cursing just the couple—they were so angry that their gift of the precious Zmei had been destroyed, they cursed all the clans."
"Oh no."
"It was terrible. They were no longer to be warriors but hunters, hunters of the night. The Dacian baier of the Zmei and the Wolf was broken—the talisman separated forever by their betrayal. The Dacians would become wolves and live off of the land as beasts of the night. The goddess of fertility—she turned the Dacian—sterp, barren, infertile.
The men who killed the Zmei were to become another entity all together. They were cursed by the sun god, Derzelas, and would die if they were to try to live in his light. The goddess of the hunt cursed them with never finding nourishment in the flesh of beast—only the blood of man. And the goddess of fertility she cursed them severely—they could only create more of their kind by exchange of blood for blood…at the victim's request."
"Wait, you said that there was one Zmeu left though. Where did he go?" Marilyn sat on the edge of the bench, waiting to hear more. If what Nonni told her was real then could the medallion hold some truth? Even folklore and legend held kernels of fact in them.
"So eager you are." Nonni cleared the used dishes. Marilyn went to help her, afraid she'd do something else and not tell her the rest, but the old woman continued, "There is one. Only because of a kind young prophet who went to pray over the desecrated Zmei. He found one, still alive, barely breathing. He'd turned into a human to protect the mate of the Zmei leader, but in doing so, received a nearly fatal wound. The prophet took him to his teacher, the god known as Zamolxis, and worked to heal the last of the Zmei.
The gods looked on the young prophet favorably for his kindness. They blessed him with the ability to one day mate and produce an offspring, when the time was right."
"So this Zmeu is immortal? Was he cursed?"
The wizened woman smiled. "Zmei are immortal to begin with. The Zmeu curses himself. He desires to find a mate who will accept him for what he is."
She felt sorry for the creature. Thousands of years and no real companionship. He was stuck up in a mountain like some mythical Sasquatch, biding his time.
Marilyn couldn't help but think on the whole story. So much folklore and mysticism. Did she believe any of it? She carefully dried the dishes as Nonni washed. The old woman seemed to believe. She was strega. Witches were those who believed in the past, using it to guide them. As she hung up the dishtowel, the door burst open on a gust of wind and men.
"Nonni, get Marilyn packed up. We need to leave, now."
"What's going on, Draylon?" Marilyn went to his side. The other two men were busy packing up what they could find for comfort and security. She remembered them naked the other night. But now they all looked as they were nearly torn to shreds.
"You all bleed. Sit, Nonni take care of you." The old woman hustled around for herbs and dressings.
"There isn't time, Nonni. We need to get you out of here," Therron commanded.
Marilyn noticed blood caked and some dripping from Draylon's head. She went to touch it and he grabbed her hand. "We don't have time. The Vamiers are on their way."
Ren checked a shotgun for ammunition. "They invaded the Wolves Den looking for you. When they saw Draylon, they knew you couldn't be far away."
"I'll get packed." Marilyn scurried to her room and collected her things. The suitcase would be too much of a hassle if they had to walk. She took out the knapsack she'd stowed away for mountain hiking and packed it with essential clothing and supplies. Checking the inner most pocket of her suitcase, she found the medallion. Securing it inside the vintage handkerchief Nonni had wrapped it in, she placed the medallion in the secret zippered pocket where it wouldn't be damaged or lost. All was good.
Dressed in layers and hiking boots she'd brought with her, Marilyn was as ready as she could be. She didn't know
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