Of Ghosts and Wolves: Wolf's Hart, #1

By Ariana Hagen

Of Ghosts And Wolves
Book I of The Wolf's Hart series

By Ariana Hagen

 

Sage possesses the skill to see both human and animal specters — a lifelong trait that has thus far proven to be both a blessing and a curse. Existing in obscurity between a forest and mountain range, she hides her nature from the world, enjoying only the company of animals—alive and dead.  

Her sanctuary, however, crumbles when out of the forest emerges a force too powerful for her to ignore. A great black wolf appears . . . searching for answers and on the run.        

One day, a man named Corrick arrives — a wanderer from distant lands — and Sage, despite her self-imposed isolation, is drawn to him. Conflicted by their budding friendship, terrified of forming a bond, she safeguards her secrets while exploring what it means to truly live.

Yet, Corrick is running from a past that may eventually come to haunt them both. The fates may soon demand that they face their demons, and shed light on their secrets . . . together.   

 

 

76,700 Approximate words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ariana Hagen
• Release date: Feb 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201705879

Ariana Hagen

Ariana lives on a little farm surrounded by goats, dogs, and horses. She is an avid fantasy and science fiction reader and survives solely off coffee. Her passion has always been in writing. Since she was a child she has been writing stories with a flair for the tragic. She is currently working on expanding her passion into the world of published novels.

Book preview

Of Ghosts and Wolves

A Wolf’s Hart Novel

By Ariana Hagen

Copyright ©February 2022. Ariana Hagen. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: Younesselh

Editing: Tiffany @ Tiffwritesromance.com

Proofreading: Ariana Hagen

Chapter 1

6 Years Ago

Iwas very young when I went to live in the forest. And I was incredibly alone. I had no family in need of my presence, and nothing tied me to the bustle of the little towns that dotted the countryside. I felt choked and overcrowded in their midst, and everywhere I turned, haunting memories flooded me. So then, at the tender age of eighteen, I packed up my meager belongings and started my journey towards the mountains.

I didn’t know where I was going to settle down at or even if I ever would. A part of me wanted to travel until I reached the mythic salt sea. But another part of me knew that wasn’t my journey in this life. Something about the deep and dark woods of the Black Rock Mountains called to me. Distant memories of passing them as a child nagged my mind. Those mountains were my destination. And so, I walked. I walked and walked and walked. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into two long months of following trails and hiding away from the major travel routes. I might have been brave, but I was not foolish, and I knew a young girl, alone, like myself was at risk in this world. 

As I traveled, I gathered and foraged food and herbs, and I hunted to feed myself. I found natural shelters when I needed to and bartered what little money and belongings I had for a room when I came across one of the towns or villages along my way. Sometimes I stayed in a farmer’s barn with the livestock in exchange for doing the morning chores. I always preferred those nights over any others. The smell of the horses and goats and their soft, nighttime sounds soothed me when I curled up in the hay to sleep. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I would often lay in whatever bed or makeshift shelter I was in and think about the home I had left behind.

I learned the necessary means of survival when my parents were taken by the plague, and my older siblings took in and treated a sick fur trader in exchange for knowledge. At that time, during the sickness, no one would treat the plague-ridden. If it hadn’t been for my two siblings, the fur trader would have died alone and writhing in pain. Luckily for him, the plague had already reached its sickly fingers into our house and stolen the life from our parents. Its passing left us immune—alone, but immune. Therefore, in order to ensure our survival, we took in any sick who could teach us skills in exchange for caring for them. Sometimes, our help came in the form of simply easing their passing into the next realm. Few survived the great sickness once it took a burning grip on them. But the use of voice and words was one of the last bodily functions to leave a person. So, if they were too ill to survive, we coaxed everything the person knew out of them before helping them sip the tea that ultimately stilled their too-fast hearts.

I was ten when this happened. Looking back, it seemed so long ago—an entire lifetime lived since then. A young child, with her barely older brother and sister, were forced to face the world and struggle with the unsureness of what would happen to us. But we survived, and as I trudged into the expansive world by myself years later, I took with me my will to live. 

Two months of living off the land and silent journeying led me to the base of the wild and sharp mountain range that led east to west and divided my part of the world in two. At its base were a few small villages and a large town that acted as a trade hub for this part of the established kingdom. Well-worn paths led out of it, some leading east over the milky colored Pearl Swamps, and others leading west to the salt sea of my childhood fables, and then beyond, across the known and unknown oceans of Paridia. A few led north into the frigid cold, and many led south, where I had come from.

It was colder by the mountains than where I had come from, but I welcomed the chill in the air. The way the breeze lifted goosebumps on my skin filled me with energy and an electric vigor. Tendrils of wind lifted my fiery-red hair, caressing my face and neck like a curious child. The wild of this place was as inquisitive about me as I was about it. It was something I could feel in the ground as I walked, something I could hear in the flourishing trees as the leaves rustled. Not far in the distance, I could see the emerald-green stain of the forest as it crept down the mountain and encroached on the yellow fields and pastures. From that point on the trail, I couldn’t see into the woods. Their depths were impenetrable to my gaze, and my heart beat strongly with the desire to see what lay beyond that beckoning darkness.

The day that I arrived at the mountain’s base, I made my way into the large trade town. It was called Giant’s Feet because of the old legend of the sleeping giant that lay in the Black Rock Mountains. Giant’s Feet was a wild, bustling place filled with more people than I had ever seen in my life. Choking nausea overwhelmed me at the sight of so many people. My breath came fast and heavy as anxiety flooded my body. The instinct to run was overwhelming. Pushing it down was hard, but I had to do it. I had to choke back my fear and anxiety. I couldn’t let my worry of what I might see dissuade me after I had come so far. I was only going to be there for a short time—only long enough to trade for some supplies and inquire about unclaimed lands in the area. I wouldn’t spend a moment longer there if I could help it.

At the center of the town sat the fat and sprawling market center. Caravans, tents, stalls and brick and wood shop buildings littered the cobble-stoned oval clearing. Never in my brief life had I seen so many material goods. My hometown had been a flourishing, southern town, but it had very little trade beyond the neighboring villages and landowners. Giant’s Feet was a monster all its own. The crowds of people and animals stretched further than I could see, hocking wares and jostling to buy services. Superimposed over them was a smoky billowing cloud of movement. I shook my head viciously, trying to clear my mind.

The urge to turn and run flooded my veins again. I pushed it down as deep as I could, reassuring myself that this would be a brief part of my life I would soon forget. Eventually, the smokey layer over the town dissipated.

I moved forward one step at a time until I reached a quaint tavern tucked behind a tall stable, with a matronly woman leaning against the pillars, a rolled cigar in her hands. She grunted at me when I approached her, eyeing me up and down.

If yer looking for work, we ain’t got any room for any more girls right now. Though by the looks of that there caravan that rolled in, she gestured over to an seemingly endless caravan of horses and wagons that was pushing its way into the town, we might need ya soon if ye want ter stick around. 

I looked at her, considering. It was obvious what she thought I had approached her for. She thought I wanted to be a working girl, to service the men that came through and relieve them of their coins. A small smile tugged at my mouth, but I shook my head. Though I was not against such business, it was not what I was looking for. The nearby forest called to me. As if the trees themselves were whispering my name, I felt an urge to go into their midst and lose myself. But I needed to be established first. I needed to get legal land that I could claim as my own. Land that I could build a life on.

No, ma’am, I replied in my smoother accent. I simply seek information on unclaimed territory in the area.

The woman snorted again and took a puff of her cigar. 

Good luck on that. There ain’t no open land between here and River Crossing, not nor as far as I could spit towards that there mountain. She gestured vaguely behind her in the direction of where the jagged peaks of the mountains tore into the pale, blue sky far above the roof of any of the buildings.

I frowned. I hadn’t thought about the fact that there would not be any free land so near a major trade town. The area I had grown up in was wide open and expansive, and land was easy to come across. Naive to the rest of the world, I hadn’t taken into consideration that large towns were vastly different from my small farming village.  Of course, everyone who wanted any sort of profit from the ever-flowing river of people would have claimed the surrounding land long, long ago. My heart ached at the realization, fear creeping up my spine. What if I was wrong about this place? What if I couldn’t live here?

I dashed those thoughts quickly. If there was no place of my own to claim, I simply needed to find a farmer or rancher who had space for a hard-working girl. If that failed, I would pack my bags again and climb the craggy summit of the mountain myself. No other option made sense to me. I had banked my entire journey on reaching the Black Rock Mountains and settling in their shadow somewhere. Behind me was a lost home with too many ghosts, both real and emotional, to return to.

What about the forest? I asked the matron timidly. Is there yet any uncleared land I could make my own?

The matron choked on her cigar smoke. She thumped her chest with a hard-worked, leathery hand and frowned at me. Stubbing the cigar out on the wood pillar, she turned to face me with her hands on her ample hips.

Ye don’t want to do that, girl. Them forests ain’t no place fer a human to live, much less a young sprig such as yerself. All the folks around here know it to be true.

It was my turn to frown. Anger and frustration at the obstacles I was facing built in my stomach. It felt like hot coals had ignited, burning my skin. Gritting my teeth, I took a deep breath to cool the heat inside me. Who was this stranger to tell me what I could and could not do?

Well, regardless of that, if I wanted to inquire about making myself a home in the forest, who would I talk to? 

Yer as fiery as yer hair, ain’t ya, ye sprig? The frown still creased the woman’s face, but there was a gentleness to her voice when she spoke. Fine then. I see by yer face there’s no use convincing ya otherwise. She sighed and took two heavy steps down the steps of the tavern. Coming out onto the cobble street, she pointed around the side of the stable to where a row of wood and shingle buildings sat on their own.

That dark-doored shop... inside’s the man ye’ll need ter speak to. Then, she patted my shoulder and hustled back into the tavern.

The shouts of people and brays of mules and donkeys grew slightly quieter as I made my way behind the imposing hulk of the stable and down the path to the row of buildings. Back on that street, there were fewer merchants and tradesfolk and more townspeople going about their business. The anxiety that had been nagging me calmed down a little as I got away from the chaos. Each of the shops in the row I approached was identical except for their signage and the colors of their doors. At first, I thought the door on the shop I was headed to was black, but as I got closer, I saw that it was actually a deep, dark green, the color of pine needles in winter. 

I hesitated briefly to read the sign hanging over the entrance.

Property, Land, and Titles of the Hrandor Kingdom

Warm, humid air assaulted me when I opened the door. Inside, it was dark. I wrinkled my nose as I looked around. Dark, green curtains the same color as the door covered the only two windows within the room. The air was heavy with the smell of old papers and musty books. Dim lights leaned out from the walls and sat propped on various desks spread across the shopfront, doing little to light the interior. One single, bright source of light was a gas lamp burning fiercely beside a hulking oak table off to one side. Behind the table sat a wiry, tall man with a shock of white hair. Large spectacles perched precariously on the tip of his flat nose. 

Hello, miss. How may I assist you today? The man rose from his elegant chair, setting down the paper he had been holding. Unlike the tavern matron’s heavily accented voice, the shop owner’s voice was liquid and soft. 

I need information, I started, paused, then began again. Actually, I need property.

The man slowly took off his spectacles, truly looking at me for the first time. Long legs carried him out from behind his desk and over to me. He extended an equally long arm for a handshake. I grasped his hand and shook it firmly, trying not to show any nerves. Up close, I could smell that his very clothes were inundated with the smell of paper, wood smoke, and old books.

Miss, I respect your forthcoming attitude, but I must tell you that unless you are secretly the wealthy daughter of a lord, there is no property within these town borders that you could afford.

My eyes narrowed. 

That’s fine. I don’t want to live in this town. I want property in that forest on the other side of the meadows. I don’t need a lot. Just enough for a small homestead. And I can pay.

The pause that followed seemed endless. It seemed so long that I almost began to repeat myself. Just as I opened my mouth to tell him again, he cleared his throat.

I am so sorry for my rudeness. I did not introduce myself to you. The smooth voice came out hesitantly. My name is Mr. Arben. I assume you are not local. In fact, by your dialect, I would say you have traveled quite a way to reach our splendid town of Giant’s Feet.

I nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going.

I’m Sage. I didn’t offer my last name. He would get it when I signed paperwork, no sooner. 

Mr. Arben briefly looked at my jewel-red hair.

Sage. An interesting name for a girl with such vibrant hair.

I shrugged, desperately keeping old memories at bay.

It was my mother’s favorite smelling plant. She used to fill our house with the sprigs. A small smile tremored on my lips as I spoke about my mother.

Mr. Arben paused again, then bowed and gestured to a chair placed in front of his desk. I hesitated, unsure of what he wanted, but eventually sat down. Once I was seated, Mr. Arben himself sat down on his own luxurious chair behind the massive desk. He steepled his fingers in front of him. He looked at me again. Then, he brought his spectacles back to their precarious spot on his nose.

You are young, Ms. Sage, and far from home. I will not lecture you, as I can see you have proven yourself sufficient enough to make your way here. But I must warn you. Those forests are not a place for living. They are dangerous, and they have taken the life of many experienced men who dedicated their entire careers to living in the wilderness. There was another pause. Mr. Arben seemed fond of long pauses in conversation.

Not to mention, there are people not far beyond the mountain range who do not approve of the Hrandor Kingdom settling these lands. His hands spread wide to indicate the country around us. This mountain range is a short week’s travel south of the kingdom’s more...untamed land. He cleared his throat. I must apologize for what I am about to say. I’m not one given to fairy tales, but... There is talk of creatures in those woods. People disappear forever. Hunters die gruesome deaths in violent ways we have never seen before.

Mr. Arben sighed and ran his long fingers through his thick, white hair. Round eyes peered over his spectacles at me.

Sir... I began, gathering all of my courage. I had come so far. I would not give up yet. I couldn’t head back. I could only go forward. The life I had left was not one I could continue to live. I appreciate your warnings. I do. But you will not convince me. I want to buy land in that forest... and I will pay for it.

Another one of his long pauses filled the room. Then, very slowly, he reached to one side and pulled forward a leather-bound book. He flipped it open and browsed the pages, continuing on this way for what seemed like forever. Finally, he stopped flipping pages and tapped one part in particular. Another sigh escaped him as he stood to pull a map off a shelf behind him. With both the book and map in front of him, he compared the notes to the topography. After another long moment, he grabbed a pen, marked a vaguely square shape on the map and pushed it across the desk to me.

Here, he tapped the spot he had marked. There is a part of the forest that is two day’s brisk travel from this town. This property is comprised of thirty acres of unclaimed wilderness. The trees are thick. The scavenging predators are abundant. But there is a healthy stream that crosses through this property, and it is tucked against a cliff-side basin of the mountain. You would be protected from the worst elements. He grabbed his book again, quickly checked something, then scribbled on the map.

To the south side of the forest, there is farmland owned by a wealthy lord. His servants keep up the fields and manor for him. He is seldom there. But in an emergency, human help would be only a day’s journey from you.

Those round eyes peered at me speculatively. 

That is the closest I can get you to the comforts of humanity without requiring your weight in gold for payment. It is still costly, but there is no other land I can offer you. The only thing that enables you to buy this land is that no sane man will step foot in those forests for longer than a day, much less live there. Do you understand me, Ms. Sage?

In response, I extended my hand to him. Sighing once again, he shook mine. With a mutter, he stood up and started gathering paperwork from various places around him. A stack of papers were placed before me. The map was laid on top of them. The tall gentleman handed me his pen. Part of me was aware that he was explaining to me the law and logistics of the contract, but I was hardly listening. I didn’t care. It could ask for my soul, and I would gladly give it. All I knew was that my heart was thundering with joy. I would be free—free of my past, free to live alone and carve my own future out of this existence. Better yet, I would be living amongst the trees that had called to me ever since I was a child. I would live beneath the mountain range that had immersed itself in my dreams since I had crossed below it many years ago.

Ms. Sage? Interrupted from my thoughts, I looked up at the tall man. The payment will be due now.

Of course. Quickly, I pulled my bag to my lap and reached inside. Buried beneath my sparse clothes and my travel rations was a leather baggie. Carefully, I opened it and tipped the contents onto the oak table. Four golden rings and a jewel-studded circlet rolled out from the leather pouch. A soft gasp escaped Mr. Arben.

I will not ask how you came into possession of such things, he whispered.

Will this cover the cost? I asked, unsure. I had coins still, but they were hardly enough to get me lodging and food for a day.

Long fingers plucked the circlet up and those spectacles gleamed in the lamplight as Mr. Arben examined the jewels. After a thorough examination, he pushed the four gold rings back to me.

This will cover your land. The deed is yours. Take those rings and keep them, young miss. You will need them to buy enough supplies to get established on that property. Another one of his frequent pauses. Or you will not survive, he added.

Eagerly, I grabbed the papers before me. I signed at the bottom of a sheet: Sage Erlander.

Then I began to read my copy of the documents, my throat in a knot from excitement.

In The Name Of The King Anthon Hrandor Of The Hrandor Kingdom, I Legally Bequeath The Land That Borders Giant’s Feet, In The Area Of The Black Rock Mountains. The Property Is To Consist Of The Land 30 Miles West, By 8 Miles North, Of Giant’s Feet. A Sum Of 30 Acres Will Be Staked From The Surrounding Forest And Wilderness. 

Iskimmed the rest , uncaring of the details. Other papers detailed the plot of land that was to be mine and the landmarks that marked its edges. Another paper detailed my form of payment