We are the voices that echo long after the battle drums fall silent.
When the men march into the valley, it is we who bind their wounds, raise their heirs, and whisper to the moon when no one else dares to pray.
They call us war wives, as if that name alone can hold the weight of what we carry. We are mothers, daughters, healers, mourners. Our hands remember the warmth of the fallen as much as the touch of the living.
Every howl you hear in the night carries two tones — the rage of the warriors, and the grief of the women who wait.
The valley does not spare us.
For every mate lost, for every son buried, we carry their memory in silence. But silence does not mean surrender.
It is in our songs that the prophecy is remembered — the whispers that one day, a child born of rival bloodlines will end this endless cycle. Some among us fear it, others cling to it. But all of us know: without it, we will bleed until there is nothing left.
Do not think us weak. We have held blades when the packs faltered. We have sharpened our grief into weapons. And if the day comes when men and wolves alike fail, it will be the war wives who carry the fire forward.
It is not only our men who fight the wars our hearts do too.
Head’s up Affiliate Disclosure
As the author behind Mythos & Moonlight Realms, I may include affiliate links in this post especially to my own books. If you click on a link and decide to purchase, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.
These commissions help support my writing, fund research, and keep the saga of the War Wolves alive. I only share links to works I believe in especially my own. Thank you for supporting both the story and the storyteller.