The Steele Wolf

“You’re safe now,” he stated.



“I was safe before at the Citadel,” I hinted.



“Bah!” He spat into the fire. “You can’t be safe with that kind, you can’t trust them. What they can do is unnatural, they are inbred heathens.”



“Is that why you won’t participate in the council sessions?” I asked.



“Thalia, you know the reasons why.” He looked at me questioningly. “You were my biggest supporter for not going!”



I looked at my feet. He cleared his throat. “They said something had happened to you.”



“Yes, it’s time you know the whole truth.” I took a deep breath let it all rush out: the story of my imprisonment, torture and lack of memories, but I left out going to the Citadel. When I was done, I couldn’t even make eye contact, for fear of the disgust I would see in my father’s eyes. Instead, I saw indignation, helplessness and fury, but it wasn’t directed toward me. He was directing it toward himself and I could have sworn I saw tears in his eyes.



My father howled his rage, “WHAT!” He kicked a stump into the fire, which sent ashes flying. He grabbed his sword and motioned towards the closest warrior.



Immediately one of his own clansmen picked up another sword and ran to meet him in challenge. The sound of swords clashing made me jump to my feet and run towards Faraway in fear. Grabbing his mane, I was about to swing myself up bareback and ride away, when a hand grabbed a hold of mine atop Faraway’s mane.



“Wait, Meja Faelan.” Stunned, I turned to look at the hand holding mine and saw the one I nicknamed Fox Fur. “You should know he only fights to vent his anger. When he has bested all of us, he will calm down again.” Holding out his hand towards the fire, I followed him back and took up a seat farther away from the fighting. Bearen had beaten one of the clansmen and another had jumped up eagerly to join in the fight.



“I should know all of this, but I don’t,” I said regrettably to him as he took up a seat next to mine. “I can’t remember anything before...”



Fox Fur stiffened next to me and turned to look at me closely. “You don’t remember us?” he asked. “You don’t remember me?”



Breathing out a frustrated sigh, I turned and looked at Fox Fur a little closer. He was easily the second tallest clansman next to my father. He had long auburn hair that was tied back with a leather strap. Alert green eyes and angular jaw complemented his features, making him resemble the animal that he wore on his shoulders, the fox. His boots were well tended and his arm circlet was silver in design and wound around a very well toned arm. Looking away from him quickly and back at the fire, I shook my head.



I heard him swear. “Excuse me; I think it’s my turn to join your father.” Grabbing a discarded sword, he stepped in the path of Bearen’s downward swing and blocked the sword from hitting another clansman. I watched in fascination, as they were both equally matched fighters. Bearen had been fighting for some time and you could see that he was tiring. About a candle mark later, the fight ended in a draw. Huffing and puffing and with many slaps to the back, both fighters walked away and kneeled by the fire. One of the men brought them each something to drink.



An elderly man handed a tankard to me and I took a swallow, before almost choking on the pungent taste. He watched me give it a wary look before pushing it to the side. The grey haired man sat down next to me cross-legged.



“Sorry, Thalia, I overheard your earlier conversation. It’s hard to believe that someone that we’ve all seen raised from a kittling is unable to remember us.” I heard a catch in his throat and I saw that his grey eyes turned glassy with emotion, before he cleared his throat and looked at me kindly.



“I’m Odin, your chosen godfather, and that young one,” he motioned to Fox Fur, “is Fenri.” Pointing to the others in the camp he named them off; Gotte, Forsk, Hemi, Aldo, and Eviir. I tried to place the names with the faces, but I felt a moment of panic as I realized it wasn’t sinking in. I started to twirl my hair around my finger as I tried to recall each of their names from memory.



“Ahh,” Odin pointed at my finger and hair. “You may have forgotten us, but some things, Thalia, you won’t ever forget. You used to do that as a child.” He smiled in triumph. “You are still our little Faelan, little wolf.” Whereas Joss called me little fish, my clan called me little wolf. I couldn’t escape the stupid nicknames.



“Odin, what happened to me? What happened to me the night I disappeared?”



Odin’s face turned to stone and he quit smiling. “You should ask your father. And not bother an old man with heartache in the retelling.” He started to shut down.



“Please, Papa Odin?” The name just slipped out, and the old warrior looked at me and his eyes became glassy once more as he looked into the night and tried to blink away the tears.



“See, you called me Papa! You’re slowly remembering.” Turning his head he looked to see where Bearen sat, before continuing on. “It was the night of our Hunter's Moon feast. Amidst all of the rejoicing and celebration you had disappeared. We don’t know exactly when, but your father didn’t notice your disappearance until morning, thinking you had stayed the night with your cousin.”



“I have a cousin?”



“Two,” Odin answered. “When we couldn’t find you, your Father sent every warrior out on horseback looking for you. For months we’ve been searching, never giving up hope. We heard of some messengers that were looking for a young girl similar to you, and Bearen decided to investigate. The closer we came to Calandry the more rumors we heard. Your father had every intention of asking the Council for help in finding you, which is a big step, when you know how against council affairs he is. It was just our God’s favor on us that we found you there.”



Looking at the gruff bearded form of my father staring moodily into the fire made me realize that underneath his warrior exterior, there was a kind and loving heart, even if he refused to show it. Getting up, I walked over to Bearen and sat next to him silently.



“It would be best when we get home that you don’t speak of those heathen Denai,” he spoke gruffly. “You will go through a cleansing ceremony and then we will allow some time for you to readjust to being home.” Pulling out a sharp knife he stabbed at another piece of meat that was roasting on the fire and turned it over. “The less you speak of these horrors, the easier it will be for you to resume your old life. I will make excuses to the clan to leave you well enough alone, until you are able to remember your old life.”



“Father?” I spoke hesitantly, letting the word I just spoke sink heavily into the night air. “There’s more, we must speak about what happened to me and what led me to being in the training program at the Citadel.”



“You are strong and will recover; you are my daughter,” he said fiercely.



“No, Father, the Septori… they did something to me when I was captured and I’m no longer the same. I’m different. I’m twisted. I can do things no Denai—” A quick intake of breath between his teeth and a feral gleam in his eyes made me halt any other words I was about to say.



“No daughter of mine would willingly discuss that which we have forbidden,” he growled quietly. “It’s against our laws, and you must promise to never do it again. Do you hear me?” I could see a sense of panic start to ride the wave of his emotions.