In a land full of mystical creatures there are many greater things to fear. However personal experience and wounds that don’t fully heal can make the even regular encounters traumatic. Wolves.

As a young girl Kalliope was side saddled riding through the forest with her father when they were suddenly ambushed by a starving pack of wolves. Her father calm and collected shushed Kalliope and she stayed deathly still. In the subtle snap of a finger her fathers horse, King, whipped around 180 degrees and began to gallop at full pace. Just as quick as the snap of the fingers many things happened at once the encircling wolves pounced with two coming from the sides and one from the back as King spun. One was knocked back in the direction King spun, the second firmly sunk his fangs into Longs rear, and the third attempting to claw at King’s hind leg tore off a portion of Kalliope’s calf to her ankle.

Darting through the woods now with one large wolf attached to King there was no time for pain-no time to pause and tend to wounds. Kalliope began beating the wolf on the head with her pack as her father directed King’s dexterous weaving through the trees.

The wolf fell hard and rolled back into the dirt but as it was falling its grimacing face locked eyes with Kalliope and without words the look said “next time”.

Once back safe at home Father tended to Kalliope and King. King who never was as fast after that day more or less made a full recovery, but Kalliope, although physically completely healed save a scar, could not mentally overcome the obstacle of fear the wolf and its menacing gaze instilled in her soul.

Whether the scar remained or not she carried the emotional scar of the event into her young adulthood and feared the wolves of the forest much more than any of the mystical creatures that resided there.