The Legend of the Wolf Witch

They say that the winners are the ones who write history. We know better than anyone that, that’s not always true. They say the Wolf Witch was a villain. That she began a war with the Dark Moon Pack. That she only used her gift to shape-shift into a wolf to deceive, and betray. They say she killed them all in cold blood, all except one. An Omega, she let live to tell of the horrors he’d seen. To barely survive the horror of it all. That is not our story. We tell the tale like this. Our Coven Queen, the great Wolf Witch used her gift for magic, skills in fighting, cunning, and violence to rule over us with care. She was an unpredictable woman, but loved all in her care. She could be loyal, and kind. Then the Alpha of the Dark Moon pack called her a liar, a deceiver, a danger due not to her unique power, but how she welded it. Like a dagger. Like a thing to hold above others, and threaten with if it suited her. But no ruler is perfect. He had no right to do what he did. We call it the Wolf Coven Massacre. No one speaks of the thirteen witches that died that night. Many of whom had been our Queen’s dearest friends, or the children. She had been pushed into a corner like a caged wolf. She had to fight back. You see the Alpha had declared war, and were planning to invade for one reason. To kill her, and anyone that got in their way. So she attacked first. The Alpha’s pack only consisted of himself, and his Beta’s, his soldiers. We had to kill them all one by one. The hate they looked at us with. The way they fought. The way they kept fighting. It was horrific. They wouldn’t have stopped until we all were dead, or they were. We stopped at one though. Where he saw a solider. Our Queen saw a child. A sixteen year old omega. She let him live. The pup. Unlike his Alpha. She couldn’t bare to kill a child, especially after she had lost her apprentice in the massacre. She showed him kindness. Mercy, and he repaid her by slitting her throat in the night while she slept. We caught him. He pled guilty. Crying as he did so, as if the weight of what he’d done just hit him. We fallowed our Queen’s example. We let him live. But there is no crueler punishment we know for a wolf, than to be locked in a cage.