The Little Wolf

Book One in the Tribus Trilogy

To all the stars in my life.
You know who you are.
You show me the way in the darkest of nights,
and don't even leave in the daytime.
I love you all, my shimmering moon-dust.
You will always be the lights of my life.

This is for you.

This is the tale of Lupa, a strange girl with a dark history, who is send on a mission by Aqua - the goddess of water, equality and balance. She is the pure symbol of power, but she wants more...
Can Lupa stop this unstoppable force and defeat her before it's too late?


3. Lupa Comes


It was strange, I guess, to be here. My parents had told me everything they knew about this Earth. Every single person here was known to me. I knew how they looked from my parents' words. My parents, who had grown up here. I had no doubt in my mind that my parents' words were right, but that meant that this world was wrong! I knew that wasn't possible but I still somehow believed it. The lampposts, trapping tiny spheres of light inside them. The golden leaves littering the ground,  the crunch they made under my feet. And the wind. It blew the hair out of my face and carried the bitter-sweet scent of fern trees in it's breath.

I walked. And walked and walked and walked. I had no clue where I was going but I didn't care. If everyone and now everything that you knew and loved was gone, wouldn't you stop caring too? I followed the road, knowing that every step might be leading me to or further away from the human I was supposed to be searching for. I found myself, step after tired step at a camping site. About 60 different caravans were dotted around a large, otherwise empty field, and suddenly it dawned on me. I was alone in a strange world without any money or anywhere to stay. Perhaps I could borrow one of these unused vans.

I broke open one of the abandoned vans and climbed inside. There was a small bed and a cramped kitchen both together in a room the size of a garden shed. I climbed back outside and built a fire with a few branches, loose twigs and dried leaves that I found around a cluster of trees and started the flame going with my flint and steel. I cooked some meat I found in my Selshie purse on a make-shift spit while the fire gurgled and choked on the slightly damp twigs. Somehow, keeping stuff in an impossible bag keeps it fresh. Who knew? Once it was past edible, I gnawed on the burned remains of my meal. I tried making another piece but my mind was distracted. I lay in front of the fire, spreading my wings out to dry and loose some weight of the water Aqua had drenched me with at the time of her arrival.

A small mew from my bag made me turn suddenly enough to crick my neck. 'Poc'! I had left my long-eared scatter-claws in my purse. Selshie purses looked like normal draw-string bags apart from the fact that they can fit almost anything inside. I had left Poc, without even realising. Poc is an an unusual name, short for Pocket, but that is where she just about lives. Poc can change size at will, apart from when she is unconscious, like when she is sleeping. When she is, she's about the size of a human fox. I would need to try cooking again, if just to feed my friend. 

Eventually, I fell asleep outside, lulled there by the low crackling of the dying fire. Tomorrow, tomorrow I would begin my search.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...