The Camp leader sighed as the shy girl retreated back, staring at the ground below. The Camp leader opened his mouth to chastise the rude boy when a tall, bronze skinned, skinny black-haired boy coughed.
“You know kid, vanity and pride is a terrible thing to posses,” he said to the rude boy.
“Whadd’ya talking about?”
The boy’s eyes grew dark. “My grandfather told me of an ancient legend among his grandfather’s tribe, one that warns young ones to behave the opposite of the way you act now.”
“So you have a scary story to tell?” the Camp leader said. He hushed a pair of talking campers. “Please do tell.”
The boy stared at the camp leader, a fearful look upon his face. “I must warn you, this is no campfire story… it is an old tale, a warning to the proud, the vain and the reckless…Long ago, in the time before the white man came to our land, there lived a small tribe. It was the tribe of the Lupe, or the wolf tribe. They were the strongest, fastest, and most skilled tribe. The men were all hunters and warriors, their skill and ferocity like that of a bear or a wolf. Their women were beautiful, smart and skilled. They were the best of the best—“This is boring!” a camper with large glasses groaned. He was in a slouched position but he quickly straightened his posture when the native boy flashed him a fierce glare. “Sorry”“As I was saying…”The people of the Lupe were the best of the best. However, they had one great flaw. They were proud, vain, arrogant, vengeful and untrustworthy. The other tribes loathed them because of this, openly attacking their kin. In turn, the Lupe attacked all other tribes that ventured into their territory. My uncle was an Iroquois hunter. The Lupe, who bounded him and brought him to their camp, caught him one day when he was hunting. They ridiculed my uncle, throwing stones and spitting on him. The one day, he made a strange ally, an old man with strange, glowing yellow eyes. They bounded this old man as well, throwing sticks and spitting on him. However, the old man—
“Can I please tell ma’ story!” another boy complained.
The storyteller growled, whipping a stone in his direction. It caught the boy dead in the eye, causing him to rub it in pain.
“No more interruptions!” the native boy snapped. The camp leader flashed him a strange look but nodded, beckoning him to continue.
The old man insulted the wife of the Lupe chief. As his punishment, the Lupe chief burned out the old man’s eyes broke his legs and scalped his forehead. They thrust the old man into the fire, where he suffered a long and excruciatingly painful death. However, he gazed at my uncle—
“That hunter was your uncle?” a young girl with ponytails questioned.
The boy rubbed his forehead. “No, he was my grandfather’s, grandfather’s uncle.” The girl gave him a blank look. “Let’s just refer to him as my ancestor okay?”
The little girl nodded before crossing her arms.
“Now, where was I…”
The old man gazed at my unc— ancestor and smiled. His smile was like the grin of a wolf that had found a wounded prey. It was the very smile of evil spirits. My ancestor stared back at him, a look of pure fear across his face. Then, as he was burning, the old man began to speak to my father in the native tongue. “ The Lupe have grown proud and arrogant! They have forgotten all my warning to them. They have given in to the evil spirits, allowing them to twist their souls. Well no more! Tonight, when the great moon can be seen over the lake, the Lupe shall be slain! They have turned their backs on m, thus I turn my backs on them. Let the savage wolves of the north enjoy their feast on Lupe flesh! No man, woman or child shall live to see the next sun, lest they be of a different tribe!” Then the old man grew still, his body making cracking sounds as he burned.
“Then wadd’ appened?” the rude boy asked.
The native boy stared at him, his eyes like daggers piercing into the boy. “Do you really want to know?”
The boy nodded.
My ancestor had fallen asleep when he heard a bone-chilling howl. He sprung awake and gazed at the forest itself, which had seemed to come alive. My ancestor watched in horror as hundreds of shadow furred wolves swarmed into the camp. They leaped and ripped through the many tents, blood-curdling screams of horror abound. My uncle hid under a large wagon, watching as the wolves began to drag off the Lupe women and children. Blood was everywhere as the men tried to fight the wolves. But they were no match, each man being taken down and ripped to a bloody bone as the wolves swarmed around them, devouring and killing. Their bright yellow eyes shone with a demonic fury as they pounced on the Lupe, blood staining their nuzzles. Suddenly the largest wolf appeared, carrying the motionless corpse of the Lupe chief into the fire. The wolf let out an eerie howl, causing a cacophony of eerie, spine tingling howls. My ancestor continued to stare at the wolves, who one by one retreated into the forest, carrying off the bloody bodies of the Lupe tribe…
The camper’s stared in awe at the native boy who sat back on the log. “That is my tale, the death of the proud and arrogant Lupe tribe.”
One camper shrugged. “It wasn’t that scary.”
The bronze skinned native smiled at him, his teeth looking like wolfish fangs. “They say the old man, the northern wolf spirit still haunts the very resting place of the Lupe, his ever voracious wolves still scouring the landscape for the proud and arrogant, be they Lupe or not. The Lupe spirits and the spirits of the proud still trying to escape, their blood curdling screams can be heard when one is deep in the forest form which they were devoured in, desperately trying to escape the wolf man and his pack.
“And what forest would that be?” the boy with glasses questioned.
A single wolf howl pierced the night, followed by a far off scream…