“The harsh truth of our existence is that each of us is exactly where we’re meant to be, and that’s not for us to decide. Our duty is to honor the path laid out for us by higher powers.” That was my father’s favorite saying. I must have heard it a thousand times, maybe more, but as I grew older, deep down, I began to stubbornly hope that my father was wrong. I dreamed that I could change my life, choose my own destiny.
But I couldn’t share such thoughts with a single soul in the settlement of Criland. My place in the life of our people had already been decided by my father. I remember my childhood vividly, though there wasn’t much to remember. Every day mirrored the last—months, years, all blending into one endless stretch of confinement, a sentence without a voice. It wasn’t even a childhood, more like a preparation for the trials destined to fall upon me, trials I hadn’t yet faced but were already carved into my fate. And my father was determined that I would face them with honor.
The moment of my birth was marked by a ferocious storm that swept across our northern lands. It nearly destroyed our crops and livestock. Ruin and the threat of famine overshadowed my arrival—a tiny infant girl, born through the agonizing labor of my poor mother.
... I never saw her loving eyes, never felt the warmth of a mother’s touch. She passed away the instant I let out my first cry. I was their first and only child. My father named me Tara, and he gave me his care and upbringing—or at least what he considered care. You see, Gregor, my father, was regarded as a gifted guide in Criland. He alone knew every hidden trail in the surrounding lands, every underground labyrinth carved by the wolfgars. Gregor could lead anyone safely through the rocky paths to any settlement. His knowledge was invaluable in my world, and for that, he was deeply respected in Criland. He sat on the council of elders, his word carried weight, and for me, it became law.
For reasons known only to him, Gregor decided to pass his precious knowledge, his secrets, to me. Step by step, he poured the hidden routes into my young mind.
“Tara, your mother gave her life for you, and that was not in vain! You must justify your existence! You will become a vessel for invaluable knowledge, and after me, you will serve the people of Criland!”
As I grew, so did the knowledge within me, gained through grueling, painstaking effort that had cost more than a few lives. My father drew maps for me, tracing rough fingers along the wavy lines on parchment, whispering explanations for every fork, every turn. I had to learn, memorize, and then recite the lessons back to him—how many steps to take before turning left or right in this or that labyrinth. My knowledge was tested harshly. Mistakes were punished—sent to sleep in the underground tunnels or denied a meal. Over time, I stopped fearing the dark altogether and could easily fall asleep on an empty stomach.
My father was relentless, dedicating every free moment to me with a near-fanatical zeal when he wasn’t away on expeditions. In his absence, I was drilled by Skiff and his wife Linda, a gruff, stern, childless couple who had agreed to assist my father in raising me. Linda was harsh, frugal, and tight-lipped, a woman who seemed terrifying to me back then. But as I grew older, I realized the poor soul was simply plain-looking. I’m not sure who taught me the concept of beauty—perhaps it was just a child’s keen observation. For instance, the blacksmith’s wife, Dorothy, a buxom, rosy-cheeked beauty, seemed to me the pinnacle of perfection. I even felt a quiet pity for my awkward caretaker and diligently listened to her lessons. Linda taught me the simple tasks of womanhood—cooking, keeping a home, and other mundane chores. Compared to memorizing route maps, these were trifles. Because of the mission my obsessive father had placed on me, I rarely saw other children, and when I did, it was from a distance. The “vessel of a guide’s knowledge” grew up lonely and, because of that, deeply unhappy. Truth be told, I often didn’t understand why I had to endure all this. Nor did I fully grasp why Skiff exhausted me with his lessons in wielding weapons. Yes, I knew that in my world, you couldn’t take a step without a sword or a bow and arrows, that if you didn’t kill, you’d be killed. But imagining myself striking down an imaginary enemy with a dagger—it didn’t sit right with me. When Skiff, trembling with anticipation, recounted his numerous battles and the enemies he’d felled, hoping to inspire awe in me, my face, twisted with disgust, only disappointed him. So he trained me with a resigned sense of duty. At first, Skiff—a burly but agile, battle-hardened warrior—taught me to handle daggers, then a bow, and later had a lighter sword crafted for me. In Criland, everyone, regardless of gender or age, had to know how to wield a weapon. That was just another facet of our life.
In our world, fortified settlements like ours had existed for centuries, but we humans shared this land with the wolfgars, who also claimed it as their own and sometimes sought to rule it entirely. So, brutal wars erupted from time to time, and frequent wolfgar raids on our border pastures fueled the unquenchable rage of our warriors, who retaliated with punitive strikes into wolfgar territory. Linda told me they were filthy, repulsive monsters, not even human, far worse than predatory beasts. Skiff, who had fought them personally, offered more detailed and vivid accounts—if you could call the words of a taciturn, graying warrior vivid. He was the one who told me that in daylight, wolfgars looked almost human, with the same arms, legs, and faces, except for... their eyes. They were incredibly agile and fast, their lightning-quick movements nearly impossible to track. Wolfgars could leap vast distances, far greater than any human, and climb sheer cliffs with the dexterity of creeping serpents. Their sense of smell rivaled that of hunting dogs. But at night, when a different, subtle force permeated our world, wolfgars could, at will, take on another form—a dangerous, predatory, powerful, and equally swift guise. It was at night that they usually hunted. The warriors of our settlement feared facing these monsters in the dark, preferring to engage them in battle only during the day, when the odds were somewhat evened. It was said that wolfgars were cruel and merciless, that they despised humans, and that, whether by night or day, they could drain a person of every last drop of blood. So it’s no surprise that all the terrifying tales of our people were tied to the night and the monsters that prowled in the darkness.
And yet, I loved the night! It was the only time I felt free from the burden of knowledge and training.
... The night—it called to me, for I shared secrets with it. At night, I had strange dreams, seeing unfamiliar people, creatures, and incomprehensible events. Over time, to my immense and unexpected horror, the events from my dreams began to spill into reality. I realized I could foresee the future. At first, it amused me, but then it started to truly frighten me. I was terrified of telling anyone about this ability, fearing I’d be branded a harbinger of doom. I knew that those who predicted misfortune were fiercely hated, and I was already scarcely regarded with kindness or affection. So I kept silent. I simply knew, and I waited.
I can’t say I was an obedient or submissive girl. No, it was more that I sensed, in this seemingly hopeless situation, I had to do what was expected of me. But I also knew that one day, things would change.
I heard about wolfgars constantly, but I “got lucky” and saw one for myself when I was about twelve. By then, my inner rebellion had outgrown me, and my very being demanded release from the chains that deliberately held me, out of fear I’d spill all the knowledge I’d been entrusted with. The shadowy image of these dreadful creatures began to haunt me at night in my strange visions. And so, I made a decision. I dared to escape from Linda while my father was away from the settlement, to slip beyond its borders. After all, I knew not only the layout of Criland but every entrance and exit.
... Those feelings are impossible to forget. A bird, longing for freedom, had been released from its hated cage! It felt as though wings had sprouted from my back, and my breath caught in my throat! Freedom... it meant more to me than it could to anyone else. I’m certain the ordinary folk of my settlement wouldn’t have understood me. My head spun with these emotions, and I drank in every moment of this stolen liberty. Slipping past the guards, I breathed in the free wind for the first time in my life, a breeze that had swept in from wolfgar territories to our walls. I didn’t plan to wander far, just to the edge of the forest on my own. In that moment, I was happy! Words can hardly capture the depth of what I felt then. Every bush, every flower with its soft petals, every sound drifting from the forest, the scent of grass—it was all a wonder to me. Curiosity urged me deeper into the woods, each step enchanting me, irresistibly tempting me to take the next. Perhaps I ventured too far. My reckless curiosity unexpectedly led me to an encounter with... a wolfgar.
He leapt down from a tree right in front of me.
Out of ingrained habit, I drew my dagger, but my thoughts weren’t on the weapon or the danger. Curiosity drowned out my fear. I wanted to get a better look at this monster shrouded in legend. But standing before me was no monster. And truthfully, that didn’t disappoint me—if anything, it was the opposite, because I probably wasn’t ready to face a creature of “terrifying appearance” just yet.
He looked like an ordinary boy, betrayed only by his still-developing frame and the foolish expression on his handsome face, that daring glint in his eyes. It was then that I finally understood why their eyes evoked such shudders in the stories about wolfgars. Skiff had never managed to describe them clearly to me.
Darker than darkness, deep eyes, burning from within, now fading, now flaring, spilling over with a wild gleam. In those eyes reigned a night full of dangers and a living flame.
The young man sized me up with an appraising look and snorted arrogantly, baring sharp, healthy teeth:
“Know how to use that?” he nodded casually at the dagger, as if it were a flute or a cattle whip. But I, stunned, couldn’t muster a coherent response. What I do remember clearly is that in that moment, I was absolutely certain—this wolfgar was not my death.
“What, are you mute too? Unbelievable. I was wondering who was sneaking around!” He finished his sentence already behind me, though I hadn’t even noticed how he’d moved there. With swift ease, the wolfgar grabbed my hands, disarming me of the dagger, and in the next second, he was in front of me again, as if he could split himself in two. He seemed to enjoy this. The boy grinned again, shaking his head with satisfaction, his tousled chestnut hair bouncing. “Are you some kind of sacrifice to the wolfgars? Have the Crilanders started sending kids into the forest? Or are you just that foolish to wander alone in neutral woods so carelessly?” he mocked, not taking his eyes off me. “I’ll keep this! Nice dagger, not for girls. Now, speechless, scared little redhead, get back to where you came from before I change my mind!”
And just then, my voice returned! I managed to squeeze out a single question:
“What’s your name?”
The wolfgar smirked and shook his head, as if marveling at my stupidity, but he answered anyway:
“Alisher.”
Then, the boy tensed sharply and, for some reason, shrank back, and for the first time, fear scratched at my confidence.
“My father and brothers are coming this way, and you won’t like it if they find you here!” he said quickly. “Get out of here if you want to live! Can you run fast?”
In response, I only shook my head no. For a few seconds, he thought intently.
“That’s bad.”
Then, with lightning speed and effortless strength, the wolfgar hoisted me onto his shoulder like a sack of flour and ran. I could never run like he did. It was a trait of his kind. In mere minutes, we were at the edge of the forest, where my journey had begun.
“I don’t even know why I did this,” he muttered, casting me a dark, displeased look. “Now, as fast as you can, run back to your cursed fortress!”
Dazed and disoriented after such a rapid journey, I silently turned and obediently headed toward the settlement.
“Hey!” his voice called from behind. He was still standing in the same spot. “What do I call you, strange creature?”
“Tara,” I murmured softly, somehow stung by an offense I felt toward him.
“Listen, Tara, never leave your settlement again. The wild lands aren’t for you. Even meeting a well-fed wolfgar won’t save you. Next time, I won’t be such a kind idiot!” With that, he seemed to dissolve into thin air.