Chapter 5: Chapter Five

With a few hours to go until Decarth’s crop workers returned, I spent a few minutes getting a feel for myself, my magic. Simply calling it “energy” didn’t do the arcane matter justice. It’s my will, my instincts, my divinity, and my grasp upon the world unseen. That’s my magic. 

My divine mark glowed with an ambient silver, lighting up the world around me. Having it as part of me once more felt like putting on warm clothes fresh out of the dryer. 

Back in the orphanage, one of my peers was a kid named Stuart who was always on laundry duty. 

The building layout was odd, and our washer and dryer were in the same room as the showers. He’d always put his clothes in the dryer right before showering so they’d be warm when he got out and toweled off. 

I never got it in my head to try that, but he always looked happy enough. When you live that life, you have to take victories where you can find them. 

Right now Decarth needed a victory, so when I finished reacquainting myself with the divine mark and magic, I put my mind to honoring the other half of Pyra’s bargain. 

Red pulled me aside and put my hood back over my head. 

“Well. . . I can’t say I would have taken this path, but who am I to argue with a goddess?” she giggled, running her fingers down my arm and tracing the outline. It sent shivers through my shoulders and spine. “That was a joke. If I need to, I will argue with a certain goddess.” 

I smiled and showed her my palms. 

“Sorry. . . I guess I got carried away,” I said. 

“Do you trust the bard?” my wife asked, leaning against a signpost. 

Shrugging, I said, “I believe her story. I trust her sincerity in wanting to help the village. Is that enough for us to undertake this?”

Moving her face a few inches closer to mine, the huntsman flashed an analytical eye. It was one she’d carefully developed over the 200+ years of her life. My spell had slowed her aging, but she was still very capable of dying. It wasn’t like she could throw caution to the wind. 

“I’m not sure what memories you’ve regained, but as you are goddess of the hunt, Tamylla is the goddess of tricks. I’ve no doubt Pyra is her daughter, and that gives me cause to be at least a little suspicious.” 

Scratching my chin, I thought back to Pyra’s story, the sound of her heart, the pleading in her eyes as she asked for protection and salvation for Decarth. 

“Maybe being the daughter of someone known for deceit is all the more reason to desire someone’s trust,” I said. 

Red ran her thumb across my cheek. More shivers. 

“Okay, fine. We’ll give her the benefit of the doubt for now,” my wife said. “But have you thought about how to help this village? You aren’t exactly the goddess of farming, you know?”

Shaking my head, I murmured a wordless thought or two before turning to look at the trees where a damaged heathar crop sat, waiting for an entire population to discover its ruined state. Red was right, of course. There wasn’t anything I could do about the crop, but as I thought more about it, I frowned. The town viewed this crop as its solution, but the more I considered this problem, I found farming to be more of a flaw for the town. 

Or rather, the fault lay in these people placing all their trust and hope in their heathar.

I can’t fix a crop, but I think I know what to do about their food problem, I thought.  

“I have an idea. . . a couple actually,” I said, before calling over to Pyra. “You disguised yourself to hide among the villagers as you perform. Can you also disguise me in their eyes?”

The bard nodded. 

“Good, then take me to Daphne. I think Decarth’s solution is on the tip of my tongue.” 

Pyra smiled revealing all of her canines and pulled out her new instrument, lining up her claws along the strings of the lute. 

The bard closed her eyes and started to hum a little tune before adding more of her voice, kicking off into a song about covering one’s heart so eyes didn’t quite see it. My skin started to itch as she wove together strands of an illusion over my being. And while I couldn’t see the effects, Red’s eyes widened. 

What I did see were small clumps of mist rising from the soil around me and merging into a foggy blanket Pyra’s magic draped over me. 

Now the bard sang of masks and secrets, finishing her tale a verse about hiding in plain sight. The bard looked a little paler as she secured the lute behind her. 

“Two illusion spells in one day. You sure know how to drain a demigod of her magic,” Pyra said wiping her forehead. 

“Sorry. I’m just not ready for anyone outside our little pack to know Ruka the Wolf Goddess has returned,” I said. 

Red and Pyra had opposite reactions to my using the word “pack” to describe our trio. Pyra appeared relieved and maybe sneakily joyous, while Red wore a dry expression that seemed to say, “Really? With her?”

I didn’t give it much more thought as Pyra led us to Daphe’s home. She was outside working in her garden and appeared to be counting plants and taking stock of whatever fruits or vegetables her small plot would yield. 

Clearing my throat, I spoke softly, “You won’t have enough there to feed the village for a day, let alone the winter.” 

Daphne looked up with a startled expression to find her houseguest and two strangers. The village leader appeared to be in her 50s and wore a matching brown dress to Pyra’s. Now I knew where she got the garment from. 

Her graying brown hair was cut short and had a little poof to it. The leader’s skin was brown, and she didn’t look like she missed a day working outside like everyone else in the village. Her knees were stained with dirt, and I smelled fresh soil coming from her worn, cracked hands. These were the hands of someone who hadn’t known much luxury in their life, going day-by-day working hard with only a few holidays celebrated here and there, likely festival harvest parties. 

I like her, I thought. She doesn’t seem like someone who lives lavishly barking commands at the villagers. I bet she’s always been right there among them. 

“Oh! Pyra! I didn’t know where you ran off to,” Daphne said, wiping her hands on the sides of her dress. “Hello, I’m not familiar with you two. Are you visiting from away?”

Red smiled and bowed her head. 

“My name is Jenny Red,” she said. 

“Oh, the huntsman! What brings you to our village? Are you looking for a new home for you and your mother?” Daphne asked. 

It took everything I had not to scowl. Mother? How fucking old did Pyra make me appear? I mean. . . I was centuries old, but I wasn’t supposed to look it. 

My wife patted my shoulder and said, “Actually, this is Deartha, a wise woman from Hilja. Pyra sent word about Decarth’s crop failure and asked for help. So I escorted her here.” 

Trying not to roll my eyes, I understood the bit at once. If I couldn’t appear as Ruka the Wolf Goddess, I’d have to play the part of the wise old woman from a nearby village. 

Daphne’s round cheeks wrinkled with worry at the thought of Daphne spreading secrets to other villages. I could tell the leader was worried about word getting out of Decarth’s tainted crops. It might ruin trade relationships with others nearby doing years' worth of damage. 

“Worry not,” I said, hoping Pyra’s illusion gave me the voice of an old wise woman. “Nobody else knows of your situation. Though I do have a solution if you’re willing to listen.” 

As she looked around, I watched the village leader making sure nobody else was close enough to hear us speak. 

“I’d be honored to receive your counsel. Shall we go inside? I can fetch you a chair, elder, for I know journeying all the way from Hilja must have been a great feat for you,” she said, motioning inside. 

Deciding right then and there I could be a crabby bitch, I narrowed my eyes. 

“My legs are fine. Do you want my help or not?” I asked. 

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your strength,” Daphne said. 

Red gave me a look I couldn’t read, and Pyra was doing everything she could not to slap her face. 

Looking out at a space between the treeline and where Decarth’s buildings began, I pointed. 

“You need to tell your workers to drop what they’re doing starting tomorrow and to construct a fenced-in pen for starters. Make sure the fence is plenty tall and point the gate toward the forest,” I said. 

Daphne gave me a questioning look and slowly nodded. 

“Make sure the pen is finished by sunset, and I’ll have the solution to your problems ready by then,” I said. 

“What exactly will go inside this pen?” the village leader asked. 

“You’ll see when the time comes. Just promise me you’ll have the thing finished by sunset. With the gate open and pointed toward the woods. That’s very important. If it’s not ready, I can’t help you,” I said. 

With another slow nod, I watched as Daphne looked over the space. She carried the same expression as when she was working in the garden before we showed up. I could tell she was running numbers, thinking about resources, how much lumber this pen would require, and how many workers they’d need. To finish it that quickly, I figured it’d take the whole village. Maybe she knew otherwise. 

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Sighing, I popped my shoulders. 

“We’ll start on the pen at first light,” Daphne said. 

Now it was my turn to nod. Red and Pyra remained silent while I continued to explain pieces of my plan. 

“Oh, and make sure you have some large empty pots you can spare. Put them in the pen. Fill half with water and the other half with any vegetables or nuts your village can spare,” I said. 

Bowing her head, Daphne assured me this, too, would be done. 

We left with her promises and returned to the trees to make up camp. Pyra and Red were eager to hear my plan, but I think the ceremony of rebinding my divine mark left me exhausted. I just wanted to eat something and go to bed. I’d need my strength for the call I was planning in the morning. 

Red decided to forage for some wild mushrooms, and Pyra surprised both of us by returning to camp with a few hares she’d hunted. My contribution was to make the fire, which I found difficult without many camping memories. It took me until both Pyra and Red returned, which made me feel awesome. 

I offered to try my hand at fixing a stew, but thankfully my wife was kind enough to see the folly of that plan and had me instead skin the hares with Pyra. 

The skinning was difficult for a minute or two until my memories of prior hunts kicked in. After all, I was the goddess of the hunt, and skinning was what most people did to their food after the hunt was over. After that, Pyra and I managed the task efficiently. 

We rinsed the blood off our hands in a nearby creek and returned to camp right as Red added the meat to the stew. 

By the time it was finished, the sun had long retreated from the sky, we made quick work of Red’s cooking. As we rested our bellies, Pyra plucked a gentle tune and sang a song of new friends on the road. Leaning back against a stump, I sighed and watched embers float lazily above our campfire. 

This is what Red and I had before my death. And the growing Ruka part of my brain was more than happy to have it back. The huntsman curled up next to me as Pyra continued to play her song. I kissed the top of her head, and she wrapped her arms around me until our camp decided to call it a night. 

Red loaned Pyra an extra blanket, for which the demigod was grateful. And then the three of us slept like rocks. Well, I slept like a rock. I can’t vouch for how the other two slept because I was dead to the world. Merging with a mark of divinity took it out of me. 

I awoke just before sunrise and stretched. With Red and Pyra still asleep, I quietly left camp and hiked further into the woods. After about half an hour of hiking, I kneeled to the ground and started to stir my magic. With a good night’s rest, it pulsed within me, ready to be put to work. 

There’s nothing I can do about those crops, I thought. But hopefully, my friends can help find some replacement food. 

Placing my right hand on my divine mark, I felt it pulse once more, magic at the ready. Taking several deep breaths (and yawning), I pulled the energy into my throat. My intention was for my call to reach far and wide, as had happened days ago during my resurrection. 

With my eyes closed, I did what felt natural, throwing back my head and howling to a rising sun dotting the sky with hues of pink and orange. My magic raced through the air, enhancing the sound and calling for friends, miles in every direction. 

“Come to me,” my howl cried. “Your goddess summons you.” 

Howls rose above the trees and echoed across nearby villages, including Decarth. The chorus continued as more wolves added their own response to the call. 

“We hear you and obey, oh goddess.” 

Fifteen minutes later I had a gathering of large gray wolves before me, stocky, fuzzy beasts that could run all day after prey if need be. Fifty pairs of amber eyes stared at me, tails wagging, tongues panting as they filled the woods with barks and playful growls. 

And something in my heart leaked at the sight of these wild canines, all eager at the return of their goddess. I wheezed to keep from crying out then gave in and fell to my knees, covering my face. 

“I’m so sorry I left you,” I sobbed as the wolves crowded closer. “I didn’t mean for you to be scattered and alone. Please, can you forgive me?” 

The wolves didn’t hesitate, several bounding forth and all sniffing for my face. A few growled and snapped at others as they tried to get closer, and I spent the next hour talking to the wild canines, getting to know this generation of wolves who’d responded to my call. 

I learned their scents, their hurts, their joys, and I let my magic flow over each and every one of them, marking the animals as my own, and honoring their loyalty to my call. My heart was full, for each wolf that heard my cry came according to their own instincts in response to Ruka the Wolf Goddess. . . me. 

Only after taking another hour to name each wolf did I ask them for a favor. I explained my desire and tasked them with working as a large group to accomplish a feat that would be impossible with the precision of pack tactics. 

After sending off the wolves, I stood, realizing I was covered in slobber and bits of their hair. But I didn’t mind. I giggled. 

I called, and they came, I thought. 

At this point, I smelled my wife nearby and turned to see her come into view. 

“So that’s what the pen was for. Why didn’t I think of that?” Red asked, brushing clumps of hair off my shoulders. 

“Because you aren’t a wolf,” I said, grinning. 

The huntsman scoffed. 

“I married one. That has to make me an honorary wolf,” she said. 

Turning to walk back toward camp, I threw my arms up in the air. 

“I’ll think about honorary wolf membership. It’s something a wise goddess like myself needs time to meditate on. We don’t just go handing out wolf status willy-nilly,” 

My wife thought that was an appropriate time to lightly yank my tail, causing me to turn and lightly growl. 

“Easy girl. You may think you’re all big and bad now that you’ve got your magic back, but I could still put you on the forest floor without warning,” she said. 

My heart sped up and face flushed when I considered that not only could she do this, but I wanted her to. . . badly. 

We froze there until Red snorted and grabbed my hand, leading me back to camp. 

Passing through Decarth, I got a good look at the pen everyone was hard at work on, driving posts into the ground. Before noon they’d already gathered what lumber they needed and were hard at work on the outline. I was impressed. Daphne had whipped them into working shape. 

She was eager to see my promise fulfilled but was patiently willing to wait until sunset. In the meanwhile, probably because of how we smelled, the village leader let us bathe in her quarters, for which I was grateful. 

We ate her food and learned of Decarth’s history. She was a splendid host as the day wore on until she took her spot helping to fence in the pen. Red and Pyra helped as well. When I tried to assist, I was shooed away and made to sit with other older women of the village who weren’t cut out for physical labor anymore. The bard’s fucking disguise worked too well. I was almost annoyed when she remade it at camp this morning. 

By sunset, the last of the hammering was complete, and before me stood a large pen, probably 100 feet apart at its widest points. 

Everyone was sweaty, hands were covered in splinters, and tools lay scattered here and there. But folks were eager to see what would fill their new pen. 

Daphne gave me a look of worry as the sun continued to set, and whispers picked up around the workers. But I held up my hand as, right on cue, the smell of wolves filled the air. And not just wolves, but the animals I’d sent them out to hunt.

With the gate wide open, everyone jumped at the crying howls of a wolf pack, 50 members strong. And being herded by the pack, a large group of red deer. Everyone jumped back from the pen as my wolves did exactly what I’d asked. 

They made sure the herd of deer ran straight out of the forest and through the newly-constructed gate. Only after they’d entered the pen did the wolves peel off and re-enter the forest. This continued for several minutes, the sound of thundering hooves filling the air around Decarth until, at last, the pen was full of them. 

Daphne only had a moment to stare in wonder before she motioned for a couple of men to close the gate. They latched it and started to count immediately. 

Red and Pyra stared in wonder with the rest of the village as dozens of red shaggy deer explored their new pen. Some were skittish, but others had already found the large pots of acorns and water. Just under half of the animals were bucks with the rest made up of does and fawns. My wolves had been thorough, and as the villagers continued to stare at the animals, I wandered over to Daphne. 

“This is what I offer you. Keep these animals. Consume and sell their milk, breed them, and slaughter a few selectively as you need for meat and furs. As you add more to your numbers, build another pen. But before that, construct a shelter for your initial herd before the first snow falls,” I said. 

Daphne nodded with a wide smile on her face. 

“Give up on this year’s heathar crop. Focus on the deer as livestock. And for the love of Ruka, start sending hunters into the woods again. Fish the lake, hunt, and use these deer responsibly. You can’t put all of the village’s hopes into farming. As you’ve seen, things can go quickly go wrong.” 

The village leader bowed her head and thanked me several times. Then she thanked Pyra for fetching me from Hilja. 

“I’m so grateful you brought this ancient woman and her wisdom to our village. Finding you and nursing you back to health ended up bringing a real blessing to Decarth. Thank you, bard,” Daphne said, as I vowed never to disguise myself as an old woman again. 

We turned down payment from Daphne and dodged any questions about how we got the wolves to herd the deer in this direction, eventually leaving the village behind us. 

Taking the main road out of Decarth, Red assured me we’d arrive at the first piece of my heart within the week if we kept a good pace. Pyra was happy to tag along and pulled out her lute, singing a song I knew she made up on the spot about wayward travelers, dancing wolves, and deer as red as the setting sun. 

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