( The Real Story! )
In the mountains of Auvergne, a story dating back to 1588 was told of a royal female werewolf. In the story the nobleman was gazing out of his window and upon seeing a hunter he knew asked the hunter to check with details of the hunt.
( So far, that sounds about right. That's about all my husband the Nobleman did in those days...he believed one of our station should never do anything, that's what
the help was for. Fetch this fetch that turn your head and cough for me, ask about a hunt instead of riding out and taking a look for himself. )
While in the forest, the hunter stumbled upon a wolf.
(That was me, only at the time I wasn't a wolf. I mean, think about it, daylight no full moon. I was out for a ride alone and the hunter? He had Roman Fingers and Russian Hands...if you get my drift.)
In the ensuing struggle, he severed one of the wolf's paws and placed it in his pouch.
(Sicko, when he couldn't get me to submit he cut off my hand and tried to take my head. But even in human form I'm not exactly without defenses. In fact, had I not lost my hand I could've snapped his neck.)
Upon returning to the chateau with his gruesome prize, he opened the pouch to show the nobleman evidence of his encounter. What they discovered was not a paw at all, in fact, the pouch contained what looked to be a feminine hand bearing an elegant gold ring.
(He never had my 'paw' but he had to explain what he thought were my poor hacked up remains...and remember there was always the chance someone say us talking in the Woods that day. I always rode on well traveled paths. Safety first you know.)
The nobleman recognized the ring and sent the hunter away. The nobleman then went looking for his wife. When he came upon her in the kitchen, he found her nursing a wounded arm. He removed the bandage only to find that her hand had been cut off. Upon questioning his wife she finally admitted to being the wolf the hunter had encountered in the forest and...
( By the time he found me in the kitchen the sun was starting to set and I was going to change...it was a full moon that night. So I told him, indeed I was a Werewolf but I wasn't a wolf that afternoon and that I hadn't attacked the Hunter. He attacked me first.
Now my husband was a spoiled rich pampered Nobleman. But he wasn't a bad spoiled rich pampered Nobleman. As far as they go, he was an upright guy. He asked me, after seeing my stump and cut neck, would I remember the Hunter? Could I find him if I wanted to?
Oh yes, I told him, after all, we Werewolves travel in packs. If I couldn't find him one of the others could. But all the same, the Hunter and I would meet again.
My husband smiled...smirked really and kissed my cheek. Then he told me to have a pleasant evening and that he would see me in the morning.
That's my story...the real story of the Shewolf of Auvergne )