The Legend of the Werewolf

The Legend of the Werewolf



By Daniel R. Johnson





        Many years ago there was a warrior known as Quechenastel, which means “Blood of the wolf.” He was a small and fragile boy, whose curiosity of the wolf packs that lived around him grew with every passing year.

         When he came of age, he was sent out on a journey across the land to recapture a stolen totem that was taken from his tribe. It was told to him that when he retrieved this totem that he would become a man and be in line to be the next chief.

         So Quechenastel hurried out into the cold and frozen lands to find the missing totem. It never occurred to him that the village just made up this story to be rid of him because of his mother being with a white man after he was born.

         Tirelessly he tried to find the totem in vain. Years passed and many moons fell around Quechenastel until one day he decided that all was lost and went into a cave preparing to die from the harsh winter.

         As Quechenastel lay freezing to death in this cave he saw the glimmer of two eyes staring from behind a rock in the cave. He did not move, he had no more strength, and so he didn’t even think about defending himself from whatever was behind that rock.

         Quechenastel knew it was time for him to go and as he closed his eyes he saw what was behind the rock, a black wolf.

         A few days later he woke up to find the wolf curled up beside him trying to keep him warm and protect him. After many suns rose, Quechenastel and the wolf’s friendship grew and soon they became partners.

         One night after hunting, Quechenastel and the wolf went to sleep, but it was not before long that a vision appeared to him in a dream.

         Tmoti, the god of wolves, came to him in the form of a human and wolf, but it did not frighten him. Tmoti told Quechenastel that he approved of their union and that a truce between his tribe and the wolf packs would be forever sealed, so long as he could get the village to accept it.

         He told Quechenastel that if they could not find it in their hearts to accept such a union of love, then the earth would be punished, for the humans arrogance.

         As quickly as the dream of Tmoti came, it left as soon.

         Waking up, Quechenastel, embraced the black wolf and told it of Tmoti. With an unseen insight the wolf understood and so they embarked back to Quechenastel’s village.

         He and the wolf walked into the village and met with the elder, and they spoke of his dream and his union with the black wolf.

         But the villagers did not approve of this act against nature.

         So they bound Quechenastel and the wolf together and drove a large spear through both of them, killing them.

         A single drop of blood hit the earth and in a maelstrom of wind and lighting, the great god Tmoti appeared to the villagers.

         “Oh, what have you pitiful humans done?” he wailed in obvious distress.

         Tmoti was angered and vowed that people shall never be safe anymore. He said that when prejudice seeps in to their hearts it is no different that the white mans lies to their people.

         He cursed the villagers telling them, “On moonlit nights, your hands will change to paws, your teeth will become fangs, and your bodies will bend. You will be the things that you took away from our world, You will be the Nastelqeuches, or werewolves to the white man.” And with that Tmoti took his leave and the curse gave birth to the werewolf.