Carol F. McKibben
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Riding Through It

There's an expression that horse trainers use whenever a client's ride becomes difficult - "Keep riding through it." I've heard it at least a hundred times while riding my horse. It's a function of good horsemanship. If you give up or get off in the midst of difficulties, you might win the battle that day but lose the war in the long run. Learning to be really good at something takes persistence and time. Such it is with life; so it is with writing.

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Werewolf Legends as Told by Kane and Zandra

6/3/2019

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I’ve been asked to write an article about werewolf legends, but I thought it might be better to have the daughter of the original werewolf to separate fact from fiction instead. Her name is Zandra Moretti, and this is the story behind werewolves. Just in case you were wondering, this is an excerpt from Moon Blood, Book 2 that I’ve authored. Zandra discusses the werewolf lore with Kane de Medici, the first blood son of the original vampire, Brogio. The narrator is Moon Blood, Kane’s hybrid kindred wolf. 
*****
Zandra called out, “Don’t you want to know why I am following you?”

Kane turned and kept walking backward. “Yes, but you can tell me in the house with a glass of wine.” Turning back, he marched on, and I followed as did Zandra.

Entering the house, Kane opened the door wide behind him. Strolling to a black velvet robe lying across the overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace, he grabbed it and held it out to Zandra who shut the door behind her.

Padding over to him, she accepted the robe, wrapping herself into it.

James mysteriously arrived with a second robe which he placed around our master’s shoulders while Kane poured two glasses of wine. Handing Zandra one, he struggled into the robe, leaving it partially open as he sat and motioned his companion to do the same.

I curled up in a plush purple velvet bed that James installed next to the fire earlier.

The silence made me impatient. Ask her why she’s here.

In good time, Moon.


As if reading my thoughts, Zandra blurted out, “I know about your troubles with the other shifters.”

“How?”

“Through my own network of shifters. We are different.”

“Different how?”

“I am rouge. I want nothing to do with the packs that run the rest of the world.”
​

“Why?”
Picture
​Zandra sipped her wine. She closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. “Have you read Ovid’s Metamorphoses? It was written in 8 A.D.”

“Of course.”

“Then, you are familiar with the tale of King Lycaon?”

“Yes. It’s the origin of the word ‘lycanthrope.’ As I recall, Lycaon offended the gods by serving human flesh to them at dinner. Jupiter or Zeus, depending upon who’s telling the story, punished Lycaon by transforming him into a werewolf.” Kane stood and walked to the bar for another glass of wine.

“Yes,” Zandra continued. “In his werewolf form, he could continue his abomination of eating human flesh with less offense.”

“And this has to do with your knowing my situation and following me, how?”

“Like your sire, Brogio, I was cursed by the gods. I am a direct descendant of Lycaon and part of the original werewolf line. I am not controlled by the moon and can change shape at whim, as can all current-day shifters. The difference is that, like Brogio, I have no wish to harm others for selfish gain or otherwise.” She stopped, drew in a deep breath, and let it out. “My affliction is not of my doing. I was born to it.”

Kane sat in silence, watching her face, with his eyes peering into hers as if he could read her mind.

“I am reaching out to you to offer my help in fighting those of my kind who would bring harm to yours or any other.”

Kane’s stare could have bored a hole in her. “Why?”

“I didn’t ask for this curse, but I’ll be damned if I’ll sit by and let others use it to destroy others—human or vampire.”

I sat up and looked at my master. Do you believe her?

Not yet, but I want to.

You know what happened with the last female you lusted after.
​

Zandra Moretti intrigued my master. He obviously wanted to possess her flesh, but she had descended from a legend… his eternal quest for knowledge made her the subject of learning for him.
Picture
They sat through the night in conversation. Kane asked question after question about the nature of werewolves. He spat out his questions like the bullets in a machine gun, never giving her a moment to respond. “Can all werewolves be killed by a silver bullet? The first sighting of a werewolf was in 1214; is that correct? A Viking legend says two men became werewolves by putting on two spellbound wolf pelts they found. Is that true? In South America, the Luison is the seventh son of a family of all boys who transforms into a wolf on the night of a full moon. Luisons were said to be horrendously deformed. True? Other legends say, for instance in Mexico, that werewolfism or nagualism are guardian spirits that reside in an animal and transform to cause harm. Some think magicians can change their physical form into a nahuali, meaning disguise. Do any of these legends have any bearing?”

I grew weary of his questions as Zandra must have. Once Kane stopped firing questions at her, Zandra simply said “no.”

“None of them?”

She shook her head to the negative. “The legend of Lycaon is the true origin of our species. But, just as your kind has rippers, we have our own line of ill-begottens who spread throughout the world.”
 
Want to learn more about these modern-day shifters?  The Moon Blood Series is full of them.
 Visit: http://www.carolmckibben.com.

Til Next Time,
​Carol

​
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