Bitter Magic

On his deathbed, father handed me his bow and arrow. “Go hunt yourself a wife.”

I shook my head.

He should’ve married a good village woman.

Instead, he pursued her.

A day after she gave birth to me, she stepped out of her shoes and ran into the forest.

Just like that.

Father said she belonged there, where she can be savage and free in all her hirsute and fiercely fanged glory.

I promised myself I’ll never be like him… ruined by his flirtations with other worlds.

I’ll never dream of magic, love…or she-bears that turn into bad mothers…