Introduction
"Prometa-me que você vai sobreviver", eu olho para a besta novamente.
"Você vai me fazer cumprir minha palavra, não vai?"
O lobo se senta sobre as patas traseiras, inclina a cabeça para cima e solta um uivo longo e forte. O som vibra no chão sob mim e vai diretamente ao meu coração, acalmando as chamas. Fico chocado a princípio, depois sinto a energia raivosa saindo do meu corpo. Eu desabo na areia, os pequenos grãos cortam a pele seca dos meus joelhos, mas isso não me incomoda, essa dor não é nada comparada à que sinto no peito.
Estou tremendo, chorando, tentando segurar a raiva que me mantinha em pé, mas ela está escapando. O lobo circula ao meu redor algumas vezes e depois se posiciona ao meu lado, choraminga um pouco antes de me surpreender colocando sua cabeça colossal no meu colo.
***Quando a Deusa quer fazer seu filho feliz, ela não tem ideia de que suas ações resultarão em duas novas espécies e selarão o destino de uma garota.
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About Author

Maria McRill
Chapter 1
Sinto o calor do fogo enquanto minha mãe adiciona mais lenha para manter o ar úmido fora de nossa caverna, ondas de calor acariciando minhas bochechas.
Ela tem um brilho no rosto que eu nunca tinha visto antes, e posso ouvi-la respirando como se não tivesse conseguido respirar por muito tempo.
Lá fora, a chuva está caindo pela primeira vez desde que eu era criança, e todas as almas na caverna estavam relaxadas e em silêncio, agradecendo ao grande céu por sua generosidade.
Tem sido difícil; o sol tem sido furioso, e a terra sofreu muito.
A grama foi a primeira a morrer, o tapete verde macio substituído pelo marrom áspero que fazia seus pés doerem só de andar sobre ele.
Depois da grama, foram os arbustos e as árvores, todos esgotados e fechando, esperando... Os animais deixaram nossa terra, procurando comida ou sendo reivindicados pelo céu.
O lago no topo da nossa montanha ainda tem um pouco de água, mas os peixes já se foram há muito tempo.
Vivemos dos cultivos que conseguimos plantar, mas não é muito, e nosso povo está fraco, e muitos de nós estão doentes.
Olho para meu corpo; sou nada além de pele queimada pelo sol e osso. Meu peito faz barulho a cada respiração porque está se enchendo de terra seca há muito tempo. Meu cabelo comprido é a imagem cuspida da grama morta — seco, opaco e crocante ao toque.
Minha mãe vem e pega minha mão, puxando-me para a entrada da nossa caverna e para fora na chuva. A água me atinge, e eu ofego por ar, mas é a melhor sensação que já senti. As gotas duras fazem meus pequenos músculos tensos relaxarem e esfriam meu corpo quente. Sinto-as formigando sobre minha pele como um enxame de abelhas, e eu choro. Choro de alegria pela nossa terra, pelo nosso povo e pelos animais que estão voltando. Minhas lágrimas salgadas se misturam com o doce gosto da chuva na minha boca, e eu olho nos olhos da minha mãe, e suas emoções espelham as minhas. Estamos girando, dançando, chorando e rindo juntas. Minha respiração está ficando difícil, e eu tenho que desacelerar. Mãe coloca suas mãos em meus ombros, fazendo-me parar. Suas mãos viajam até meu rosto, afastando as longas mechas molhadas de cabelo do meu rosto. Ela beija meu nariz, minhas bochechas e meus lábios e encosta sua testa na minha. Sua oração é forte enquanto ela agradece ao Céu.
"Eu te agradeço, lindo céu, por me ouvir e responder. Eu te agradeço, lindo céu, pelo presente à terra. Eu te agradeço, lindo céu, pelo presente ao nosso povo, e eu te agradeço, lindo céu, pela vida da minha filha. Ela viverá, será forte e será tua serva."
Assim que a última palavra de sua oração saiu de seus lábios, minha força recém-encontrada me deixou. Minhas pernas desapareceram sob mim, e eu caí no chão. Meu peito está queimando, e cada respiração parece chamas lambendo meu interior. Eu me ajoelho e apoio as mãos no chão, tentando tossir o fogo para fora, e a cada tentativa, um pouco mais de ar entra. Respiro mais fundo e tusso mais forte, e então sinto; é como se o fogo estivesse ajudando a derreter a poeira em meus pulmões. Abro a boca e vomito. Muco cinza quente respinga em minhas mãos antes que a chuva o lave, e eu estou respirando novamente, realmente respirando, respirações profundas e limpas até o fundo dos meus pulmões. Sem fogo, sem dor, sem privação de oxigênio.
Olho para minha mãe; mesmo com a chuva caindo em seu rosto, posso ver que ela está chorando, mas são as lágrimas que seguem a sensação que você tem quando pensa que perdeu algo importante para sua vida apenas para encontrá-lo novamente. Lágrimas de alegria e alívio.
Ela me ajuda a levantar e me abraça, e eu ouço seus soluços felizes contra meu cabelo. Estamos girando e dançando novamente e logo somos acompanhados por vários outros da caverna. Crianças pulam nas poças, homens e mulheres se abraçam e se beijam. Eles coletam água em potes para levar para dentro da caverna, caso a chuva desapareça novamente.
Eu me deito e fecho os olhos, o cheiro e o tamborilar da chuva fora da caverna me embalando para dormir, e um sorriso se forma no meu rosto.
Estou quase lá, na terra de grama verde, animais e rios sem fim, quando meus olhos se abrem de repente com um vento frio lambendo meu rosto, deixando o gosto de cascalho molhado na minha língua. Vejo sombras se movendo na parede da caverna, rápidas demais para serem humanas, e então os gritos começam.
Vozes cheias de pânico, homens, mulheres e crianças tentando fugir das sombras que os caçam. Ruídos úmidos da carne sendo rasgada e o som gorgolejante de gargantas cheias de sangue.
Minha mãe corre até meu lado e cai de joelhos na minha frente.
"Escute-me, criança! Ele não vai te ver, mas pode te sentir. Você precisa ficar imóvel e esperar; não deixe que ele te pegue. Sobreviva! Você me escuta? Prometa-me que vai sobreviver! Tudo depende de você agora. Encontre o lobo e pegue o seu. É a única maneira de derrotá-lo."
Olhos dourados aparecem atrás da minha mãe. Ela o sente, mas em vez de lutar, gritar ou tentar escapar, ela mantém seus olhos fixos nos meus e lentamente inclina a cabeça para o lado, expondo seu pescoço. Os olhos dourados se aproximam, e eu posso ver o rosto ao qual pertencem. Um homem com os traços mais bonitos que já vi: seu cabelo castanho era curto e não tocava nem os ombros; sua pele era pálida, mas não doentia; ele tinha uma mandíbula forte e lábios vermelhos e cheios, e suas maçãs do rosto eram altas, mas a carne que as cobria era saudável, nunca conhecendo a fome. Seus olhos dourados eram emoldurados por cílios pesados e escuros sob um par de sobrancelhas grossas.
Eu quero sacudir minha mãe para fazê-la correr, mas estou congelada, minhas costas duras contra a parede de pedra atrás de mim. Estou hipnotizada pela beleza à minha frente.
Será que irritamos os céus novamente? Será que o céu enviou essa beleza para nos punir?
Tudo aconteceu como em câmera lenta, o rosto bonito perto do pescoço da minha mãe, lábios cheios se abrindo, e dentes afiados e longos afundando na carne dela.
Sugando, engolindo, sugando e engolindo, o som me lembrou da água que eu bebia do cantil quando criança. O brilho da minha mãe desaparece, uma única lágrima rola pela sua bochecha, e eu fecho os olhos.
Da próxima vez que meus olhos se abriram, o fogo na caverna já tinha se apagado há muito tempo, e o sol entrava pela abertura da caverna, orgulhoso de ter afastado a chuva. Fechei os olhos novamente, esperando que minha mãe acordasse logo para acender o fogo; eu nunca fui boa nisso. Tentei ouvir sons na caverna, mas fui recebido com um silêncio mortal. Sem mulheres acalentando seus bebês chorando, nenhum dos homens se movimentando antes de sair para trabalhar. Os únicos sons eram os meus. Então o cheiro me atingiu. O cheiro de sangue, intestinos e corpos mortos. As memórias me atingiram como um raio. Eu mal conseguia respirar; precisava sair. Tentando encontrar forças, começo a me mover de mãos e joelhos na direção da abertura.
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Nota do Autor: Obrigado por ler!
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Este é meu primeiro livro, e inglês não é minha língua nativa, então por favor deixe um comentário gentil apontando erros.
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Certifique-se de curtir o capítulo se você gostou!
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Comments

Visitante
A história da origem nesse livro, de um certo modo, quer dar uma resposta ào encantamento que os humanos, ou mais especificamente eu (mulheres) tenho pelos magníficos lobos.
11/23/2025 18:47
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About Author

Maria McRill
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