Trinity of the Werewolves

by Janie Hofmann


Song of Frit

Talon, do not wake me this night when the last quarter of the moon shines. Go with another tonight, Talon; sink your hungry ivory fangs into the vapid waifs who sit on the lord of the manor’s knee. If you come to my door and beckon with your tongue I will not run the hills with you.

They finished me, my love. A fortnight ago they cut off my ears. My white ears, the ones you loved so, are nailed to the lord of the manor’s door. Talon, I will never be wolf again. The nights we sucked the same cold air and huddled in the grottoes shall be no more. I am condemned to spend the rest of my days as a dirty mortal slicing potatoes and building fires for the mistress.

When all have gone to bed and the lord’s son has ceased his reedy howls, I press my face to the windows, pretend they are soft cool streams, remember the musky sweetness as you entered me. Forgive me the offspring I shall never whelp for you. I taste your oily coat in all my dreams. May all the ancestors be with you.

Revenge of Talon

Frit, it is the birthday of the lord of the manor’s son and I gave their hog five live spiders to eat, slaughtered and dressed it, went to their door. I tore one of your ears from its nail, stuck it in the mouth of the dead beast. I knocked, and the lord himself answered and took the beast, thanking me for my trouble. Frit, say your chants tonight and kneel before the fire. All the ancestors are with you.

After the Feast

In the early dawn of the lord of the manor’s house, after the feast, the lord’s son awakened his mother. She lit a candle, screamed and the lord and his footman arrived to see the mistress throw herself out the window.

The lord ordered his sentry to bring Frit, but they only found her charred apron. For years after, the lord searched the hills for Frit, returning each day to his motherless son. The boy would crawl onto his lap, but the bitter old lord would push him away. The boy looked so much like his mother, except for his large, white furred ear; and all the ancestors were with him.


Copyright © 2008 by Janie Hofmann

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