The Wolf Sacrifice by Rosa Steel Page B

would be dead soon, Dasha would be worried about them dying and
falling off. She didn’t look down, in case the site of them frozen
and purple made her lose her nerve. Still she kept staggering on up
the mountain, huddled inside the sheepskin cloak that she’d been
allowed and wracked with shivers.
    Somewhere close the eerie keening of a wolf
howl rose up, and was joined by two others. Now her shivering was
not just from cold. She stared with wide green eyes into every
shadow that she passed, hoping desperately that these were the Gods
and not natural wolves that might kill her before she completed her
mission.
    Her world was pain and fear. The moon grew
high and bright, throwing a soft silver light over the world. Dasha
struggled, and she fell many times. Soon she was covered in small
cuts, and tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks. Sometimes she saw
a grey shadow flit between the trees, and a sharp flash of golden
eyes.
    She kept climbing in silence, listening to
the howls.
     
     
    And then she was at the top. She waited for a
second between the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the Gods
before they saw her. But… there was no-one there. The plateau and
the altar to the Wolf Gods were empty, bathed in the brilliant
light of the full moon. At first she sat down, startled, and
thought about this. Was it the wrong night? No, the elders did not
make mistakes like that, and the moon was full. Dasha snarled. A
hot rage welled up in her belly, stronger than she’d known she was
capable of. Fueled by her pain it boiled inside her. I came all
this way, and they’re not even here!
    “Where are you, wolves?” She screamed into
the night.
    “Where are you? I am Dasha, your Queen! I
dare you to kill me! I dare you! I am your sacrifice!”
    There was no answer but the wind. Dasha tore
off the skin cloak around her shoulders and stood naked in the
snow, staring around her at the lonely rocks and digging her nails
into her own palms. She cursed the empty rocks, and the fat moon in
the sky. There was a stone plinth, like a kind of wide table, and
she climbed up onto it and stood there, breathing hard.
    “Take me, Wolf Gods!” She screamed again.
    A howl answered her – shockingly close. What
she had thought was a boulder opened lambent golden eyes, and
stretched, slowly. The wolf chuckled, a sound closer to a growl
than a human laugh.
    “She is loud enough to be the Wolf Queen,”
said the wolf. It stood, shaking snow from its coat and baring
brilliant rows of white teeth in a fierce grin. It was far bigger
than a normal wolf - the size of a horse - and even its breathing
was hard and loud like a smith’s bellows. Even though she was on
the plinth, the wolf looked down on her. Dasha’s eyes went wide,
but she managed not to cower. I will meet my death
proudly.
    “I am –“ she began.
    “Dasha. Yes, I know.” The wolf was laughing
again, and showed no inclination to start eating her. “I am Fyor of
Winter.”
    “I am Raka,” said a higher, snarling voice.
The second Wolf God skittered down from where had perched on a high
peak. This one was more slender than the first, and not quite as
tall. Still his eyes were quick and bright, and he had a wilder
look, like he was listened to messages on the wind. Raka raced to
stand next to the first, but seemed not to be content with standing
still and prowled around the platform where she stood. It was
difficult not to shrink away when that bright-eyed hulk came
close.
    “I believe you already know Volk.” Fyor
said.
    “You spoil my surprise, as always,” said a
wry voice somewhere behind her. It was deep and masculine, but also
very human. She turned. The young man with the bear-pelt cloak
stepped out of the shadows. Dasha could not contain a small gasp of
surprise, and the young man laughed at that, not unkindly. His eyes
were brilliant gold in the dark as he took in the moonlit curves of
her young body. Suddenly he averted his eyes, as if realizing what
he was