you, I hardened my heart towards you. Your white hair and silver eyes made you strange to me also, yet now as I look at you, after these weeks have passed, I see not only a daughter of mine own but also a good bit of your Grams in you. I have wronged you, Myrna and ask you to forgive me.”
Dir’gath’s lower lip trembled. It was all Myrna could do to keep from running to him. Yet, this was the closest Sharra had ever been to other humans beside herself. She couldn’t risk it.
“Father, I accept your apology and that of the villages. I would run to you and hug you but know what Sharra would do.”
“Sharra?”
“I named this wolfen after Grams. Can you see the resemblance?”
Dir’gath regarded the beautiful Wolfen.
“Yes, daughter. I do. Will you come back to us?” Dir’gath looked at Myrna hopefully.
Myrna felt a sense of resolution within her as she spoke.
“Father. I will, in time. I need time to get Sharra used to other people and I need to dwell with my wolfen pack, too. I will visit again in a few days time. In the meanwhile fare well father.”
Myrna turned and waved then motioned a hand sign to Sharra, who bent low for Myrna to mount.
Dir’gath raised his hand in farewell. “And you, my daughter, Myrna. You fare well also.” He raised his hand in benediction as Sharra took to the skies.
Myrna looked back over her shoulder to see the hunters waving. She could see the old people, mothers and children waving from near the village’s sod houses also. It felt good to belong.

The End