Wednesday, 21 December 2016

Happy Winter Solstice

Wishing everyone a sparkling and blessed Winter solstice.
From She Wolf Night bloggers Rayne and Belladonna.

Friday, 4 November 2016

Shadow-Bright: The blood princess

Part I:
Princess Bronwyn, tall and beautiful, with green eyes and golden hair. Her skin was a shade of olive and her lips honey coloured. "She is Summer" queen Penelope, her mother, would often say to her husband King Lear. "Our daughter is like the sun. She's warm and sweet."
The queen was heard saying this when Bronwyn was growing up in the castle.
"Ah yes, but our son is deformed!" King Lear replied in sadness.
The king and queen had a young son, a small boy with disfigurements. The king was sorry for him but the queen pretended that he didn't exist. She had him cared for by a nurse, and kept well away from her in the other end of the castle so that she could never see him again. What pride she felt for her daughter was pain she felt about her son.
"What son? I have no son?" She said bitterly.
"Olwen is our son. You forget, because you can't bare to look at him!"
The queen always left the arguement by walking away.
She turned round, as she did time and time again, to make another stab at king Lear.
"You taunt me with that creature of ours! But your other daughter is evil!"
"Because you made her so. She's a child!"
"She's sixteen!"
The other daughter was hidden in a tower. She was King Lear's eldest daughter with his first wife.
"Snow-White is innocent. You are so cruel and jealous of her."
Soon, Bronwyn heard news that Snow-White was dead. She knew that it was her mother's doing. Her mother, Penelope, hated Snow-White.
Bronwyn was fourteen then, and she was learning how to use a bow and arrow while riding on horseback. She was good at archery and skilled at athletics. All the traits that King Lear and queen Penelope wanted in a son, Bronwyn had. It was a shame that her poor brother, Olwyn, couldn't walk to go out with her. Penelope hated Olwyn more than she hated Snow-White. Yet she loved Bronwyn.
Snow-White was a very different princess to Bronwyn. She was Winter, with skin that sparkled like snow and frost. Her hair was like black ravens and her lips blood red. She resembled a lovely corpse.
Bronwyn and Snow-White were playmates as children. As teenagers, they grew apart. Snow-White enjoyed playing in the garden, amongst flowers and animals. She was always charitable and helping villagers. Bronwyn sought adventures, climbing trees, rowing, riding horses, hunting and training with swords. Then news of Snow-White being dead.
"Snow-White was killed in the forest!" everyone said in the castle. There was no investigation. No one brought to trial. Her mother seemed happy! She had a jewellry box containing Snow-White's heart. Bronwyn opened it, and found it was most vile.
"That?" Bronwyn said in her mother's earshot. "It's a stag's heart! I should know. I've killed many! That isn't a human's heart!"
Bronwyn relished telling her mother that. Her mother was vain, jealous but also stupid. The look of grave disappointed on Penelope's face was almost funny. Penelope screamed when she looked closely at the heart. She was angry and demanded guards sieze the hunter and execute him for betrayal.
Bronwyn was glad her big half sister was still alive.
When Bronwyn turned sixteen, she discovered that her mother Penelope was dead. And her long lost sister Snow-White was just married to Prince Ragnar. She heard that her mother tried to poison Snow-White but all failed. She learnt of Snow-White living in a ruined temple in the forest with seven goblins for the past two years.
Bronwyn was ready to look for the goblins and do some supernatural hunting...

Part II:
One morning she rode her beloved horse Amber, a graceful yellow Haflinger mare that was a birthday gift from King Lear. Whenever she trained in the fields with bow and arrow, or went hunting, she rode one of the stable horses but kept her beautiful Amber in the garden. Amber stayed in her very own stable in an enclosed garden near Bronwyn's chambers.
She rode Amber on trips to the forest with her friends (the guards who were keen to train with her). Today, she was leaving the castle for good. King Lear remained in the castle, now a widower, with his staff, and her brother who was never allowed out.
She journed South, towards the mountains. It was there that Snow-White lived with goblins and entered a fake death.
She didn't play with magical tools as her mother used to do. Bronwyn tracked down the dwelling of the goblins by late afternoon. It was a ruined mess, with broken scattered fallen pillars. The foundation was still there, the roof not fully caved in. The place was inhabited by someone else, for each window had drapes made from dyed animal skins. It stank.
Amber was frightened.
"Cool down, Amber, please."
She dismounted from the horse, and then Amber bolted and ran away into the forest. Bronwyn cried and knew that her dear beloved horse would be forever lost to her.
Her distress turned into anger. She entered the ruined temple and found nothing but seven statues of ugly creatures that were neither human or animal. She missed her chance to talk to them. These goblins were caught in the daylight that filtered into the temple through gaps blown in. She was so upset that she kicked each statue and made them crack.
Without her horse, Bronwyn was vulnerable and decided to put on her hard boots. These were inside her travel pack, along with her green velvet cloak, golden dagger, some provisions to eat, keys and pair of laced trousers. Bronwyn had to travel on foot all the way to Snow-White's new home.
She was not invited to the wedding. 
Bronwyn remembered the story of how her mother died.
She needed answers, and to find out if this was true....

 ((Tales of Shadow-Bright are fictiona stories written by Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Tuesday, 25 October 2016

Introducing "Tales of Bright Shadow"

Apologies for the delay in updating and posting on my blog. I've been distracted by other duties and activities, all part of daily life. On with this new project, my fictional world. To begin with, there is a certain town and it's one of many other hidden places not visible on any satellite. It won't be found anywhere on the conventional maps. The one place that I'm focusing on is a hidden town called Bright Shadow.  What will follow in my blog will be a series of "Tales of Bright Shadow" stories written by me, created by myself. It's an extension of the "Fenrir's Daughters" but shall include different creatures, places and fictional reports of the paranormal.
Will keep you informed...  

Monday, 3 October 2016

Ancient dogs of Britain and Ireland

The native British Isles wolf species died out long ago. Wolves were once thriving in Britain and Ireland through ancient times, the Roman occcupation, Middle Ages and until the Rennaisance. Some wolves were still reported in the 19th Century in Scotland. According to fossil records, the native British and Irish wolves were as big as arctic wolves (the largest wolf species alive today). Humans since the Tudors and King James 1 drove wolves to extinction in a few centuries, wiping them out. Some bounties for wolf hunts were still open since the INdustrial Revolution.
But have they all really died out?
It is reported (only among paranormal research, cryptid sightings and alternative papers) that wolves may still exist in hiding. There are well know strange wolf and "werewolf" sightings in the 20th Century and now. Some people living near woods and hills have had unsettling wolf encounters, or photographed wolflike creatures. Others have listened to eerie howling coming from the open countryside where no one lives. Livestock have been found dead, and it's often considered that loose pet dogs were responsible, or even foxes (even though there were signs that a larger predator had been responsible).
It's possible that there were mysterious big cats killing livestock and horses. They, too, are a phenomena of large wild cats roaming the landscape, seen by many, and then vanish into thin air.
Is it likely that the native wolf of Britain and Ireland only exists in small isolated packs? What about the idea that the ancient wolf might have bred with dogs, producing a wolfdog mixture that entered the genepool of domestic dogs? 
Some of the oldest dog breeds in the United Kingdom and Eire are the whippet, talbot (now extinct), otterhound, Old English sheepdog, English white terrier (now extinct), King Charles Spaniel, Norfolk spaniel (now extinct), Old English bulldog (now extinct), English water spaniel, English springer spaniel, English mastiff, curly coated retriever, bulldog, border collie, bloodhound, beagle, Irish wolfhound and greyhound. I wonder if some of the dogs we have today are descendants of those extinct wolves that roamed Britain and Ireland?

Saturday, 1 October 2016

Black Moon

The end of September 2016 finishes with a black moon. It's a rare type of moon called "black moon" that means a second New Moon in the same calendar month. A new moon is a darkened moon in the sky before the next phase. It's a moon that basically you can't see. The next Black Moon should happen next year in October 2017. 

Saturday, 24 September 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Veronica de Poison

Hello, my name is Veronica and I'm going to tell you what happened a long time ago. It was under a full moon when I cast a magic spell on thousands. That is, I created the secret club of werewolf ladies. It was spun in the garden next to a pond, with a silver cobweb, silver bowl containing my own blood from my finger, and a pouch of dried leaves. I couldn't do this as a wolf, as I am a wolf. I had to become a human for this task. I did this on behalf of my ancestral father, the misunderstood Fenrir himself.
My family have a library in the tower. It is always cosy and warm in there and since childhood I've often gone in there to read books. There are many countless books on all of the shelves, most of which I haven't touched. I came across a few books on my family tree, on my family estate, land, then books on alchemy and witchcraft.
My parents didn't really want me in there but as I became adolescent, they believed it would help stimulate my education if I studied in the library. In a way it's true but I wanted to research the magic arts, and to play with the idea that I could be a sorceress.
I would not describe myself as this. I'm a gentlewoman by nature, with one hereditary form of magic that comes with no will or control: shapeshifting by the power of the full moon. I've been changing into a wolf since the age of twelve. My parents, my brother and cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents all have this. But my mother wanted me to find out a way to control this and stay in human form during the full moon. She was able to do this, because she understood how to make a strong brew with raw ingrediants. She wouldn't pass this knowledge onto me.
She said:
"Veronica, listen. I taught myself the art of controlling the inner wolf. You can teach yourself how to tame the coming of your inner wolf."
"How am I supposed to do that if you won't share your brew with me?" I asked.
"By spending time in the library reading, studying and listening."
I spent years reading the witch books and nothing helped.
So one day, I gave up the idea and let the full moon change me to a wolf each time.
Then I was becoming more fascinated by researching my ancestry. I located some royal families from legendary Ville d'Ys and Gevaudan. My ancestor of Gevaudan was the evil wolf beast who terrorised people. He met a sticky end but then, in the 18th Century, his grandson was rumoured to be another such wolf beast. When my ancestors became such monsters of Gervaudan, they resembled very large wolves with black fur and red eyes.
Fortunately, my relatives and I don't appear very large as that. We're the size of alsation dogs, and have been mistaken for those. Our eyes appear green and our fur is golden as a harvest moon. As wolves, we don't want to scare people. I refuse to even hunt animals like the poor rabbits that live in the parks. When I'm wolf, I like to run, sing, experience the wind, forest, trees, water and sky.
But when I was doing this research, I found myself looking at the references books and opened big posters and scrolls leading back to thousands of years. Then I found my ultimate ancestor:
In this shock, I confided in my sweet mother, who said:
"Yes, you're a descendant of Fenrir the wolf god from your father's lineage."
My father was often a very strict man, he was far from being a monster or a beast. As a wolf, he commanded respect and we all followed him into the woods. He kept us in check. He was the alpha in the pack. Not just the family pack, mind you. The extended pack for werewolves in the town, villages and outskirts. In France, there are more packs but we don't interefere with them.
In my quest to understand how to control my inner wolf, I ended up studyong my family tree. Then I learned about all of the werewolf packs in France and other countries. I decided to read about these packs who seem adorable. Each pack has its own crest, but there are those in some countries that do not. They are either new or disbanded. But the older packs are symbolised.
My father is alpha werewolf of the Tourmaline Night pack. This pack is about three hundred years old and with a resting black silhouette wolf, encircled with white evening primrose flowers.
He was evasive about Fenrir when I spoke of it to him. Father was very strong and used to serve in the army when he was young. There is a glass wardrobe in his smoking room that displays his blue and white uniform. Now he is a businessman and industrialist, but our chalet is in the countryside, away from the factories, trains, automobiles and city.
I couldn't resist wanting to form my own pack, that wasn't a pack. I decided to call it Fenrir's Daughters, because it consisted of myself and female relations at the beginning. Afterall my ancestor was the powerful wolf god. I wanted to expand the club, and include women and girl werewolves from the Tourmaline Night pack as well. That is so we can exchange ideas, cooking tips, wisdom and stories, and to help eachother. Some of the women of my father's pack were escaping domestic violence and I wanted my club to be a place they can also seek help. With my club, I was able to assist women and children of werewolf families in poverty.
I and my family wanted to expand Fenrir's Daughters membership to other packs, and wider France, then outside. Now it is worldwide and I feel proud of being a forum where female werewolves can come and chat with us.
From this, I was able to meet women werewolves from all over the world and listen to them. I discovered how to control the shapeshifting just simply by making friends with these wonderful wolf women. My brother and father were so impressed by the sheer energy and power I invest in the club that I permitted a secondary club for the men. It's called "Fenrir's Sons" and my brother is in charge of that one.

 ((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Friday, 16 September 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Pearl Chono (Part 3: Pearl Sword)

The moon glared through the clouds, as sword slashed at armour. By midnight, the moon has vanished behind thick clouds of ash and smoke but there was a lingering stench of blood.
Cold white charred remains of the wooden huts like powder dried her sword. All around were the bodies of dead warriors. She was only defending herself.
Pearl climbed the steep hill, to find the sword that belonged to her mother. It had broke in an earlier battle. Now she used her own, made by a former lover who made weapons. It was just for her, and out of love, he welded an innocent gemstone from the Tenggis Sea into the hilt.
Everything she owned was broken except for the sweet loving pearl sword. Pearl buried her mother's sword quickly under the soil. Her mother was named Song. The pearl sword was often worn at her bloodied leather belt.
A warrior woman of the forest, trained by masters of the broadsword in the hills, Pearl was the survivor of plague infested towns and villages that she'd lived in for all her thirtyone years. As a teenager, her adoptive family, all her friends and neighbours were killed by plague. Plague rodents poisoned the streams and crops. There were no remaining villagers or townspeople left. She journeyed South and came to Lake Bajkal where she encountered the warriors and swordsmen, who helped her. They later perished of the plague and she was unable to stay there amongst all of the dead. She chose to flee Southwards, in journey of the mysterious "prince" where she felt destined to meet. As a childm she encountered a goddess who told her to do this. She made sure that she never starved to death by consuming whatever she could, and as a wolf during the full moon, this is what she did. Driven by hunger, she struck down lone travellers, animal or human.
Men attacked her, even when she was in her wolf form and was always the winner. As a woman she slay them with her pearl sword. The men left wounds in her body that was deeper than flesh, and she felt dazed for months. Despite that she lived.
Pearl found a burned village, where soldiers had plundered earlier. The people of the village were all dead, some had died of plague. She remembered when men assaulted her before, and felt an intense pain. This was a terrible memory of her giving birth to a stillborn infant, a boy, who was never meant to be in this dark bloody world.
Named after the beautiful stone inside a sea shell that her mother Song found. Swords captured her imagination ever since childhood, when they were happier times with her mother.
Pearl grew into a hardened swordswoman with the training of martial artists. She developed her own intuition of Wolf Seeing without any other human knowing about this. She could see in the dark. She could hear for miles. She could identify someone's emotions without them saying anything. She could smell when illness and plague had started to infect another. She remembered when, as a child, she made her own bow and arrows, and showed this to her mother.
One day, Pearl entered a library in a semi deralict town, and learned about shamanism, the Blue Wolf, gods and spirits of the earth. It was here in this godforsaken place that she found a man in fine golden clothes. He was handsome, young, strong, but dying.
His blood covered sword lay on the floor next to him.
"Woman! Don't stay here!!!" he cried, but he grimaced in agony.
She went to him with a small cup of water.
"Who are you, sir?" she asked.
"I'm a Mongolian prince," he said. "I was attacked in the street by a rabid wolf."
"Rabies and plague are killing everything I love!" Pearl cried. Her mother, adopted family, friends, lover and now her prince. 
 "If I don't make it promise me that you'll take my sword?" he asked.
Pearl was sad and wept.
The prince died there and Pearl couldn't take his sword. She left the sword next to him and covered both the prince and his sword with a blanket.
"You belong with the sword and can carry it with you into the next life," she said.
Wolves howled in the distance.
 "My name is Pearl, but I belong in the forest and the sky," she said, remembering the words of Asena the goddess. "I remember you prince, last night..." when she had been a wolf... then became a woman. Her mouth foamed again. The fever was coming.
She left the library and disappeared among sparks and floating ash from the funeral fires. Her journey was uncertain but she was only a survivor in a dark landscape.     

 ((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Thursday, 1 September 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Pearl Chono (Part 2: The first time)

The wind carried death through the streets. Pearl was in her seventeenth year by then, on the tragic night death struck the village. At first it looked like clouds of black smoke. Then these plumes had eyes, and looked like dancers dressed in black hooded cloaks. She watched them from a window and stared in horror.
The following morning, her foster carers, an elderly couple who had always looked after her since they found her alone in the forest as small ten year old, were struck by a severe illness. Their flesh erupted in red spots, and they couldn't move.She tried feeding them but they weren't hungry or thirsty.
They died. Pearl wasn't ill, and everyone else in the village were poorly. They all became sick in exactly the same way. It was a plague. A seventeen year old Pearl grieved, and she hadn't cried that much since her own mother died years earlier.
She couldn't stay, and gathered her things. She walked along a narrow path, moving South towards the misted hills. Pearl stopped when the moon came up. She was about to sleep under a willow tree, when something caught her breath. She fell to the grass and held her stomach as pain soared throughout her. Her vision turned red. In a long agonising hour, she wanted to forget pain, and escape the illness. It caught up with her and no one was here to help.
Pearl didn't remember much now, as her antibodies fought against the plague's starting effects. If it was the plague. She perspired and vomitted. Owls instantly left the trees nearby. Pearl screamed.
Then the pain was gone. Her red vision altered to soft blue and grey. She ran from the willow tree and it dawned on her that she was able to run on all fours. She had a tail now, and her body was covered in white silvery fur. She wanted to scream again, but her lungs were not the same. Instead, her voice sounded a sad howl like that made by dogs and wolves.
In return, distant howls followed. In panic, she ran into the woods and didn't want to see herself. That was the first time she became a wolf. The same thing happened to her mother, she remembered. Pearl was terrified that first shapeshift night, it didn't make sense.
Soon as dawn arrived, she fell asleep, and woke up in her human form. Pearl was scared, in the woods, minus her bag of belongings, and wearing just the tunic she wore the previous night. Lost, she followed the direction of the sun and came to a small path, leading out of the woods, and through a field of sugar canes. In the far distance ahead were domes of farm land, houses and herds of animals grazing.
Further away near the forests in the distance, peering up were gigantic heads!
Two heads with staring eyes. She was scared. Pearl ran towards the nearest tree, and hid there. She felt it was safe enough to look, and some cloud settled, covering the giant heads. It looked like they were carved into the mountains.
She ran closer to the farm village.
"It's empty!" she cried.
It was true. The houses smelled of death and blood. On each door were marks of X to show that the plague had been there and done its evil.
She couldn't stay here.
Jade moved towards the onimous forest with the giant stone heads in the distance on the high mountains. She was persued by a large wolf, a wild animals, and she had no option but to kill it with her sword. As she feared, it had rabies.
She walked on, thinking how the full moon would come tomorrow night and again she would shape shift....    to be continued....

 ((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Sunday, 24 July 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Pearl Chono (Part 1: Childhood)

The sun blazed through the forest as the sword went cutting across flesh. By evening the sun had gone down behind the trees, hidden but leaving a smouldering heat and stench of death.
A gentle stream washed the blood off her sword. Around her, seven slain wolves piled in a heap. She was only protecting her baby.
Song retreated into her small abode, to see to her newborn baby and gather some things.
"We're moving on, Pearl. The forest isn't safe. Predators will come now."
She put everything she had in two baskets. Song put her baby girl, named Pearl, in a vivid purple and silver embroidered sling carrier and strapped it on. The clean sword was at her glittering belt.
A warrior woman of the hills, trained by the masters of the broadsword in temples, Song was the only surviving member of her family. As a teenager, her older brothers were killed in a skirmish by the emperor's soldiers. The soldiers burned down the village and set fire to their rice field. The remaining villagers, including she and her parents all fled. They journeyed alongside a vast river until a plague struck most of them dead. Her parents died because of this terrible plague. She had no choice but to flee again in another direction, and this is when she almost starved to death in the forests.
Wolves attacked her, even when she tried to fend them off with her sword, yet she was able to kill them. Their bites left deep wounds in her body and she felt dazed for months. Despite this she lived.
Song staggered into a poor village and was looked after then the emperor's soldiers soon raided that. She was assaulted by soldiers and couldn't remember very much except pain, and she didn't want to remember anything. This terrible event caused her pregnancy and this was how Pearl came to be.
Named after the pretty magic stone inside a sea shell that Song discovered many years before as a child. It captured her imagination ever since, and she wanted to pass on those happier times to her daughter in a name that was a memory.
Pearl grew into a strong girl and she managed to instinctively know martial arts. She developed her own weapons without Song knowing this, and never teaching her that.
"Mum!" Pearl said at the age of nine. "Do you like the bow and arrow I made?"
Song was astonished when she saw that her own child crafted a beautiful wooden bow, cleverly hand-dyed in saffron, with delicate lethal tipped arrows.
"How... how...?" Song wanted to ask her how she did this but was too shocked that she couldn't get the words out.
Pearl was able to do somersaults, cartwheels, back flips, and aim extremely well at targets. She made spears throughout her childhood and taught herself how to do it all!
"Are my brothers' ghosts helping you Pearl?" Song asked over dinner of boiled cabbage and fish.
"No mum, I hear it said to me by wolves."
Song nearly dropped her spoon.
"What did you say?"
Pearl could tell she might've offended her mother.
"Sorry mum, I didn't mean to."
Song quizzed her daughter but Pearl shut down and refused to answer. She walked away from her mother.
They lived in an abandoned hut for years but soon it was time to move on. Song liked to gather food and grow vegetables and hunt in the streams. When she wasn't gathering, hunting and cooking, she was weaving grass baskets. And making clothes. She took Pearl through a market and bought fabrics, food and clothes. Song was skilled.
One day, Pearl wore her favourite clothes that her mother made. A bright colourful del tunic and little brightly embroidered boots. She loved to wear a little hat covered in small river stones that Song made for her. 
Then Song became very ill with a sickness, and there was nothing Pearl could do.
"Mum!!! Don't leave me!!!" Cried Pearl.
Song didn't want to leave her ten year old daughter in a forest infested with huge dangerous beasts.
"If I don't make it, promise me you'll carry my sword?" Song said sadly.
Pearl wept.
Song passed away in her sleep. It was time to move on from here but Pearl couldn't leave her mother, even though she was gone. Sh picked wild flowers and put them on her mother. She covered Song in leaves and twigs.
 "I'm sorry mum, I can't take your sword."
She placed the sword on her mother and folded Song's arms around the hilt.
"You belong with the sword and can carry it with you."   
She made a small fire and set her mother's flowery little pyre on fire. It burned softly in the moonlight. Wolves in the distance howled.

Wolves came, and they could smell death and they sensed the frail figure of a human child. Pearl looked at the wolves emerging from the bushes with their twinkling eyes.
"Your kind bit my mum," Pearl said through tears. "And she killed those wolves!"
The pack leader was angry. He was the largest of the group, the size of a big horse, with moon white fur and blazing solar eyes. A wolf of the sun and the moon. The others were mere shadows in the background.
Pearl backed up into bushes and fumbled in her pockets to find rocks she could throw at it. She would aim straight for it's eyes and then get a dagger and lunge it into the wolf monster's throat. The others would come after, but she knew the trees would offer some safety from them because wolves can't climb very well up trees.
"Asena?" Pearl said, locating a small rock in her coat pocket. "Who is that meant to be?"
The wolf beast laughed and it sounded awful, like the earth was cracking.
Peal threw the rock directly into the big wolf's left fire eye. He roared like the earth was breaking apart. The other wolves scarpered into the dark forest. Terrible as he was, he wasn't an ordinary wolf. This was a god. And he wanted to kill her.
She was so frightened that she ran to the nearest tree and climbed up as fast as she could.
Wolf laughed again and the trees were shaking.
"DO YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE ME UP IN THAT VEGETABLE?!" He boomed. The wolf lunged forwards and banged against the tree, and Pearl grabbed on as much as she could. She shut her eyes and prayed for her mother's spirit to come and help.
A blue light made her open her eyes. A beautiful lady with white hair and sky blue eyes drifted on a cloud and smiled sweetly at her. Pearl felt the most calm she ever felt.
"I'm Asena, don't be afraid. That demon can't hurt you," said the lady.
"Are you the goddess?" Pearl asked.
"Yes," Asena replied. "you've nothing to fear. Your stone sent it away."
"He's going to kill me."
"He's gone. He disappeared forever once your stone hit his left eye. He can't live without both of his eyes."
Pearl noticed that she was on the ground and there was no sign of the large wolf anywhere. At all.
The lady slowly melted into fog, and then reappeared, only this time she was a splendid looking wolf with a blue aura.
"I belong in the sky, and you're blessed with the power of the sky too, as your mother was strong, she survived well on her own. You shall find a safe home in the town if you walk South. There you shall meet a prince."
Asena disappared in a bundle of stars.
If it was true that Pearl was a descendant of a goddess such as Asena, then she could understand how she managed to learn sophisticated fighting and hunting tricks. She only taught herself, with the inner divine wisdom embedded in her genes from the sky wolf goddess. She went on the path that the divine Asena told her to follow. Her colourful, adventurous journey had only just begun.  

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Tuesday, 5 July 2016


Updates so far! At the moment I'm working on a large project about my fictional world of Fenrir's Daughters. I've been posting sometimes on my second blog "Storm Valkyrie". Here on "She Wolf Night" I will resume posting stories and may also return to creating non fiction essays on spirits, gods and myth again.

Wednesday, 15 June 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Helen Chartreuse

The sky was deep indigo rich with thunder, yet no rain fell. A hardened storm ready to burst.
Miles away flashes of light flickered.
"Oh no, it's going to be a really bad night," sobbed Tia, who held the baby's hand.
"We're safe under here," said Malcom, who wanted to reassure his terrified sister.
The baby wailed.
"She's hungry again and we've run out of milk!" Tia said.
"The bus won't be long and we'll get some more from the kitchen."
Then lightning tore across the sky above them. Followed by deafening thunder. It startled them all and the baby screamed. Tia lifted the baby from the pushchair and rocked her on her lap. Malcom stared anxiously towards the avenue where no lights were visible. They were shielded by a canopy over the bus shelter. The rain began in bucketloads and it sounded even like thunder itself.
Time passed.
"There isn't any bus coming now!" Tia shouted. "We're late!"
Malcom patted Tia's shoulder and said "It's coming soon."
Tia knew that it wasn't. Malcom said the exact same thing ages ago.
As the rain ceased, thunder melted away.
"The bus might've been delayed because of that storm," Malcom said.
The baby cried. Tia could not help but to give the baby a small droplets of water. It wasn't the same thing. Baby was very ill. With ma and pa gone, all they had was the orphanage now and big dreams of their distant rich uncle taking them in.
Yet it was worrying for them because their baby sister was constantly hungry now.
A woman appeared, and she was holding an umbrella and then closed it. The woman was dressed in a pretty black coat, white skirt with dark beads, Oxford wedged shoes and a feathered hat. She turned and faced the children and smiled.
"Hello," she said.
"We've been waiting for a bus for a very long time," Tia said, rocking the baby.
"I guess you must be hungry?" the woman was right.
She had amazing eyes, both Tia and Malcom thought as they looked at her. Her eyes were pale blue that glowed emerald as she turned. Eyes like a cat or a dog. The children were not frightened but in awe of her.
"My name is Helen," she told them. She opened her flower shaped purse then took out two small bars of chocolates. Then she removed a little carton of milk.
The children were astonished and grateful.
"Thank you ever so much, kind lady!" Malcom said.
Tia wiped her tears and thanked Helen.
"You can all eat now," Helen reminded them and she gently kissed the baby's forhead. "It's time for you children to go home."
"There's no home for us," Malcome told her.
"Our ma and pa were killed in the war," Tia sadly added.
"And we're waiting and waiting for our bus," Malcom reminded Helen.
Helen looked around and then she said, "there isn't going to be a bus now. I can take you home."
Tia looked at Malcom feeling puzzled.
"We can only trust her, Tia. We've sat here for so long now that it must be time to move on." The children all got up and let the woman kiss them on their heads as though she were their mother. All had felt calm. The children were going home and they could sense it.
Hours later, the children were returned to their parents.
Helen sat alone under the canopy of a former busstop in an abandoned street. She realised that the three child spirits should be now at peace and it saddened her to think they spent the past 70 years here all by themselves. She knew that spirits had to trust her to give them freedom to cross over. However, she could not be trusted if she were to appear in her natural form: A wolf.
Once the spirits of the three children entered into the light, Helen was transformed into her own self. She was noted as one of the fewest natural wolves with an ability to reach out to spirits and help pass them on into the light. Such a thing was with her since birth. None of her siblings could communicate with spirits this way. And she was able to project herself into human form so that spirits could talk to her. She was a medium wolf and here this night one job was done.
She bounded away on all fours, satisfied that once again she had given more wandering trapped spirits some final peace.           

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Thursday, 9 June 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Chen Tiangou

It was a chilly Summer morning as I returned home. My little white house between two lacebark trees glowed in the dawn. That twilight sunrise breeze is very cold. Violet clouds were settled across the hills and forests. A herd of antelopes visible on the slopes in the distance, but I'm not going to chase after them. It's much too late and I'm far to tired and old now for such hunting games.
I've been leaving animals alone for most of my life. I'm not interested in killing them for a full moon's thrill when the following day I can buy food from the market. For me, the great hunt is barbaric and unecessary. We, as in, us werewolves have never moved forward in the evolution time period as we're all stuck in the primitive hunter stroke gatherer ways. Some of us few werewolves desire to be civilised, to farm and accept what we are. Being a werewolf is not about hunting and killing. This is how I think, and it was drummed into me by my father, who passed away when I was twelve. He was against the idea that werewolves are just interested in killing.
He was an animal lover and he was an activist too. He campaigned to end the slaughter of domestic dogs for meat. He was arrested for things like that. My mother is a sickly werewolf, who is constantly unwell and bed ridden. I care for her, I shop and work. I act as a nurse.
Werewolves are much more creatures of the moon. We're warriors, healers, artists and thinkers.  
"Your dreams are wild Chen," Mother said to me as I gav her breakfast of soup and she could hardly lift herself up. I know that during a full moon, she becomes a wolf that is very tired and sleeps on the floor. Her yellow eyes are becoming more misted and eventually she'll go blind.
"One day, werewolves will become better understood," I said.
I went outside and watched an air balloon high above wisteria trees and from that balloon were coloured paper. I vanished into the forest. The big cats wouldn't harm me. I've got my abilities to defend myself from danger.
I found scattered pieces of colourful paper and these were fresh and came from that balloon. I noticed they were fliers for a parade going to happen in the haunted and empty Fengmen Village. That was a place best to avoid. Ghosts are really not worth dealing with.
Later my boyfriend Jian came with a bunch of fresh flowers for my mother. It was a really nice thing to do. He's such a gentleman. He took my hand and offered to take me out on a fantastic adventure. I accepted. We got into his car and drove all the way to... yes.
Fengmen Village.
"I don't really want to be here," I said, hoping not to sound too ungrateful.
"Chen, it's going to be cool!" Jian smiled. "I'm going to take pictures."
"Of ghosts?" I asked in shock.
It isn't going to be a fantastic adventure for me.
The whole village gives me the creeps. I noticed a lot of toursist were there with cameras and EVP recorders. Sorry but I'm not going to wait anymore.
The place had its moments. I heard voices and sensed spirits. Most of them were hiding, afraid of me and Jian because we're both werewolves really in our human forms. The bad spirits had to be sleeping.
"Let's get out of here," I said. "I'm hungry."
"We've only been here two hours," he said.
"I prefer to eat a steamed bun that walk around these dead houses. Please let's go. Think of the spice and sugar smells of the food at the market."
I convinced him. We left and had the most delicious snacks in the town market. We had egg rolls, bean icecream and tofu pudding. Jian took me home later.
Tonight is the full moon and he promised to visit me next month so we can explore the forest together as wolves. He promises not to hunt any animals.
But that night, long after Jian went home and mother was still sleeping, a gentle knock on the front door made my heart skip. Who was that?
I looked between the shutters of the window and gazed down to see a girl on the front porch.
The pink lanterns made her illuminated and her hair was long and covered in feathers.
She seemed frail, ill and I couldn't let the poor thing stay outside so late. What if big cats sense her out in the night? Or what if other werewolves come across her and those may not be so nice?
I had to go and answer the door.
And when I did, she was gone. I went out looking for her and couldn't find her. There was unusually no scent either. My wolf side picked up nothing. It was as if she had never existed.
Then inside the house, I noticed a blue figure hovering near my sleeping mother. I went into attack mode, and scared it away. I was sadly too late. Mother was unconsious.
I called for an ambulance straight away. I went with her. The doctors said she had just passed away.
The ghost took my mother.
I shall hunt for this ghost. I don't hunt animals but I shall certainly look for spirits and will get my revenge.        

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Saturday, 4 June 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Emily Mustard

There were long shadows across the lawn of the massive garden. I chased wild rabbits as a child playing here. It had memories locked in the pools and stones, decourations that scattered the landscape for centuries. The wealthy Amber family were obsessed with statues.
These statues recorded memories, and absorbed emotions. It felt so haunted, with their shadows criss-crossing and their castle looming like a big giant skull. Tall poplars made it feel colder in the stately garden.
I am the daughter of people who've been working for the Amber family for years. My grandfather was a butler. My mother is the secretary. Father is a driver. My brothers are guards. My little sister Bev is a trainee fashion designer, who Lady Amber is fond of.
The Ambers are a wealthy beta family of werewolves. I come from a lineage of gamma werewolves.
The betas treat the rest of us like their servants, nothing else. We're nothing to them. They want us to obey them and work hard. Yet the betas are afraid of the alphas, obviously, and second in command to the alphas and subordinates. The alphas are not nice werewolves and I find them scary.
As I chased a white ghosty looking rabbit in circles, I felt my heart tighten and I was in pain. I had to stop. I can't run anymore, since I was treated for cancer two years ago.
"You're not giving up now, Emily!" said Max, who was timing me. He let the rabbit go.
"I give up," I panted, clutching my chest. I sat on the grass. It was so hot and my mouth tasted of blood.
"Someone help!" Max shouted on his phone.
Next, people came running into the garden and lifted me on my feet. I was ushered onto a wheelchair, pushed along the garden path into the back of an ambulance. The Amber family had their own private ambulance and their own hospital. This is where I went. I was treated there for cancer.
I was rushed there with Max and mummy inside, looking worried.
I was sent into the emergency room, examined and had my blood tested.
"She's losing blood," a nurse told Max and mummy.
I could see their faces pull in distress.
The cancer ravaged me internally so that I was always hemorrhaging with the slightest bit of exercise. Blood dripped from my mouth and nose. It was always little problems one after another. A mere cold virus sent me into hospital for bleeding and twisting my lungs and heart a few months ago.
Werewolves suffer cancer just as anybody except the heart donation they gave me was from a dog, not a human. The Amber hospital provided it for me two years ago. Such a thing would be dangerous for regular humans, and not many tried on other werewolves.
I went into shock that first night in hospital. Max and mummy waited in the relative's room and the nurse gave them updates. "Her human side is rejecting the dog's heart," the nurse told them.
I was operated on during the rest of the night.
By morning I was recovering in a small room with flowers and pink curtains. All I had was a machine beeping to keep me company. Max and mummy left hours ago when I was asleep.
Nurse came into the room with a clipboard, plastic smiles and a white uniform. She gave me a food menu and a strong pill. Another nurse in a red uniform took a sample of my blood. Another in green came in a few times to check my blood pressure and IV. The needles in my arms stung if I looked closely at it.
It's been ages since being in hospital. I need to tell you why.
The doctors have been experimenting on me and others. They replaced the dog heart with a synthetic heart, they call it SI, working as the organ itself, pumping blood efficiently. My body didn't reject it and they're watching me round the clock. Sometimes they wheel me outside. During a full moon, I am either stuck in my hospital bedroom or allowed to roam the small corridor outside. I'm like an animal that is lonely because I howl for my family and for Max.
They come to visit once a week. Doctors orders.
It's not just the synthetic heart that they've given me but a new level of being as a wolf. Since I've had this synthetic heart, my wolf side is physically different. I used to be shaggy with grey and black striped fur with yellow eyes. Now half of my body is luminous and my eyes are red. I've noticed that my human hair is slightly darker and my skin tone is off colour. The human side of me looks like death warmed up.
"Hello darling," Mummy said bringing me biscuits and flowers. I've been here for three weeks.
"Where is Max?" I asked.
"Oh, well, your boyfriend is quite busy this morning so I came without him."
Oh I bet he's moved on.
"How is the heart?" she asked me.
"You know about it?"
"Yes," mummy answered. "I wanted them to give you a special new one that is a machine."
"So you're involved in making me a test subject?" I asked feeling so betrayed. She could've asked my permission. I am eighteen. I didn't want to see her ever again. How dare she!
"No, I didn't. It was Lady Amber."
"It's for the best."
"You never asked me!"
"Your opinion doesn't matter, your life is important to us."
So you see. A girl raised in a gamma werewolf family is exposed to forces outside of her control. I've written to others and want to bring to attention that gamma girls are like slaves and toys to mess around with. We're living sentient beings. We're people. We're not monsters. We have some wolf DNA. That's no way to treat us like dirt.  

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Sunday, 29 May 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Sienna Sköllblod

I live in the tallest house on Crescent Moon Avenue. It was built this way to house a litter of 20 children of the former mayor, who lived here 100 years ago. I'm the great granddaughter of the youngest of those 20 children: Sienna Skollblod. My parents names me after my great grandmother because she was quite famous. She became a pilot, an adventuress and a huntress. She did have one very weird trait though. She transformed into a white arctic wolf every full moon and when she did this, she was strong and protected the whole town.
Skollblod was beautiful as her hair was white and she had piercing yellow eyes. As a human she was athletic built and very good at sports. I can never be like her.
I'm not athletic in any way. I'm not one to protect the whole community, as I suffer anxiety and don't like humans. They've tried to kill me all my life because I can't walk properly. I rely on aides. As a wolf, I'm blazing white and have a limp. Other werewolves shun me.
However, I have one trait that makes me strong. I can make fire and eat fire. I breathe fire. Some think I'm a freak of nature. I can do these things both as wolf and a girl.
I'm 20 years old. I let my hair grow matted and some are in half dreadlocks. My family are disgusted by me. They're ashamed because I have a physical disability and unsociable. Werewolves, like wolf packs, are meant to be social. I'm far from it. I want nothing to do with people or werewolves. I wish to be on my own.
When I was 5 years old I was attacked by a vicious cat from the neighbourhood and in self defence I spat flames at it. The cat disappeared in a cloud of ash. My parents beat me severely.
My room is in the chilly attic, with only one electric stove and a thin window I cannot see out of because it's stained blue. I have a swinging lamp, triangle bookshelf, a mattress instead of a bed, old stuffed toys that I've destroyed in childhood (like puppies chew toys to pieces) and no one replaced them for me.
My brothers and sisters have nice rooms and they have everything they want. They've moved out, all married now. I'm still at home, and I choose to be in my attic room. I never feel the cold.
My ancestor was the werewolf king Skoll. In legends he is said to be only in wolf's form who chases the sun until the end of the world. Then he's supposed to devour the sun whole.
That sun was really a powerful sun priestess in prehistoric Sweden, who was subdued by Skoll and then murdered. The king was a cannibal and as wolf, he ate people and displayed their bones in his palace. Don't blame me for the evil of my ancestor.
I'm just tainted now with the ability to burn things and it's best I stay away from everyone.
My family have a crest with the wolf Skoll eating the sun. 

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Monday, 23 May 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Pamela Hatidottir

I was born in a shadow village in the silent volcanic hills of the far north. I'm a teacher and a translater of ancient Nordic languages as well as a professor in archeology.
You would have met my South American colleague, Izel Coztic Cuetlachtli, otherwise named Yellow Wolf. She introduced herself before as did my other friend, the charitable Emily Moonstone.
I originally come from Iceland but my family moved to Canada when I was seven years old.
As you are aware, Fenrir's Daughters is a vast association of werewolf women from all over the world. Some of us have introduced ourselves and many more have yet to. Others choose not to.
My traits of werewolf shapeshifting is considered unique. Other werewolves transform either in anger or during the full moon. I transform under the full moon yes, but I'm not just a wolf in my second form. I'm also pale as the moon and my fur is luminous. My wolf eyes turn cold and electric neon blue. My fangs become deadly as snake venom. My paws leave frost wherever I walk, even in the heat of summer. To the touch, I'm like ice and I've made fingers numb with cold. My friends and lovers have touched me in my wolf shape, not really knowing who I am of course. They love animals which is a good thing.
As a wolf, I'm cold, bright and bitterly cold as the moon itself.
I'm a descendant of Hati Hrodvitnisson, the legend. The same figure who appears as the enemy wolf that devours the moon during the end of the world. Well, my great grandfather wrote about this. He said that our ancestor, Hati was a werewolf creature and a powerful lord. He was nicknamed War Wolf, because he turned into a great vicious wolf in battle. Hati lived in a black castle and was feared by many. He was as infamous as Count Dracul and he was a tyrant of the Bronze Age.
From Hati, I carry the blood of the moon.
It was one warm Spring morning that I was carrying a basket of bread. I was a child back then and I wanted to see my dying grandmother. She lived in a cottage only half a mile away from my parents house. Mother wanted me to go there and give her the fresh bread mother baked.
I wore a red coat with a hood. Yes, typical. I looked like Red Riding Hood. I never made it to grandmother's cottage, because a man abducted me and threatened to kill me. I was too young to turn into the wolf, I had not developed this trait, it was before puberty. Werewolf shapeshifting happens after puberty for our family. However, my grandfather rescued me and tore the horrible stranger to shreds. Sadly, hunters heard the screams of the man and shot dead my grandfather. They took me back to my parent's house. My poor grandmother had died that night and I'm wondering if the news caused her pain.
I discovered that the man who abducted me was a lone hunter, who felt it was his "moral" duty to destroy the world of werewolves. Even us werewolves are always afraid of strangers, and we teach our young ones to never go out alone.  

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Thursday, 12 May 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Maria Storm

It was a beautiful full moon night, and the Spring blossoms floated passed my window. Transparent and luminous butterflies danced in the orchid. Glorious white rabbits stood proud in the garden. I was never going to eat them. They were all statues.
Beside me was the glowing ipad, a type not available to the general public mind you. It was created by a company that makes tech for those few that are paranormal inclined.
I use it to understand the hidden atlas of the local district, showing various different roads and streets that are not visible on basic satellites. They would be impossible to find, but I have the hidden atlas. I used it yesterday to meet my friends in the Blood Moon cafe.
I live in my parent's house in the hidden town of Lustre, in the hidden side of Berkshire. What I can say is that certain laws are different than you think. The law of physics isn't as easy to understand. I'm not going to tell you this boring scientific stuff.
I want to say that I'm in trouble.
The regular police wouldn't understand. I'm worried about the police on the hidden side. And I'm more concerned about they and the Night Patrol who are powerful... children. Ages from 12 to 19, in striped uniforms, clownish harlequin style hats, equipped with lasers and mini devices that set off ear piercing alarms. They also carry nasty flashing guns with strobe light effects that are blinding to everyone else except to them. They keep switching those things on.
The Night Patrol kids are nicknamed "imps" by many.
At the moment there is a curfew and no one is allowed to go out after dark. Night Patrol imp kids are very good at frightening people into staying indoors. I must admit that I find them a bit scary.
They're not regular humans either, I'm certain.
They're not afraid of us werewolves. Nothing seems to scare them.
I came close to a girl imp once as she caught me taking a stroll in the neighbourhood with my wolf senses on alert. She was smaller than I, but spoke with authority and was very commanding, mature and dominant in her voice. She must've been only 15 years old. She used her flashing light to upset me as she told me to go home. She followed me to the gate and stood watching to make sure that I was inside. She even yelled at me to lock my own front door.
I admit that these imps or night police kids are most needed in the regular human world! That wouldn't happen though.
Now I'm worried because I accidently slipped out of my boyfriend's house to enjoy the full moon as a wolf, ignoring curfew.  I avoided the imps as much as I could. I made it home and still the imps knew someone was outside. Voices of imps in the street got my heart racing. When they flashed their lights and put on their alarms, I was in panic. I heard them running up and down the street. They knew someone had definately been outside.
So the authorities will be interviewing everyone in the neighbourhood tomorrow.These would be the adult officials, and they don't care if someone went outside in a wolf shape or not.

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Friday, 6 May 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Sapphire Wolfmoon

My name is Sapphire and my family name is Wolfmoon. It is truly spelt this way:  
ماه گرگ
On ancient record books, gravestones and ancestral diaries, the name Wolfmoon appears to glow silver. The written name always glows at night. It's the mark of the wolf ancestors, who we descend from.
According to tradition, we hunt once a year in the Spring. We don't use weapons. We become wolves. During the Spring, we celebrate Moon Feast, during the first week of May and crown a beautiful Moon Princess in the carnival. Last year, I was crowned Moon Princess and got to wear a beautiful dress. It was actually a sparkling coronet with flowers. This year, I will pass my coronet to the next princess who I know is my cousin, Shirin, who is just sixteen.
In the Spring, I am allowed to go fishing with my brothers and sisters. I like patience but my siblings do not and they end up playing and scaring off the wildlife. I'm 18 years old and still in school as mother wants me to progress another few years, but I will transfer to the academy next term.
My great grandmother, still alive and well over 110, gave me a beautiful necklace with a locket made of marble and inside it was a tiny picture of a wolf that was her great grandmother who was born in the 18th Century. Imagine how long ago that is! Sometimes I sense my foremother around me and she's so kind.
I've never seen a ghost. My brothers and sisters claim to but I don't know if they're lying or not. They love telling stories. I'm not a person to lie but I enjoy telling jokes and pulling pranks.
So I put a coin in my catch's mouth. It was a pike and when we took it home, mother cut it and found the coin. The joke turned into a thing of wonder, which isn't what I was hoping for. I wanted my mother to think the fish was able to swallow money. Instead, they thought it was a miracle.
As a werewolf, I change shape every full moon but I'm not allowed to go outside. We stay indoors. Father is making that rule to keep us safe from hunters.

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Tuesday, 26 April 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Wilone Blackwolf

It was the darkest night ever. Spring and Summer nights tend to be darker than Winter nights. It's shut, as if velvet curtains are drawn across the horizon and the sky feels lowered down to the earth like a dense ceiling of stars and moons. I can smell darker things in Spring and Summer months. It's full of biting tropical insects and reptiles full of venom. The flowers are poisonous at night here in the valleys and the nocturnal blooms spit acid if you try and touch them. The crocodiles are often out in the warm months too and that means keeping young indoors away from going out. It's dangerous and bitter smelling with fermented fruits and alcoholic puddles, the nasty pong of rapeseed fields that are bad for my nose. Vultures come then to feed off the rotten corpses of the dead. There are leftovers of what we've hunted.
This Spring is darker, because I'm followed by hunters. They've tracked the wolf to my house, and can't find her. They've only encountered me. They think I'm keeping the wolf indoors for safety as they view me as an animal rights activist protecting the rights of a wild animal over their cattle, pigs, sheep and little hens. I know the mean hunters will be laying traps. So I can't let my boys and girls play outside as free as I want them to.
My hair is black with Moroccon elemental conditioner and it makes my yellow eyes turn sparkling gold. I've covered my hair in dark butter and tomorrow I shall be with my new mate, Lord Walden Soren, the handsome one with fiery eyes and red hair.
My two sons Jarl, 12, and Viktor, 9, are adventurous on their bikes. My daughters Sonja, 10, and Tilde, 7, like running through the meadows and playing in the grass. They are creative children. The boys built three dens and two tree houses. My daughters set up a campsite and expanded it into a shop, where they sell toys and sweets to human friends. And only one, my eldest child, Jarl, is a wolf during the full moon times because the others have not matured to reach that stage. Being a werewolf in our tribe comes with puberty. I don't want my wolf children getting caught and killed by the hunters.
I'm devastated to hear that one of my children's friends is the son of one of those evil hunters. That killer butchered innocent regular wolves over the years. He wants to clear the land of wild animals. He thinks they're all petes. He finds hatred wherever he goes. I hate that man.
My beloved doesn't turn up.I'm crying tears. Spring is so dark.
As my children sleep, dreaming of their dead father again perhaps, I weep for the love I've been denied.
Then by morning, my lover, Walden Soren, appears at the door covered in mud and blood. I let him inside and give him soup. Instead he wants whiskey. I don't have this.
"I killed that hunter," he told me. "I killed all of the hunters."
He explained to me that while he turned into a wolf, he slaughtered all three of the hunters one by one. He picked them. He stalked them in the forest.
"Now the world is going to come after us," I reply in sadness.
"The world isn't going to come after us," he replied. "Humans will go after wild animals."
"I hate humans," I said. I'm afraid of humans.
He looked at me. "Humans are not the enemy."
"But you killed them tonight."
"No, I killed the hunters."
"The hunters are humans."
"Yes but the enemy isn't humans."
I don't understand. We're argueing now.
"The enemy is ourselves," he told me.
It's a miserable conversation. I listen to him try and teach me to understand how us werewolves have been behaving for the last few hundred thousand years. Most of it is appalling. He finishes the history lesson and I'm suddenly ashamed to be a werewolf after that.
"You need to read the books in my castle," he says.
We visited his castle that weekend and I found the books in his library. I can't understand the old writing. He does. He translates it. I don't feel ashamed to be a werewolf now. I feel disgusted that werewolves have been so brutal, evil and cruel in the past. Werewolves have slaughtered villages of humans and given large populations the plague. Werewolves invented warfare, and set fire to whole communities, deliberately starving people, drowing them, torturing them, eating them and then sacrificing them. Humans were butchered to death on pyramids for the so-called worship of the sun. Werewolf nobles believed that the sun healed and wanted at extension of sunlight to prevent painful transformations. Also to stop the wolf god swallowing the sun, they had human sacrifices. They killed innocent healthy young humans at alter sites everywhere, from Stonehenge to the Aztec pyramids.
"Be proud to be werewolf," he goes on during dinner of steak and blood wine. "We're also humans but a stronger form with the descent from wolves. Each human contains canine DNA and it's more dominant in werewolves."
"Why do we change into wolves?" I asked.
"Because of a prehistoric curse." Then he smiled "I meant, mutations to be exact."
There were ancient werewolves who tampered with nature. The mutated forms switch from wolf to human, wolf to human, every so often. Humans can produce children with werewolves. But werewolves can't mate with canines species.
"There is a type of wolf that tranforms into a human but those are really mutated humans."
The subject got darker than that. My lord and lover is a former airforce pilot and a scientist. He knows everything but he's just a man of 40 years of age. He's got two beautiful teenage daughters who I've yet to meet. I could tell you of our wedding but that is another story. I wanted to share this with you. I'm Wilone Blackwolf and I'm 35 years old.

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Thursday, 21 April 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Princess Valencia

The forest was very dark even in the day.
I carried my flashlight and ventured in.
The sky clouded over and it was difficult to see.
I found my camp, next to a bent tree.
The tent looked dirty.
I couldn't hear any birds singing.
My fingers turned numb with cold.
Now it was time.
I gazed around me until water filled my vision.
Then I spewed liquid.
My nose was bleeding.
Not again.
I fell to the ground in pain.
My rucksack was heavy so I took it off.
I dropped my flashlight and compass.
I ripped open the tent and went inside.
I remember crying and screaming in agony.
Blood went everywhere.
I was bleeding from my nose and mouth.
It was the worst pain ever.
Then I wondered what I was doing out here.
As if to kill the pain, I swallowed a pebble.
My throat burned and I couldn't breathe.
Then the pain was gone, and my throat was better.
I swallowed the stone like it was a sweet.
I got up, only I was taller.
Instead of my hair, there was pointed ears.
I had a tail.
Instead of my manicured hands were paws.
My clothes crumpled off on the floor around me.
I could see better, and everything looked sharp.

I woke up in the smeet scented room, with black drapes around my bed. The French windows were open, and a flowering breeze entered on a rainbow of light from the stained glass panes. I found a dish of berries and a thin glass of champagne next to me, left there by someone. My maid? mother? sisters? my knight in shiming armour? It wasn't breakfast. My usual meals consists of red steak and antichoke. This was a sweet.
"You're awake, princess!" the light voice of Naomi, my baby sister, sounded as she entered my room.
"And why aren't you in school?" I asked her.
She wore a shimmering golden hooded jacket and her lovely green eyes pulsated with excitement at seeing my hands.
"You're getting married!"
There is a diamond ring on my finger but it was a birthday present from my knight in shining armour. "No this is just a gift from Faolan."
Sir Faolan was twentyfour and killed beasts as well as demons. He's so handsome and I wait for him to propose to me. I will say little to him.
Then he shall come to visit me again and it will be under the full pink moon this April as blossoms wake me up from my shapeshift pattern. Faolan should still love me as he loves me as a princess.
After the day was over, I waited in the garden. Faolan rode on his white horse, and he shone like the moonlight. The diamonds on my ring sparkled.
I became wolf, in front of him, before I become his wife it is fair that I bare my soul and reval my second half. My wolf self is beautiful, shining and white with a blue sheen. He drops to his knees and lowers his sword. Faolan's long red hair hangs to the soft grass when he looks downcast. Have I upset him?
"My beautiful beloved Valencia," Faolan says sadly. "There's nothing more painful than the death of love between two people. You are not who I thought you were."
His words pain me. I return to my human form and I go to him. My silk dress, diamond ring, golden bangles and tiara feel cheap and love is more precious. Love that is finer than all the golds, diamonds, precious stones and glitter in the world. I know it's more trwasure now. You don't know how worthy love is until it's gone.
"I am the same person you loved," I tell him. There is tears in his eyes. My knight in shining armour. My warrior. My lover. He doesn't love me anymore.
The pain is like death.
He got up and walked away from me as if I wasn't there. He returned to his horse, and rode away. Gone.
I cannot describe the horrors I felt tonight. Losing my dear love. I revealed to him my true self. He didn't love me for who I really am. To him now I am a monster. He couldn't kill me so he left. He ripped my heart to pieces as though it were just paper.
The blossoms fall from the trees around me like tears. I will cherish the empty diamond ring. I will return to my palace and retreat to my room in silence then ride this hurt. It's a pain worse than anything I've ever felt before.  

 ((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Saturday, 16 April 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Ruby Dominicanis

For days I felt sick. I ate poisonous berries given to me by so-called friends. These were humans that I trusted and I accepted their gift of fruit sponge made by one of the girls. I was eating my gift after they had gone away laughing. Now I know why they laughed. Because they poisononed me.
My mother came to see me once I phoned her while feeling ill. She looked after me and had the sponge tested. The berries were deadly red English yew berrres with some added wolfbane!
I was seen by Doctor Silver Star, a werewolf, and given meds and treated with bed rest and water. I almost died on Sunday evening.
We couldn't get the police involved, as mainstream police will want facts, they'll want to know why I didn't see a regular doctor and why I wasn't rushed to A and E. They will ask too many questions.
I was told by mum and Dr Silver to "leave it to us".
I never want to see those mean evil human friends.
Now I'm recovered, I can get back to my studies and resume my life, and avoid humanity, and never trust people again.
Why would they kill me?
They don't know I'm a werewolf. That answers one question. As to why they wanted to kill me, I don't know. Because I'm different, I guess. 
((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Sunday, 10 April 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Rochelle Moonbeam

The forest was dense and thick with a mist of cobwebs.
"The widows of twilight made that," said aunt Kia.
I ate a cooked breakfast of meat and bread, as my two cousins played with toy cars on the floor. They had their breakfasts already.
"They're not real," I sighed. "It's a story."
"Yes they are real!" Little Cezar yelled angrily at me in loyalty to his mother.
Aunty Kia told him off for shouting. Then she said to me, "Just don't go in the forest at night or in the day."
"Why?" I asked. The forest doesn't scare me. I'm a creature of the night, as I quote from the book of Count Dracula. My entire family and I are werewolf kin. We belong to the ancient werewolf clans who lived through Dacia Felix, Wallachia and Romania. The forest is where I run freely. I'm at one with the forest. My aunt thinks I'm still a child.
"These are vampires who will suck the life out of anyone unfortunate to go in there during those times when the dreaded widows are out and about, weaving their silken threads until dawn."
"Aunt Kia," I finish my breakfast now. "They can't kill me."
"Mortals and ordinary people can't," she said. "The widows can!"
Her frightening words scare me. But what do I care? Stories for children.
My family, werewolves, are not immune to the scary stories. Even we were fed creepy legends of ghosts and vampires when we were small. We can be afraid of the dark just as much as ordinary humans can be. I've gone out in forests and fields many times. I'm not scared of the dark.
Yet aunt Kia may have a different reason to be worried for me. Ever since my parents died four years ago, she's taken me in and treated me very well. I suffer with epilepsy and have to take medicines brewed by her friend, a clever herbalist, so I'm not treated by mainstream doctors.
Yes werewolves have ailments, illnesses, diseases and disabilities too.
I think she's worried I'll go out and have a siezure. It must be it.
So one evening, against her warnings, I venture out and become my nocturnal self... the wolf.
As I explore the deep dark forest, I can hear the insects, owls, distant cries of foxes. I hear the sound of real natural wolves too over the hills, miles and miles away. I'm way outside their territories. But I can see shining lights glittering like illuminated dew drops, all throughout the forest. Then its spread all over like pretty glittering pearl necklaces.
Those lights are not pearls or dewdrops. I can see it is the spark of moonlight upon thick twists of cobweb threads! Eeek!
I don't venture on, because I'm not going to be tangled up in sticky spider webs.
Then the ghostly white forms of dancing maidens emerged from behind the trees. They smiled at me and laughed like teenage schoolgirls. I knew they were spectral beings, and I sensed dread. I backed away. The maidens floated through the air like feathers, and surrounded me. They threw daisy chains at me, all entwined with cobwebs, so that I wasn't able to move.
I growled and bared my teeth. These ghost maidens captured living animals often in the past, I could tell. I noticed that they were giving off a foul smell like rotten corpse.
Bursting through the trees were a large pack of angry wolves. My family and friends! The ghost maidens disappeared, and the dairy chains lost their hold onto me and broke apart. I was freed.
I was escorted home safely and the wolves transformed into people wishing me well.
"Thank you all for saving me," I said.
"No problem Rochelle," they told me.
Then aunt Kia said "You encountered the evil widows of twilight. They could've killed you. I told you not to go into that forest," she scolded me.
The others went home. She made me soup. My two cousins were asleep in their beds.
"Why do you live here then aunt Kia if those creatures haunt the nearby forest?" I asked.
"It's out ancient territory and I'm the guardian. I won't let these damned ghosts frighten me away."
"They're capable of killing any living person and animal," I said. "What if Cezar and Dan wander off outside in the future..."
"They will be protected as you were tonight."
"Not everyone is protected. I guess many poor people and animals fell victim to those rotten smelling gouls."
Then aunt Kia handed me a huge book. It contained historical facts and figures about the clan, the area and the forest itself. The widows are simply a curse on the land from a dead man who was bitten by a poisonous spider. Out of revenge he cursed everyone here in the land with the widows of death that he conjured up. The widows are spirits of princesses who are forever trapped in the desire to feed off the living. Someone needs to undo all of that.
One day I plan to take this information with me to the city of Bucharest and find a hero (a werewolf warrior) who can right this wrong. So far, no one outside the village knows about this local legend. 

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Jasmine Greywolf

Hello, my name is Jasmine Greywolf and I'm 21 years old. I'm in an international club called Fenrir's Daughters, filled with members who are women werewolves. Recently I got married to a handsome man named Hemming and he's a werewolf. This is my story.
The wedding was on a dreary morning in April. That was arranged by Nina, my mother in law. I hadn't met her until the wedding but she worked as a key player in organising the reception, paying for the venue, transport and food. She paid for the honeymoon weekend. It was in Hawaii and that was a magical dreamy time full of warm romance.
When mother, sisters and I went to the bridal shop months ago to get my measurements, the shop assistant told me that she can make me a "surprise gown" all designed by Nina herself. That's right, Nina got me the dress. I didn't actually see it until the morning of my wedding!
The dress arrived in a box and when I opened it, my eyes stared at this thing. The bridal dress was jet black! It was like something fit for a funeral and not a wedding. I ended up with a shiny oily looking black tiara. My bouquet was full of black dhalias, orchids and red roses. The shoes were also black. Perhaps Nina wanted me cursed wearing black!
"Don't worry sweetie," mother said optimistically. "I can turn you into a princess no matter what."
She tied a silver ribbon around my hair and pinned pink roses across the brocade of my dress.  Mother sprayed my hair in glitter, and put on my make-up and silver jewellery.
The wedding came and went. It was fun, despite the dress. I came to like the dress anyway. Nina, my mother-in-law was so pleasant and charming towards me and she was more beautiful than I imagined.
Hemming and I returned from out honeymoon and we had to live with Nina for a month until our own house was ready. Yes, Nina was sorting that out too. Nina was arranging for me to have my own "boudoir" in the house. She started planning the decor, the landscaping of the back garden of which I've never seen at the time. She wanted me to start working in her office, under her business in the fashion industry. She wanted me to cut and curl my hair and change the way I dress. Then she started acting weird.
"Don't wear the colours red, orange or black everyday," Nina told me one day. "Those are sacred colours to be worn only for special occasions."
I have many clothes (day wear) in these colours. I wasn't allowed to wear them. She convinced me to give them away to charity and she replaced them with colours of her choice.
What was the issue?
One day, Hemming and I moved into our house. Nina was there with us. It was basically a copy of her house! The boudoir she designed for me was something only she would like, it was very grim with black, grey and brown colours. It wasn't comfortable. She insisted I will get used to it.
"Hemming, why is your mom doing this?" I asked my husband.
"Because she cares about us," he said.
During the first full moon of our life together in our new house, we became wolves and ventured into the garden. It smelled of Nina. I couldn't help it. I was growling from fear. My hind fur stood up on end. I bared my teeth. I didn't like Nina anymore. My wolf side hated Nina and regarded her as a threat. I wanted to kill her. Those were my wolf instincts. It was just as well Nina wasn't there or I would've destroyed her.
When I regained humanity and became a woman the following morning, I remembered those drastic feelings as a wolf. I changed my feelings about my marriage to Hemming and saw his mother for what she is: controlling and a bully.
"What do you mean you want a divorce!!!!" Hemming shouted at me.
Yes, I proposed it that morning. I want out of the marriage and be away from his overbearing awful mother. I didn't really love him, I realised. It was all prearranged because I'm from an alpha family as he is. This isn't what I wanted.
"Sorry," I said. "I can't cope with all of this. Your mother is trying to alter me as a person and I'm not having it anylonger. I'm your wife. Not her slave!"
We argued. He finally left slamming the door behind him.
He will return later, I know, and bring Nina with him! I got in the car and drove away, not to my parents' house. I drove further away and checked into a hotel. Divorce will be difficult and Nina will make sure of this. One night, under a full moon I was in a street of a suburb. I wanted to disappear into the woods. Then something stalked me, it was Nina!
We had a fight, and much blood was shed. Someone heard us, and fired at us. I fled quickly and the bullet went into Nina. I ran off into the woods.
Nina was found dead the next morning covered in blood. In the end Nina was out forever and I didn't have to kill her. I was finally able to divorce Hemming without her influence. He could keep the house. Now I can wear the colours red, orange and black whenever I want to. She can't stop me anymore. I'm an alpha and so was she. We were meant to be rivals. One of us had to die.

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Sunday, 3 April 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Gwenda Nightshade

The flames turned blue in the small glass globes as I clipped them upon each ear. The dangling fiery earrings were heavy. I wanted to take them off. Those in my pack clan stared at me and they knew I was in discomfort with those fire balls on my ears.
"When will this finish?" I asked pleadingly to the pack leader, Sierra the alpha.
"When your initiation is complete," she said with her pretty cool smile. Sierra was beautiful with mahogany hair and green eyes. She wore shining clothes and metals that smelled like the hot fires they were prepared in. Sparks crackled in her hair when she moved.
"Now Gwenda," Sierra and a girl whose name I don't know, both held two small crowns. One of them was fatal and if worn it could kill the wearer. The other was ordinary metal. They handled both crowns with gloves and put the crowns on a red pillow.
"Pick one, Gwenda," Sierra ordered.
I could smell the toxic poison from the crown on the left. Both were identical. I placed the poison smelling crown atop my head. It wasn't actually silver but steel. I could smell it's industrious origins from a steel plant. It was the safe one.
"Well done, Gwenda," Sierra said. "You selected the right choice. The other is made from pure silver and could've killed you. Now you're part of my pack."
I took off the crown and the fire ball earrings. The blue flames within had gone out. Initiated into Sierra's Glow Moon Pack. She was in charge of it. Sierra is daughter of alphas and is supposedly a geneticist. She's too far out there in my view to be the typical scientist. Yet she owns a pack of werewolves, consisiting of all of the towns people who are werewolves by nature. As I moved here just three months ago, I was allowed to join.
Maybe I shouldn't have done. I'm an omega werewolf. I turn into a werewolf every full moon, and I'm subordinate to the moonlight and pack. I'm supposed to do as I'm told.
The werewolves in this town, and in my hometown, have always treated me like rubbish. I was bullied, picked on, spied upon. I'm not allowed to choose my own path in life. I'm the imprisoned one and if I dare choose my destiny in life, they will kill me.
Sierra promised to change all that for me. She said: "Gwenda, you're now in my pack, darling, and you are free to be whoever you want to be. You're a beautiful young woman with gorgeous white hair. You can aspire greater things in life too."
She's like my fairy godmother.
When I was initiated into her pack, I felt so happy that I made myself drunk silly on wine that evening. Perhaps it's a good thing I moved here afterall.
"How are you feeling?" asked Tangerine, my neighbour, who lived in the next apartment.
"I feel better than before!" I said, still tipsy as I wobbled in the corridor and fumbled for my keys.
Tangerine was smiling and I understood that she understood. She's a werefox and I envy the foxes as they have such wonderful freedom. I unlocked the door to my apartment and then my phone vibrated.
"Who is it?" I asked when I pressed reciever.
"Gwenda, it is us," said an unfamiliar man's voice.
"You know who we are."
"No I don't!"
"You've joined Sierra's pack."
"How do you know?" I asked feeling panic. "Once again I'm asking who are you?"
 "Let us say we're your big wolf family. Remember to know your place."
Then the phone went dead. I couln't trace the caller as number was witheld.
The following day I visited Sierra and told her about the strange phonecall. She made me coffee and told me not to worry about it. That was all she could say. Most of the time was spent an hour there listening to her talk about her lovely holidays in exotic places. I left feeling jealous of her but with a stomach ache and I vomitted blood in the street. I knew that there was some poison in that coffee. How could she? "Know your place" those words echoed.
I became a wolf that night under the full moon, and I ventured outside, needing to be with my new pack. Instead, I was confronted by a pack of unfriendly wolves that bit me. The local town werewolves didn't want to include me in their night run.
I now sit here miserable. Sierra gave me a job working as a cleaner in a hotel. What she did earlier was a ploy to make me want to join her pack and be her omega. If I hadn't of joined then I would be better off. Free as the fox woman who lives next door. I've decided that all I can do is share my story with Fenrir's Daughters.

 ((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.

Tuesday, 29 March 2016

Fenrir's Daughters: Frostine Blackthorn

"Queen of Spades?"
"Yes it is," I said.
"Then you can go in," said the doorman.
"Thank you."
I entered the cabaret and it was a very smoky environment packed with glittery flotsam of bitter perfumes. They sure smelled of tobacco and vice. So I took a space seat by a table and ordered a soft cognac with tension in my voice.
The moment my glass was set in front of me, I knew this could be it. The singer was pretty and although she wasn't Eartha Kitt she had a lovely voice and presense that tempered my angry mood that dark night. It was raining now, I could tell because of the aroma I can understand. Being a creature as I am, a child of the moon, as some horror film may describe me as a wolf woman, but wolfbane doesn't have that kind of affect on me.
I light my cigarette and draw in the heat and the sweet burning tar that gives me ease and focus. After the first score, I notice Henry enter the venue and stride over to the bar, typically. I've been watching him carefully for two days, but this is soon my moment to strike.
I remove my golden compact mirror from my vlvet purse, and check out my eyeliner. The lights are so dim here, but I can see better than other people can. It's not my make-up that I'm looking for but the signs of topaz in the iris' giving me an indication that the moon is drawing me closer.
Tonight I will fulfil my hunt. I will execute Henry and accomplish my revenge.
He killed my father.
I hate that man.
When Henry checks his wrist watch, he removes his fedora hat. Now I am so sure he'll enter the door through the side and that leads to the stairs. He does that so he can be alone in the upper chamber with a friend. If I can follow him now, I will track his movements and then catch him unawares.
I keep my deringer safely in my coat pocket along with my hankie.
That man is going to die tonight. I am right. Henry goes through the door and I feel ready. I casually walk to that same door and open it trying to feel calm and cool. I must never give away suspicion. I ascend the carpetted stairs and pass no one. Shadows on the walls over paintings flicker because of an overhead thunderstorm.
Henry's scent leads me into a corner, but no one else is up there. I know he's waiting for someone and now is my time to kill him. The deringer is a back-up. I don't want to cause any noise. I can feel pain now enveloping me as I will myself to transform into the wolf. Before I can change at all, I'm nudged in the back.
"Stop right there miss!"a woman points her gun into my back. She's red haired and her eyes are blazing as amber stones. A werewolf, like me! Owch!
"Excuse me," I said, remaining as calmly as I can.
"I know what you're up to," she said.
"You do?" I asked innocently.
She nods and points her gun upwards.
"Get up there," she demands.
I'm escorted by this woman wolf with a gun pointing in my back. She makes me turn the corner and face Henry, who looks at me with cold eyes. He murdered my father.
"Thank you very much, Claudine," Henry said to the woman. "I appreciate your help."
"No problem, sir," she responds.
I act as naive as I could. Playing with them, pretending I don't know what the fuss is about.
"Queen of Spades," Henry said. "That is what you're called here."
"Yes," I tell him. It's a nickname given to me by Norman, my employer. I worked as an accountant for him and he was part of the mob too. A quick background here, my father was linked with the gangsters or an associate is better the word. He was a gentleman and owned a restaurant. Henry used a machine gun and killed my father a few years ago and got away with it.
"I'm sure you understand never to hunt the hunter," said Henry, with his eyes glowing like ice.
Oh my God! What have I got myself into?
Not only was Henry just an ordinary gangster, he was an alpha wolf. He stood there, on all fours, grey fur, baring his teeth. He was the biggest wolf I've ever seen. I couldn't get away. Claudine was not pointing her gun in my back anymore. She closed her jaws over my neck. All turned dark.
I was taken out instantly. I share this sad miserable failed attempt at revenge.
My real name is Frostine Blackthorn. Now as a spirit telling Fenrir's Daughters my story that happened in the year 1946, a past time wolf woman that will teach others never to seek out revenge blindly and don't be involved in your parent's darkest business affairs.

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2016 Rayne Herbert.