Wolf Starr

I think, looking back even after all this time, my favorite days were before we had moved. When the war seemed far away instead of on our doorstep. Though I do think childhood innocence did play a part of that too. The point is I loved our farm, and my mother. I had never met my father, and my mom was all I needed. I knew he was a full demon like my mother, had red skin, and strong hands. I got my red eyes, and enhanced strength from him. My black horns from my mother. I had a black tail too. That was a rare trait amongst demons. Nether of my parents had one. I loved it. I could carry things with it. It was an extension of my body language. And the spade on the end was sharp as a knife. My mother did ban me from using it during cooking though. Could still cut down wheat like no one else. We lived in a small old fashion village. There wasn't much in the way of technology here, but no one seemed to mind it. We walked or took a wagon where we needed to go. We lived on the outskirts of the village. So we had enough room for winding crops. There were a few trees; a small forest. The most interesting things to happen was a sighting of a wondering, large spider or wolf in the woods. As long as you didn't go out at night it was perfectly safe though. Our lamp lighters kept the village, and the surrounding area well lit. It was mostly populated by demons, the village was small, and the weather was good. It was home. Until the war got closer. The town over, the one my father had been from in fact, had been attacked. Burned to the ground. My mother took this as an omen. We needed to move, but there wasn't many places demons where safe anymore. Everyone knew we were losing the war. There was only two options. District 8. Who despite their open doors and best efforts were running out of space, and resources for refugees. Or... District 11. Most people didn't even know where it was. My mother did though. I don't if she had, had family from there once, or had simply heard about it, but she knew. So the outcome was the same. What was safer than a kingdom most didn't know the location of. Little news of it other than rumors. That people rarely left, or came too. I'm sure we were the first in a long time. I would have been six, but no matter how fuzzy my memories got a few things still stuck. The farm when we left. The sun high in the sky. The fields of wheat turning into gold dessert sand. My mother reading to me in the wagon. Books of fairy tales, and poems pilled high. Words given greater meaning. Displaying feelings in a way only they could. Then we got closer. The sun was high, and hot not a cloud in the sky. I could see a bird flying over head. It landed to where a whole flock them was devouring a carcass. Vultures ripping flesh apart.

"Don't look." My mother said, and I listened like always. She was trying to shield from gruesome things. This, the war. She could not do that forever. As the light shone down on a crimson, bricked kingdom. To this day I wonder if it was an animal they were eating.