This was going to be my nanowrimo last year, but I never got around to doing it. I just found my outline for it recently and decided this is what I would try. Ignore the other things that say related topics because those are my past stories. The original name to this piece was Lethero's Tale, but that didn't sound catchy enough so I changed it to a title that I'm quite fond of: Lycanthropy. I will mark the newer ones with a astrik. Enjoy.
A pained scream tore through the silent night in the town of Zeinta. Slowly, the scream died away, leaving the village silent once more. A second scream tore broke the quiet minutes later. Gradually that too died away to leave the town peacefully quiet once more.
Geedo held up two bundles of rough deer hide blankets in his arms. In the dim light from the single candle of a small shack, barely visible under the covers two crying male cubs squirmed underneath. Nicarga laid her head against the rough pillow, panting heavily. With an enormous effort she lifted her heavy head off the pillow. Her gaze fell upon the cubs Geedo held in his dark arms.
“Do you wish to hold them, Nicarga?” Geedo asked. She simply nodded her head and adjusted her bodies in preparation to hold the precious bundles.
Geedo handed her the first cub, his skin a deep auburn and eyes as blue as the midday sky. “Scado,” Nicarga whispered as she held the baby close in her arm. Carefully Geedo helped settle the second cub in the crook of her other arm. Nicarga gasped in shock as she looked at the baby. His eyes were red, his skin pale, and what little hair on his head was white as the snow in winter. “He’s just like Colaster: the eyes, the skin, everything.”
“Then it means he most likely inherited The Curse,” Geedo said solemnly. “We should–”
“No! I will not kill my son!” Nicarga replied angrily. “You know the chances of a Wolf inheriting The Curse are unlikely.”
“I do, but if he is like Colaster, as you said, he will have most likely inherited The Curse.” Crossing his arms Geedo stared intently at the little child before him, hoping he could find, with certainty, that this baby did not have The Curse. “We will only know when he’s older . . . ” He turned away and stared out the window, trying to give himself a reason to not look at the cub. “So, what shall you name him?”
“Lethero,” Nicarga said silently.
“The first Wolf that got The Curse?” Geedo blurted out.
“Is there a problem with it, Geedo?”
“No, but why that name?”
“Maybe he will redeem the name. Maybe he will be the one to rid the Wolves of The Curse. Maybe...” Nicarga settled down on her bed, Lethero and Scado both silently asleep in her arms. She too fell asleep as the sun peaked over the horizon.
Geedo continued to silently stare out the misted window, pondering if it was the right decision to let Lethero live. Turning around he stared intently at Nicarga and her cubs. Lethero slept deeply, his skin glowing in the light of the rising sun, giving him a paler appearance. “Terra, preserve us,” Geedo whispered when he saw the sun reflect off the white fur that had spread across Lethero’s body. “Terra, preserve us all.” Turning, he left the room before he could change his mind, praying he made the right choice.
but a little illusive all the same.
