Malin and the Wolf Children

By Skadi Winter

Germany 1945. A young girl finds herself alone in a vast forest, amid post-war turmoil. As the countryside is ravaged by the final clashes of retreating and advancing troops, Malin has one thought in mind: She must head east, to find her family.
Winter is approaching and, as she begins the long trek, she encounters a group of Wolf Children, the orphans of Germany parents killed in the war. They have gone feral in the forest, scavenging for food and shelter in sub-zero conditions with barely enough clothes to protect them from the snow and ice.
But who is Lubina, the strange young woman who accompanies a group of these children? Is she to be trusted? Many dangers, fears, loves and obsessions will both bind and divide them until journeys end.
This is the second of Skadi Winters atmospheric and mysterious tales, set in the deep countryside of post-war Germany, amid a culture of ancient wisdom, the world of forest spirits, gods and superstitions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496999863

Skadi Winter

Based on my high school education, very early in my life I developed a passion for learning languages and travelling. I grew up during times before the Internet and i-Phones spoiled the subtle poetry of words and read my first book at the age of five—the stories of Wilhelm Busch. I worked as a medical secretary in different sectors of the health service in Germany and England for over thirty years. Like for many women of my generation, following dreams was more often than not possible due to financial and personal circumstances and prejudice against a gender, which still has no idea how to overcome fears to stand up in a world dominated by men. I am a grandmother of eight lovely grandchildren from mothers of four different nations. I tell them stories about a world full of colors, and am grateful for their critiques, which I value very much. I am thankful to live in this world and time and, finally, take my dreams out of the cupboard to fulfill them.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

T ap. Tap. Tap. Again and again, her head hit the floor of the wooden shed. When the rhythm changed, she knew she would have only a moment until it stopped, a moment to try to breathe a gain.

Tears sealed her eyelids. The smell of alcohol and male sweat engulfed her, full of acrid clouds of alcohol. Strong hands held her down and a knee was forced between her legs, which had long ago given in to the pressure.

Above her, the sky was an innocent, clear blue. She tried to listen to the bird’s song, a sound she had always liked so much and which had so often soothed her pain.

‘Birds’, she thought. ‘Sky’.

Her whole body ached. Slowly aware that the tapping noise of her head banging against the shed wall had stopped, she cautiously moved her hand down her body until it reached the centre of the pain, which seemed to burn and sting like thorns ripping her flesh.

She tried to sit up. They were gone.

Malin shook her head, as if to clear it of ill thoughts. How did it happen to her? She knew she had been raped, her mother had told her what the soldiers did to the women and girls they found in their town, of the violence they inflicted before they packed their cart and left.

‘Never let them do that to you’, she had said. ‘Run. Run, Malin. And if they try to grab you, kill yourself. Cut your throat. It will hurt less than what they will do if they get hold of you.’

Malin’s teeth were chattering now, a noise like bony fingers knocking at a window. Her torn skirt and legs were covered in blood, her whole body ached and when her hand edged again towards the centre of the pain, she felt more sticky blood and saw the flies circling. She gave in to the black, velvet unconsciousness which, mercifully, allowed her to drift into a world of darkness.

She just had reached the depths of her inner, darkest space when a coarse cry woke her. Slowly opening her eyes, she looked to where the noise was coming from.

‘Caa, caa.’

Malin sat up, holding her breath. She had to move, to get away from this awful place of pain. She rolled over, clenching her teeth in an effort to gather strength, but still she could not even manage to crawl. The pain in her legs and thighs was excruciating.

Holding on to the tufts of low grass which grew through the floor of the rough wooden building, she dragged herself forward. When she reached the door, she sighed with relief and slumped down in the corner. A lump rose in her throat and she started to gag, the smells and the pain overwhelming her. She retched, but there was little left in her stomach to give relief by vomiting. She tried not to soil the ground where she was lying, although a few splashes dampened her clothes.

Exhausted, Malin lay down, willing the pain to be cast far away, where it would never return to haunt her. She tried to recall the soft lullabies her grandmother had sung to her before bedtime, soft tunes and words in a strange language. Her grandmother’s old tales came into her mind: Zernebog, the Black God.

Her school teacher had said that Zernebog was a heathen god, which he called Satan. She closed her eyes and touched the sunwheel she still was wearing around her neck on a black string. She longed to be a child again, for her wounds to be healed.

Her grandmother had told her that without the Sun, without light and shadow, there would be no other creatures or plants living on our planet. They all deserved respect.

Tears ran down her cheeks. How could she ever respect anybody again? How could she ever be respected, after what had happened to her?

Malin tried to get up and look for something to light a fire. She was cold, and night was falling. She could not stay here. What if the men came back?

She gathered the matches she had found earlier in a corner of the hut and slowly, painfully, got to her feet, pushing herself on to her knees. Then, holding on to the wooden planks of the wall, she edged her way along, bending slightly to emerge into the open air, biting her lip against the pain. Every step was agony. Her legs felt as though they belonged to someone else.

Go, Malin, she told herself. Run, Malin, run. She tried to stand up straight and think, but her thoughts were in turmoil. Where could she go? Which direction had the men gone, after they had left her lying there, bleeding? She licked her cracked lips and took a deep breath. The forest, she thought. It was only a few hundred metres away, a dark line at the end of the dry, brown meadow. ‘Pommernland ist abgebrannt ...’ The old childhood rhyme suddenly came to her mind. Pomerania, an old land by the sea, had burned, before it had been struck by evil.

When the men came, her grandmother had tried to protect Malin by throwing herself on top of her, but she had been pulled away. Her mother had screamed, ‘Run, Malin, run!’ Images flashed before her, memories too painful to deal with now. Now she must run again.

She scanned the dark line of the pine forest and knew that she had to reach it. The forest was her only chance to hide. She held up her head and sniffed the breeze, like a wounded animal in flight. Then, fastening her torn coat around her with the rope which held it together, she touched the matches in her pocket and started to walk, as fast as the pain would allow.

As she reached the first trees of the forest and heard the pine needles and twigs crunch beneath her feet, she realised that she had been holding her breath, not only because of the pain of every step, but out of fear of hearing footsteps behind her.

And there they were. A slight echo on the dry forest ground, picking up pace as she did.

She started to run, pain shooting up her spine, her breath cutting like a knife into her chest, until she could run no longer. She slowed and cautiously turned to look over her shoulder. When her eyes had adjusted to the dim twilight of the forest, she felt a human presence nearby, but could see nothing. Every muscle in her body was clenched and she held her breath, focusing on a tree where she thought she had seen movement a second earlier.

‘Hey’, she called, ‘come out. I know you’re there’.

Even as she called out the words, her mind was working, to decide how to defend herself. She noticed some thicker branches a few steps away and bent down slowly to pick one up, her heart pounding in her ears. As she closed her fingers tightly around the rough wood and straightened again, all she could see was the small cloud of mist formed by her own breath.

For a few moments she stood, listening to the wind in the trees above her, scanning the area carefully. The tall trees threw large, dark shadows and a light mist was rising. Suddenly, her nose caught a musty smell and a sensation like a lightning bolt shot through her head, as if thousands of Christmas lights had been turned on at once. Her knees buckled and she fell unconscious on to the soft forest floor, unaware of the thud of a heavy boot into her ribs, or the gleeful sound of the man who had waited so long to finally touch her.

CHAPTER 2

W ith a shiver, Malin opened her eyes, shaking her head to clear her mind and focus on her surroundings. The pain in her stomach and thighs remained, but had moved upwards. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue thick and stiff. She noticed a strong, damp odour, as if she was lying in an old potato cellar, or among mushr ooms.

She tried to lift her arms, but discovered they were bound tightly behind her back with rope. The room was in complete darkness, as if she had gone blind, but darkness had never frightened her. For as long as she could remember, Grandmother had told her tales of the earth inhabited by sunlight and shadows.

Malin lay still and tried to remember those ancient tales, of Berstuk, the evil god of the forest, of Belobog, the white god of light and sun, of the vucari, or wolf-humans. Tales of Germanic berserkers, humans who knew no fear or pain, only battle rage.

Thinking about these tales and her grandmother’s gentle voice, Malin felt herself floating away, past the face of Zislbog the moon goddess, who was frowning, instead of smiling.

Afraid that she was falling asleep, or into unconsciousness, Malin shook her head again. She must not drift off, she had to find out what had happened – and why. Who kept her in this stinking hole? Where was she? She tried to lift her feet, but they were also tied. Straining her eyes into the pitch darkness, she noticed a sliver of light in a wall opposite where she was lying. Was it a door?

Taking a deep breath, she rolled herself on to her stomach, but fell painfully on to her face because her hands were bound. Pushing herself up on one shoulder, trying to ignore the pain, she finally managed to kneel on the damp clay.

It was impossible to orientate oneself in this dark, dank-smelling place. What if the person who had imprisoned her came back and found her like this? Tears welled in her eyes and she rolled back, until she was lying on her side again, giving in to the feeling of hopelessness, rocking herself into a short, exhausted sleep.

When she woke, she felt no sense of time or place. She had to move, to ease her icy hands and wrists. With an effort, she pushed herself up on to her knees and wriggled her fingers and toes, to help the blood circulate again. She must focus, forget about the why and how for now and do something. But what?

Concentrating on the small sliver of light and the fresh-smelling air which she sensed beyond, she started to hobble on her knees towards what she believed was a door. As soon as she reached it, she let her shoulder slide along and felt rough wood and heard a slight rattling. It WAS a door!

For a few seconds, she held her breath, then tried to push against it. It did not budge. Of course, she thought, it would be locked. Struggling to her feet, she listened for possible sounds from behind the door, then when she felt sure there was nothing but her own misty breath and the rushing of blood in her ears, she shoved again, much harder. Did the door slightly crack in its hinges, or was she imagining it?

Again, holding her breath to listen for any noise other than her quickening heartbeat and a rush of excitement which made her body tremble, she pushed her shoulder into the door with all her remaining strength. It did not move, but Malin suddenly had the feeling that someone was standing on the other side.

Her eyes focused on the darkness around her and as she looked at the space above the door, she saw it grow wider. Was it her imagination? She gathered all her strength to push the door again, desperately following her instincts like an animal in flight. For a moment, she closed her eyes and, with a stifled scream, hit the ground and fell flat on her face. Slowly opening her eyes, she became aware of a pair of small, dirty feet wrapped in cloth. Someone was bending over her and cutting free her wrists, then her feet.

Panicking, she tried to stand, but fell backwards. The young boy who had cut her ropes grabbed her under the arms and pulled her upright. She found herself looking down into two pairs of dark eyes, staring out of two small faces, smeared with mud. Lank, greasy hair emerged from the makeshift headscarves wrapped around their heads like dirty bandages. Malin turned to see who had freed