Origins

I can feel the heat from the fire as my mother adding more firewood to keep the moist air out of our cave, waves of warmth caressing my cheeks.

She has a glow on her face I have never seen before, and I can hear her drawing breath as if she hasn’t been able to breathe in a long time.

Outside, the rain is pouring for the first time since I was a child, and every soul in the cave was relaxed and in silence, thanking the big heaven for its generosity.

It’s been hard; the sun has been furious, and the land has suffered greatly.

The grass died first, the green soft carpet replaced by the brown rough one that made your feet ache just by walking on it.

After the grass it was the bushes and the trees, all run out of their supply and shutting down, waiting… Animals left our land either looking for food or being claimed by the heaven.

The lake on the top of our mountain still has some water, but the fish is long gone.

We live off the crops we manage to grow, but it is not much, and our people are weak, and many of us are sick.

I look down at my body; I am nothing but sunburnt skin and bone. My chest rustles with every breath because it’s been filling up with the dry dirt of the land for so long. My long hair is a spitting image of the dead grass—dry, dull, and crispy to the touch.

My mother comes and takes my hand, tugging me to the entrance of our cave and out in the rain. The water hits me, and I gasp for air, but it’s the best feeling I’ve ever felt. The hard drops make my small tense muscles relax and cool my warm body. I feel them tingling over my skin like a hive of bees, and I cry. I cry of joy for our land, for our people, and for the animals returning. My salty tears mix with the sweet taste of rain in my mouth, and I look into my mother’s eyes, and her emotions mirror my own. We are spinning, dancing, crying, and laughing together. My breathing is getting hard, and I have to slow down. Mother puts her hands on my shoulders, making me stop. Her hands travel up my face, pushing the long wet strands of my hair away from my face. She kisses my nose, my cheeks, and my lips and leans her forehead against mine. Her prayer is strong as she thanks the Heaven.

“I thank you, beautiful heaven, for hearing and answering me. I thank you, beautiful heaven, for your gift to the land. I thank you, beautiful heaven, for your gift to our people, and I thank you, beautiful heaven, for the life of my daughter. She will live, she will be strong, and she will be your servant.”

As soon as the last word of her prayer left her lips, my newfound strength left me. My legs disappeared under me, and I fell to the ground. My chest is burning, and every breath feels like flames licking my insides. I take to my knees and hands, trying to cough the fire away, and with every attempt, a little more air goes in. I take deeper breaths and cough harder, and then I feel it; it’s like the fire is helping to melt the dust in my lungs away. I open my mouth, and I vomit. Grey hot mucus splashes on my hands before the rain rinses it away, and I am breathing again, really breathing, deep clean breaths to the bottom of my lungs. No fire, no pain, no deprivation of oxygen.

I look up at my mother; even though the rain is pouring down her face, I can see she is crying, but it’s the tears that follow the feeling you have when you think you lost something important to your life only to find it again. The tears of joy and relief.

She helps me to my feet and into her arms, and I hear her happy sobs against my hair. We are spinning and dancing again and are soon joined by several others from the cave. Children jump in the puddles, and men and women hug and kiss each other. They gather water in pots to bring into the cave in case the rain disappears again.

I lie back and close my eyes, the smell and the drumming of the rain outside the cave lulling me to sleep, and a smile forms on my face.

I’m almost there, in the land of green grass, animals and rivers that have no end when my eyes flung open to a cold wind licking my face, leaving the taste of wet gravel

on my tongue. I see shadows moving on the cave wall, too fast to be human, and then the screams begin.

Voices filled with panic, men, women, and children trying to get away from the shadows hunting them down. Wet noises from the tearing of flesh and the gurgling sound of blood-filled throats.

My mother runs to my side and drops to her knees in front of me.

“Listen to me, child! He won’t see you, but he can feel you. You need to stay still and wait; don't let him catch you. Survive! Do you hear me? Promise me you'll survive! It’s all on you now. Find the wolf and get your own. It’s the only way to defeat him.”

Golden eyes appear behind my mother. She feels him, but instead of fighting, screaming, or trying to escape, she has her eyes locked with mine and slowly tilts her head to the side, baring her neck. The golden eyes come closer, and I can see the face they belong to. A male with the most beautiful features I have ever seen: his brown hair was short and didn’t even touch his shoulders; his skin was pale but not sickly; he had a strong jawline and full red lips, and his cheekbones were high, but the flesh covering them was healthy from never knowing hunger. His gold eyes were framed by heavy dark lashes under a pair of thick brows.

I want to slap my mother out of it, make her run, but I am frozen, my back hard against the stone wall behind me. I am mesmerized by the beauty in front of me.

Did we anger the heavens again? Did heaven send this beauty to punish us?

Everything happened like in slow motion, the beautiful face close to my mother’s neck, full lips parted, and sharp, long teeth sinking into my mother’s flesh.

Sucking, swallowing, sucking, and swallowing, the sound reminded me of the water I drank from the bota bag as a child. My mother’s glow fades, a single tear rolls down her cheek, and I close my eyes.

The next time my eyes opened, the fire in the cave was long gone, and the sun streamed through the cave opening, proud of chasing the rain away. I closed my eyes again, hoping my mother would soon wake up to build the fire; I was never any good at it. I tried to listen for sounds in the cave but was greeted with dead silence. No women cooing their crying babies, none of the men ruffling around before going out to work. The only sounds were my own. Then the smell hit me. The smell of blood, intestines, and dead bodies. The memories struck me like lightning. I could hardly breathe; I needed to get out. Trying to find the strength, I start on my hands and knees in the opening’s direction.

• Author Note: Thank you for reading!

• This is my first book, and English is not my native language, so please leave a kind comment to point out mistakes.

• Make sure to like the chapter if you enjoyed it!