Alone in their dark woods, the Vargamor or Wolf-crones seek to avoid prying eyes. “Best not go in them woods,” the barkeep warned the traveler. “Young’en those that go in don’t always come out,” he added.
Gretchen’s parents died when she was a baby—the Vicar’s attempts to find the baby a home failed. No one wanted an unfortunate child.
With no choice, the Vicar sought out Ingrid, who lived deep in the dark woods. Some feared the old woman for her ability to live among the Lupus and called her wolf-crone.
Gretchen took to her new mother, and many suspected the crone had bewitched the child. Truth be told, Ingrid had raised her brother’s children when he died in the Tsar’s war. She was a natural mother.
“What a lovely lass you are. I’ll not let those townies hurt you for nothing,” she whispered to her new charge.
Gretchen grew fast and strong. Soon, the child was out roaming the forest without a care.
One day, a wolf approached. Gretchen showed no fear and instead talked to the beast in a manner that calmed him. Gretchen had the wolf on its back in no time, scratching its belly like some lap dog.
Ingrid showed her the wolf clan’s secret ways. Wherever the girl roamed, frolicking wolves surrounded her.
A local man was hunting deer when he spotted the group and hurried back to the village. He informed them that there was a Vargamor in the woods.
The village old ones laughed at the man for his ignorance. “That Vargamor is Gretchen, and she is more home with those wolves than humans.”
When Ingrid passed, Gretchen remained to care for her friends. She offered roots and herbs to the local wise women in exchange for bread and cheese.
When the plague came, Gretchen would bring food and comfort to those affected. She arrived with two or three wolves who stood guard, keeping the curious at bay.
When the church started burning witches, they avoided Gretchen. Not because of the wolves, mind you. The villagers made sure the Pope, myself, would need to come and claim their sainted Vargamor.
Gretchen rests easy now in her elder years. The pack now brings meat, and the wise woman brings bread and cheese once weekly.
The women sit and sip tea. They reminisce about Gretchen’s childhood and recall how an orphaned baby grew to save a village from the Black Death.
Ingrid had taught Gretchen the ways of healing and friendship, which she carried in her heart all her remaining days.
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