Raised By Wolves

Chapter 1: The Night Of Flames

Werewolves has been feared and hated for a long time. They are the symbol of destruction and desolation, an implacable malicious predator, killing more than it can manage to eat. They have been hunted and killed mercilessly. And killing them became a tradition to humans. The humans view werewolves as vicious predators. Predators that should be killed and removed from the world. So the king of Ferastos declared hunt to wipe out all bloodlines.

Decades of hunt, a war between humans and wolves just like what the great legend says. Hope becomes fear. And fear turns to vengeance. And a great battle between human and non-human will happen soon. Pack was formed to save bloodlines. Some are being sacrificed. Some just hide and kill humans on sight, the way humans do to them.

But not this time.

The village of Eldoria, with its cobbled streets and thatched-roof huts, lay nestled in the heart of an ancient forest. The villagers lived simple lives, their days marked by the rising and setting of the sun, their nights by the flickering glow of hearth fires. But this night was different. The tranquility was shattered by a calamity that would be etched in the annals of their history.

It was a night like no other, when the crisp winter air carried more than just the scent of pine and snow. A monstrous fire had erupted, consuming everything in its path. The serene village was now a hellish landscape, flames licking at the sky, casting eerie shadows that danced on the ancient trees surrounding the village. Smoke billowed, thick and choking, turning the night into an impenetrable haze. The screams of the villagers pierced the night, a cacophony of terror and agony.

Dead bodies lay scattered across the village, charred and lifeless, a grim testament to the m******e that had unfolded. The once peaceful village was now a place of death and despair. Amidst the chaos, a baby's cry rose above the din, a tiny, desperate wail emanating from one of the smoldering huts.

In the depths of the forest, a lone she-wolf named Agatha prowled through the underbrush. Her fur was a silvery gray, blending seamlessly with the moonlit snow. Agatha had ventured out to hunt, her senses attuned to the movements of potential prey. She was a seasoned hunter, guided by instinct and the rules of her pack. Yet, tonight, something felt different. The air was thick with an ominous presence, a sense of foreboding that set her nerves on edge.

As Agatha moved silently through the forest, her ears pricked at the sound of a crying baby. It was a sound she had not heard in weeks, not since the death of her own cub. The memory of her lost child flooded back, a pang of sorrow gripping her heart. She hesitated, torn between her duty to her pack and the maternal instinct that surged within her.

Unable to ignore the cry, Agatha turned towards the village. She moved swiftly, her paws barely making a sound on the forest floor.

"Turn back." she heard a voice from her head. She knew what she was about to do was against the law. But she can't help it.

As she neared the edge of the village, the scene that unfolded before her eyes was one of horror. Flames roared, consuming everything in their path. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, lifeless and burned. The stench of smoke and death was overwhelming.

Despite the chaos, Agatha's keen senses honed in on the source of the baby's cry. She weaved her way through the burning huts, avoiding the flames with nimble grace. Finally, she reached a small hut on the outskirts of the village. The roof had collapsed, but amidst the wreckage, she saw the tiny form of a baby, swaddled in a blanket. Beside the infant lay the bodies of its parents, their arms outstretched in a final, futile attempt to protect their child.

"Oh, poor one." She said in her mind.

Agatha's heart clenched at the sight. The baby's cries tugged at her, stirring a fierce, protective instinct. Without hesitation, she gently grasped the blanket in her teeth and lifted the baby from the rubble. The infant's cries quieted slightly, as if sensing the presence of a guardian.

With the baby securely in her jaws, Agatha turned and raced back towards the forest. She moved swiftly, her powerful legs propelling her through the snow. The flames and screams of the village grew distant as she made her way to the hidden den she called home.

Nestled within the embrace of a rugged cave lies a quaint stone house, its walls weathered by time yet sturdy, offering refuge amidst the craggy embrace of the rock. Step inside, and you'll find yourself transported to a paradise hidden from the outside world. Towering trees envelop the dwelling, their verdant canopy obscuring the sky above, casting the interior into a perpetual twilight.

Though the sky may be elusive, a vast hole in the cave's ceiling allows glimpses of the moon's ethereal glow to filter through, bathing the space in a soft, lunar radiance. Beside the house, a babbling creek meanders gracefully, its waters seamlessly blending into the cave walls, as if nature itself carved its path through the stone.

Even in the darkest of nights, the enchanting glow of fireflies dances through the air, illuminating the space with their gentle luminescence. Joining their dance are the jade lights of lightning bugs, casting an otherworldly shimmer upon the walls of the cave. In this sanctuary, time seems to stand still, and the natural wonders of the world converge to create a haven of serenity and beauty.

The baby giggled, when a firefly landed on her nose, a few more approached the child. She tried to catch the glowing creatures. Who seems to be wondering why a human child is with her?

As she entered the den, Agatha's mate, a robust human-like wolf named Fenris, looked up in surprise. His amber eyes widened as he saw the bundle in Agatha's mouth. He rose to his feet , his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

"Agatha, what have you done?" Fenris asked, his voice a low growl.

Agatha gently placed the bundle on a bed of soft moss and nuzzled the infant with her nose. Agatha's form began to shift and contort, her sleek fur receding, her figure radiant and ethereal, with cascading silver hair that shimmered like moonbeams and piercing green eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. She stood before him, naked, she took a blanket to cover her nakedness. Then hold the bundle again.

"Shh.." In her arms, a bundle wrapped in a soft blanket, a sight that left her husband speechless and trembling with a mixture of wonder and fear. For nestled within the folds of the fabric lay a human baby, its tiny form a stark contrast to the wildness of the forest that surrounded them.

"I couldn't leave her," she said, her voice trembling. "I couldn't let her die."

Fenris approached cautiously, sniffing the baby. "You know the rules, Agatha. We are not to interfere with the humans. The alpha will not be pleased."

"I don't care," Agatha snapped, her eyes blazing with defiance. "This child is innocent. She needs us."

Fenris sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at the baby. "What will we do? We can't keep her hidden forever. The pack will find out."

Agatha looked down at the baby, who had fallen asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. "We will tell the alpha, It's also impossible for him not to know," she said firmly. "But first, we must make sure she is safe and warm. She has been through enough tonight."

Fenris nodded reluctantly. "Very well," he walk towards his wife. "But we must be careful. The pack will not understand. They will see this as a violation of our laws."

Agatha nuzzled the baby once more, feeling a surge of protectiveness. "We will find a way. For now, let her rest."

As the night wore on, Agatha and Fenris took turns watching over the baby, whom they decided to name Lucia, after the first light of dawn. Agatha's heart ached with the memory of her lost cub, but as she looked at Lucia, she felt a new sense of purpose. She had made a vow to protect this child, and she would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

Morning came, bringing with it the cold light of a new day. The flames in the village had died down, leaving behind smoldering ruins and a thick layer of ash. The once vibrant community was now a ghostly landscape of destruction. They know what happened to the village will reach the pack. They keep avoiding that village for ages, and now it's in ashes. But Agatha knew they could not delay any longer. They had to tell the alpha about Lucia.

With Lucia swaddled in a blanket and nestled against Agatha's side, the she-wolf and Fenris made their way to the heart of the forest, where the alpha's den lay hidden among the ancient trees. As dawn's light filtered through the mouth of the cave, revealing a hidden paradise within, the werewolf sanctuary came to life. Unlike their stone house, this den offered a glimpse of the sky above, a vast expanse of azure stretching overhead like a canvas painted by the gods. At the heart of this sanctuary lay a crystalline lagoon, its waters shimmering with the brilliance of aquamarine gemstones, believed by the werewolves to impart health and agility to their young.

On this typical morning, the wolf pack gathered around the lagoon, their forms shifting between human and beast as they tended to their cubs. Laughter and playful growls filled the air as the young ones splashed and frolicked in the pristine waters, under the watchful eyes of their elders.

Perched atop the rocky cliffs overlooking the lagoon, the alpha Ragnar's dwelling blended seamlessly into the natural surroundings. From this vantage point, he surveyed his domain, his keen eyes scanning for any signs of danger or intrusion. It was here that he could see the entirety of the lagoon, as well as the only entrance and exit to the cave, a strategic position from which to guard his pack.

As Ragnar observed the morning rituals of his pack, his attention was drawn to the sight of Agatha and Fenris approaching, accompanied by an unexpected presence. Even before they reached him, he sensed the anomaly, a disturbance in the familiar rhythm of the pack. And he was not alone in this perception, for the tension rippled through the gathered werewolves like a palpable wave of unease.

As Agatha and Fenris drew closer, their expressions betraying a mix of shock and uncertainty, Ragnar's gaze fell upon the tiny figure cradled in their arms. A human infant, vulnerable and innocent, yet bearing the potential to disrupt the delicate balance of their world.

"What is this?" Ragnar's second hand asked, as he was about to stop the two. Ragnar raised his hand, letting them approach him more.

The alpha,. His fur was a deep, rich brown, and his eyes gleamed with intelligence and authority. He regarded Agatha and Fenris with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"Agatha, Fenris," Ragnar greeted them, his voice calm but commanding. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Agatha stepped forward, her heart pounding. "We have something to show you, Alpha."