Wolves whine too

A true story about my daughter, who was taken away from me, thanks to corruption, revenge (for refusing to be molested) and heartless people...

This is a story for a ghost, who slowly, with every step, picks up the pieces of the past, and turns them into wind... or spider webs, so they never become memories. Human soul is valued by the memories it holds. How can a ghost, that steals them, be chased away? How do you give back dignity to a human, or give back a lost part of his life?

In the arms of the ancient trees

I live for such a long time among the trees. They're my home and protection from everyone that want to hurt me. They cannot see me, if I don't unwrap the leafy vines from my legs, around my body, and if I don't leave my roots back. They cannot miss me if they came to destroy that root of life, that there's left in this forest. Nobody should leave the own roots behind, I know that now.

Tala was a female wolf, ancient, silent, wise - the best at sneaking. She had the light step of a young girl, and nobody ever knew how many centuries she is carrying on her back. Her soul split up and multiplied by the souls of the humans, who got her name. Tala can be only a woman, unaware of anything but the pray she is following. Aware of everything, while she makes soundless steps through the forest. Tala - that name some gave to me too. On a gray morning, so totally undeserved chosen day, for such a great cause : to give such a strong name to a girl.

I wasn't hunting to eat, just for revenge.
I stained her name from the very start. Also those, who wanted me to get that name, to carry it among my long hair strands and in the shadows of my steps, have put a stain to that name.

They wanted to cleanse my heart with it: from rage, from pain, from bitterness, from bitter pain that raged in me and all other combinations of emotional tortures, of the one that is about to die.
Tala could whisper, and I was screaming!
The very day, as they gave me that name, they tried to revive me. Shamans live eternally... Through their stories, through their words. They have been sent for unknown times onto the warm Earth as sacrifice to the Mother, like a drop of blood that should moist her and feed the hunger of the goddess. Shamans know what we cannot see and they know the right reasons. So he also knew why, together with a kiss, he gave me her name and a piece of her soul.

Knives hurt

Navel cord should never be cut with a knife. The knife hurts and the wound bleeds for a long time. The navel is cut with hot fingers, glowing-hot - hot enough to never spill the valuable blood that ties them - the mother wolf and the baby. The naval cord should be bitten and cut by the young female wolf-cub, when she's strong enough to take care of herself.
With a knife only more blood will be called upon - it calls for revenge, which isn't the wisest thing to do in pack of wolves - but somebody thought that he might be smarter then the nature itself.
The nature recognized him and gave him chaotic mind, so he can never abuse it without being caught.
That's how they cut us apart. They took her off my breast, from my insides and left me bleed to death. It was snowing, it should end fast, the beasts would eat my leftovers before anyone ever sees the grotesque glowing red stain in the snow.
But there were no other beasts, beside them.

Nobody touches the mother! The animals feed the injured mother, they stick herbs to her wounds and bring fresh water among the own fur if they don't have hands. Injured mother is the well of all the force, that might make Earth turn backwards. The beasts don't know that, beasts take a knife and think that they have the right to destroy.
I can feel her scent. I catch it in the hints of the breezes and I know that she rose her head up high, with her nostrils she breaths in the spring - to warm her soul, and checks out if Tala is still alive. Deep in her genes it's written that mother wolf can never die, and she knows that.

The scream of the Mother

"She loved herself so much, and from that immense love to self she gave birth to the whole world and everything in it. Man and woman - it's her - split into two loves. Giving birth is sacred and what has been born should never be hurt or killed - the biggest crime is stealing of life!"
-wise men about mother Earth

The day as they torn her off me, the scream of the Mother made the Sun shake.
The beasts haven't been born, they stole the cracked leftovers of people's lives, so they can call themselves "humans", but walk on surface of the Earth without spark in their eyes nor a face that has living emotions, so they can steal more lives.
The Mother is trying to shake them off her molested body, but sometimes they hold onto it with their poisonous suckers and laugh out of evil. Their stinky breath brings diseases to her wounds, and in the moment, when they believe that they finally won, won over life, she stands up, bigger and stronger then ever before, and destroys them in the wink of an eye.
The Mother protects all her children, the Mother whispered the shaman the name he should give to me.

The wolves whine too...

I was laying in the snow, unable to even move a finger.

Heavy feet were disappearing in the whiteness, because my eyes weren't able to hold them in their embrace anymore.
The death is nothing but illusion. It can just bite close to the body, with its hungry jaws, but what has been taken away doesn't allow that the death bites her mother. She chased it away from me!
I stood up! Half dead and without a single drop of blood in me. Through my body flew something else now.
I didn't hear the own steps anymore. The scents were too real and sneaked into my lungs violently all by themselves. She (the little wolf) was in every single scent!

I remember, he put his lips on my forehead and said:
-"I name you Tala, rise now and greet thy Mother and the Father. You cannot die! Rescue your child and drive fear into rotten bones of the beasts, and execute with the same knife, which stole your child. Do only good and help and heal everyone on your way, like you have been healed. May your child heal your wounds when you save her at the end."

I whined, aware of the battle that was awaiting me. Numb from the pain and too alive from the wish to close her in my arms again.
Still the trees are standing proudly. A mother wolf steps through the dry leafage without a single sound, like the ghost, that once sneaked toward her. The forest is hiding her, with the branches, with leaves, with the giggling of the ferns... But this time she is behind his back, and he - he enjoys the laughter of victory, but unknowing of how close she is, how silent she moves - not aware of the name that was given to her...

The End

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