The Tale of Pangaea

This story is true.

Everything we are and everything we were began in
Pangaea. You already know what Pangaea was. You’ve heard
stories of the Garden of Eden — that’s the best that humans
could do trying to remember it. You catch glimpses of it in your
dreams, and sometimes you smell something — maybe a whiff
of a healthy plant, or something about the scent of your prey
— and you almost remember. The scents are the hardest to
forget. You can’t remember it fully, though, can you? Nobody
can. Only the first of our kind walked in Pangaea.

And they were the ones who had to destroy it.

Can you remember the scent? The world was lush and
full of promise. Spirits could enter the realm of flesh easily,
and animals and humans could walk into the cool spirit shadow of the world. Pangaea wasn’t the joining of continents
that geologists talk about, but the world in its first form. Humans
and spirits shared a common language, the First Tongue.
We can’t remember whether Pangaea was a time, a place, or
both. All we can recall is that it was glorious, and it was lost.

When Pangaea was in full bloom, its beauty seduced the
heart of the moon itself. Mother Luna — Amahan Iduth
— grew enchanted with the world growing beneath her. She
took the form of a woman of flesh and descended to earth. She
walked among the jungles and swam in the seas. She was the
most beautiful creature in the world, and she had countless
suitors. The greatest and most valiant was Urfarah … and
you know that name, don’t you? He was Father Wolf.

Pangaea was glorious, but it wasn’t a world of perfect
peace and gentleness. It was a hunter’s world. The lion still
hunted the lamb; the spirit still took what it needed from the
world of flesh. Death was a part of this hunter’s paradise, and
the greatest hunter of all was Father Wolf. He was a warrior
of the Shadow Realm and the muddy world of air and earth.
He roamed the boundaries of the physical world, keeping
everything in its place. Spirits roamed into the world of the
flesh, but not far or for long. Urfarah was all too ready to give
chase when a spirit overstayed its welcome. When necessary,
his teeth and claws pushed mortals and animals back into the
relative safety of the flesh world if they strayed too far into the
spirit world. His heart burned with supernatural strength and
conviction, a righteous Rage that made him unstoppable. But
he was the master of that Rage. He was first above us all, and
greater than any other.

Father Wolf loved Luna as she rode across the skies, and
was overcome with joy and love when he encountered her
walking through the borderlands between the spirit world and
the physical. He was not alone in either of these sentiments.
For her part, Luna found Father Wolf to be valiant and wise,
strong and handsome, and she loved him in return. They
knew one another, and she gave him children of both spirit
and flesh — the first werewolves. Although she wore a human
body, Luna gave birth to the first werewolves as a litter of nine
pups, a sign of their future fate.

From Luna our ancestors gained the power to change
shape, just as she changes her own shape every month. From
Father Wolf they gained senses, strength and speed that went
beyond those of flesh-born wolves. From both parents they
gained a measure of spiritual power, for Mother Moon was
Queen of the Shadow Realm and Father Wolf was Lord of the
Border Marches.

After giving birth, Luna returned to the skies and Father
Wolf raised the First Pack. He taught the first Uratha the ways
of wolf and man, flesh and spirit. He showed them the roads
from the Shadow Realm through forest, mountain or desert
into the world of flesh, down trails to the tribal homes of men.

Father Wolf raised the First Pack to aid him in his duties
as guardian of the Border Marches. They took to these duties
and helped bring order to the spirit world and the muddy
world. They were shepherds of human, animal and spirit.
They culled any herd, tribe or pack that got too large or too
dangerous, playing the role of first among predators.

Of course, some spirits and some tribes of humanity
didn’t take well to this treatment. Some fought back, and
through force of numbers, magic or strength, some wouldn’t
die so easily. Father Wolf and his pack banished the worst to
the far reaches of the spirit wilds, including mighty spirits, lesser
servants of those spirits and tribes of men who worshipped
dark powers and committed blasphemous crimes. Others, such
as the Plague King and the Spinner-Hag, opposed Father Wolf
when they could and fled when they found they could not take
on his entire pack.

We were lords of the dawn world. Our great strength
and our ability to take different forms allowed us to dominate
any man or creature. Few predators could challenge us. No
prey could resist us. Even the strongest mammoths and fiercest
predators of that era were no match for a pack of werewolves.
It was a dark time to be human, but it was our age of glory, a
golden age painted with the bright blood of our prey.

And like every golden age, it was doomed.

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