The Wifwolf Queen

Dear Editor,

We have all, I'm sure, heard a story of a werewolf - Little Red Riding Hood, King Lycaon, the Beast of Gévaudan. Stories where a man transforms into a monster and terrorises quaint European villages. This is the narrow representation of a diverse community. Lets go back, do you know where the term 'werewolf' comes from? In Old English, 'wereman' is another term for a male human, 'wifman' is a female human. To recap: were = male, wif = female, and the 'man' part just refers to the race. So, in Old English, werewolf means 'MALE wolf', not just 'wolf person', really emblematic of your ignorance regarding all the fearsome females and wolf mothers who raised your monsters. Every one of the stories are about violent, uncontrollable male wolves. Even in that ridiculous book about the vampire loving human, the wolves are all male except for one infertile female - what's that about? You can't be strong, scary, AND able to give birth? I find it very sad that author never had a bloodthirsty maternal role model.

The ignorance doesn't even end there, oh no! The mythology tells how new werewolves are created from a bite - the audacity! Here's a free biology lesson, my dear: to create new life, the womb-bearer of a species carries, protects, feeds, and painfully births a new being. It's not like a dog can just waltz up to a cat, bite it, and watch it magically transform into a puppy! These are entirely different creatures who can't make babies together. Technically, I admit, we actually can make babies with humans the natural way - but it's not a popular choice among wolves. A case that's famous among us is the perverse young wolf who copulated with Elizabeth of York and created Henry XIII - that didn't turn out too well! More angry, hairy, sterile men are damaging to our already bad reputation. And don't even get me started on the disturbing 'alpha wolf' manosphere fantasy.

Speaking of reputation, my people have been hunted for centuries just because some have the urge to shred humans on the odd occasion. It seems unfair - humans shred each other constantly and get away with it, as long as they are on the winning side or have lots of money. No one takes revenge on all humanity because of it. Mostly, we are content to live near the forests, integrating into human society when we feel like it, and going primal in the deep wilderness when we don't. Some of us have adapted to live among the snowy peaks, although they are often mistaken for man-bears by the racist morons who live there. We occasionally travel - I even made it to the New World once, back in the 1960s, but it was an awful experience. A human caught me on camera unprepared, followed my footprints, and then spread some nasty rumours. My feet are an average size for a wolf!

I digress. While I am looking for some more ferocious female inclusion in media, I will not be sharing my own story. Instead, here is the story of the Wifwolf Queen. I am hoping this letter is published widely and we can straighten the record on the existence and disposition of female wolves.

Best,

Liane

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The Wifwolf Queen

Once upon a time, a silver haired, black eyed queen ruled over the tundra to the north. She was well adapted to the winter, able to survive freezing temperatures with limited protection, and had stamina that would rival any of her soldiers. She was admired by her people for her cunning ruthlessness in protecting their borders from invasion, and for a long time she maintained a safe, prosperous kingdom. The queen also had personal ambitions and a maternal heart, she desired a child to protect, teach, and fight for. She searched for a mate for many years before she finally found one. Wolves are rare but passionate, and together they created a strong, healthy daughter.

As the child grew, the people of the kingdom became restless. Their decades of safety had naturally led to prosperity, and prosperity to greed. The queen defended her borders too effectively, which slowed the passage of foreign goods into the kingdom. Her nobles desired fine textiles from the east, her peasants desired herbs and spices from the south, and her academics desired higher quality paper from the west. With the loud voice of the people on their side, her council demanded that the border security be relaxed, allowing more traders in with their wares and curios from far away lands. The queen, though reluctant, was unable to fight the people and allowed the changes to be made. Unfortunately, within a year, the kingdom had been besieged on three borders.

The border to the west abutted a naval kingdom, comprised of many forested islands. Their strength was greatest, as their ships were famed for their speed and weaponry. As soon as news of a budding war to the west reached her city, the queen departed with the majority of her standing army to the front lines. There, standing on the foggy shore of her territory, she called to the messenger boat carrying the rival king. He stood confidently on the prow, golden crown on his head, maintaining a safe distance from the treacherous rocks projecting from the seabed along the coast.

"King! Why are you besieging us? Our trade agreements are fair, you provide wood to pulp for our paper, and in return we provide the metal you use in the nails for your ships and your crafty innovations," she said. "You will not find us a weak target, so what has motivated this foolishness?"

The king did not like being called a fool, but could not fault her argument. Indeed, though his kingdom had naval prowess, his army had not managed to penetrate into the tundra in any of their skirmishes. Now that the queen was here, however, he could capture her and force her kingdom to relent.

"My inventors require more and more metal to craft. Our economy relies on it, and when you opened the other borders, we received less of your metals as the south and the east diluted our supply. We attack tomorrow, unless you guarantee that all of your metals come directly to the west." He paused, but he did not expect her agreement and the boat swiftly turned and moved back to the fleet.

The queen pondered on the dilemma as she walked through the war camp. She had spent a lifetime in battlefield camps and knew them well, particularly the critical structures. A plan started formulating in her mind, and she turned and walked directly for the smithy.

At dawn, as the mists rose over the coast, her army finished it's preparations and retreated, anticipating the attack. They watched as the masts of the enemy ships emerged above the perpetual fog, approaching quickly. The creak and splash of the ships and the shouts of the enemy echoed across the tundra. The soldiers stood tense and ready in the eddying mists.

Suddenly the air was filled with the sounds of wood shattering and men screaming. Overnight, the queens army had moved their critical structures and forges north of the existing camp. The enemy, planning on landing in a safe harbour among the rocks, had been using the tall buildings and bright forges of the camp as a beacon to determine the harbours location. The safe landing spot where the enemy was attempting to berth had seemingly moved overnight, and half of the force instead smashed against the rocky shore.

"Attack!" The queen cried.

She and her soldiers sprinted forwards, slashing at anyone who managed to land at the safe harbour or crawl out of the wreckages. The rocky shore foamed red. Scrambling at the deaths of so many solders, the enemy lost quickly to the ruthless defenders. Their fleet halved and warriors decimated. The queen triumphantly treated with the defeated king, pleased to negotiate a more beneficial trade agreement - the amount of wood collected from the wreckages would feed her paper mills for a year. Upon concluding the negotiations, she gathered her army and retinue, and moved south to address the forces gathered there.

The border to the south was shared with a hot, dry kingdom. While their culture was very different, the queen had admired the modernity of it's rulers, and her people enjoyed the flavour of the spices they exported. She was unsettled by the sudden emergence of this small army, having believed their truce was strong.

"Fellow Queen," she wrote, standing in a tent with the enemy's messenger beside her. "Why do your armies camp by my border? My people are able to defend this place until the sun goes dark, we are wasting resources on this ridiculous siege." A war should be mutually undesirable - her army would shrivel in their desert, and theirs would freeze in her tundra.

"I have been driven north by my sister," came the response from her antagonist. "She has wrongfully claimed the throne, and attempts to kill me. I beg for your aid, help me take down my evil sister and I will be favourable to you in future negotiations."

The queen was enraged to hear of such a betrayal from a family member, immediately wanting nothing more than to destroy the one who would turn on their own people. Controlling her rage, she thought carefully about her next actions. The information coming from the south was limited, and the queen was known for her strong beliefs on family and loyalty. She needed to know more.

Leaving her generals in charge, she walked to the border and transformed into her wolf form. In this body she could run for many miles, hunt for her own sustenance, and hide from searching eyes. Loping into the darkness, she made her way south, spotting the sisters army before the moon had set again.

Appearing in the tent of a potential enemy leader was too much of a risk for the canny queen. Instead, she silently threaded her way through the sleeping camp and stole a uniform. Shedding her fur, she clothed herself as the enemy and walked confidently towards the fire. The atmosphere here was lively, the soldiers feisty and clearly confident of their success.

"How do you all feel about fighting our own?" Asked one jittery soldier. "Do you think the northerners will take care of it for us?"

"Barely any of our own in that group, Ali!" Replied another, clapping him on the back. "Only a couple dozen were brainwashed by that traitor. I'm sure the rest are just hired mercenaries. She robbed the treasury before she ran, you know."

Ali brightened.

"'Scuse me," said the queen, scratching for more information. "I missed the gossip on the robbery. When did she manage to get to the treasury?"

"Pretty sneaky, hey! She ran there right after the murder," said the second soldier, spinning a knife deftly in his fingers. "She grabbed the gold with her traitor guards and fled before anyone found the body of our departed king, may he rest in peace."

There was a murmur of prayers from everyone within earshot. The queen thanked the man and left the fire. Walking through the camp for the rest of the morning, she heard only more evidence for this version of the story. The sister had murdered her own father, the king, and fled with a small force of traitors and treasure from the coffers. The queen knew the right thing to do, and returned to her wolven form.

After running through the remainder of the day and into the early night, she came back to the border. Staying below the border, she prowled into the dark enemy camp and made her way to the traitors tent, avoiding tired guards by virtue of her wolfish hearing and vision. In the tent, she manifested as a nude, battle scarred woman, put a knife to the throat of the treasonous sister, and woke her with a hand over her mouth.

"Is it true?" She asked quietly, black eyes glinting in the dim candlelight. "Did you murder your father?"

The woman nodded, rage and fear contorting her features. The queen lifted her muting hand for a moment. "He was going to pass the crown to my bitch sister, when I am the one who deserves it!"

The queen, disgusted, didn't wait to hear more and cut her throat swiftly, muffling her victim's final cry with a hand. Transforming back, she quietly returned to her retinue.

"Come, we will only need a basic defensive force here. We depart once I have written a congratulatory message to the southern queen." She turned and walked away, the crowd watching, confused at this pronouncement - more so as they noticed shouts and frantic motion to the south. As they slowly travelled north again, it was confirmed that the southern queen had too much work shoring up her own rule to wage an undesirable war with the north. With the southern issue dealt with, the queen was excited to return to her daughter. She had missed the child desperately throughout her months of travel, the feeling deepening with every moment spent away. She pushed the procession to increase their speed, frustrated with the distance between herself and her child. One cold morning, still only halfway to the capital, she awoke to a new messenger bringing news of unrest to the east. The queen was determined to address this issue swiftly.

The eastern border was shared with an expansive land of dry grass and low hills. The inhabitants were largely migratory, albeit with a handful of large permanent settlements. Their people produced the finest textiles and fabrics, due to their tented lifestyle and fibrous land. As the queen approached the edge of her border, she beheld a sprawling tented encampment, buzzing with activity. With her guards, she approached the mid-point of the no-mans land between the territories.

"Ho, King!" She called into the encampment, before waiting patiently for his approach. It took time for the king to emerge, during which she and her guards casually enjoyed some tea. Finally, she watched a contingent of horsemen approach, packed tightly around a single, well-armoured rider.

"How dare you summon me!" Cried the king, from within the knot of riders. "Your sly, treacherous ways will not be tolerated in my kingdom. I had an agreement with the deceased queen of the south, but now her evil sister has usurped her and will not hear my proposals. I know you are the responsible one!"

The queens guard guffawed as she came to stand at the head of the formation, arms tucked into her sleeves and a severe expression on her face.

"The sister's actions brought her own ruin."

"Nonsense! Her throat was cut in the night, by a coward and a freak." He spat, hitting one of his own guards on the leg. "I knew a woman would be too weak to rule a kingdom with dignity, let alone an aberration like you. Sneaking through the darkness on four legs. I know what you are! My kingdom has orders to slaughter any wolves they see, and we are watching, so don't think you can magic your way into another cowards victory here."

This tirade enraged the queen, proud as she was, and she lost control of her form for a moment. Shifting forward, she snarled with fury, the sound echoing across the contested land. The tight group of guards broke up in a stampede of sharp hooves as the horses scattered from the sudden appearance of a predator. The queen spun on her heel and strode back to her own camp, addressing her retinue.

"Their horses have no success over the rocky ground of our mountain border, so a full-scale attack will not succeed. Focus the majority of our defensive force on the eastern border. We will block any encroaching raids and cut off ties to their kingdom. Our grain imports can be supplemented by the south, and with no salted fish travelling east, our people will not starve in the winter. Then, we shall see how vengeful an aberration can be," she growled. "Now, I have been away from home for far too long, and I intend to spend time with my daughter."

Still tense with rage, she helped coordinate the long journey home, her anger cooling as the procession slowly made its way through the wintery landscape. It seemed to stretch on forever, and the land she normally loved became a monotonous barrier. After weeks of journeying, her frustration got the better of her and she leapt off her horse.

"We will be approaching the city soon and I cannot bear this speed of travel a moment longer," she declared. Without waiting for a response, she dropped to all fours and disappeared, her grey coat blending perfectly into the icy surrounds. Her heart pounded with excitement, and she revelled in the thump of her paws as the landscape blurred beneath her feet. Tongue lolling, panting hard, she approached the outer border of her city. Her people were used to seeing wolves occasionally roam the streets, and they uneasily stepped out of her way as she bounded towards the palace. Her family sensed her as she approached, and spurred her on with echoing howls. The queen returned, triumphant, to her pack.