Episode 56: Children of Nature
Written By Karl White
This is a biography of sorts...of individuals vital to the make up of an entire population. Born from a curse of anguish and pain, made through bloodshed or violence. Lost souls, forced to wander and hide within themselves. Tortured by a lust for blood that never ceases. Their story is a winding path, that twists and turns its way through history, hidden in the bones of nature itself.
There are wolves among us. Men and women, who by day walk as you or I, but by the light of the moon, seek to satisfy a craving none are strong enough to escape. Their legends span the world over, given folkloric names -- Shapeshifter, Skinwalker, Changeling, Werewolf...
Nomadic Tribe crossing land bridge - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
The origin of the werewolf curse began some 8,000 years-ago, as an unnamed Nomadic Tribe, made up of a small group of shamanistic exiles from a larger population in Siberia, set out in search of a holy land.
Much like the pilgrims of the seventeenth century, they fled persecution. Not from kings or churches, but from those who feared their beliefs. The nomads worshipped a Mother Spirit, who they believed controlled the natural world, and many of them were attuned to elemental magic. For this, they were treated with cruelty, shunned by those who didn’t understand. So they set out.
For months they walked, using what limited skills they had to survive. But traveling across the land bridge into what would one day become the North American continent, winter found them unprepared.
Trapped in an unforgiving storm, starving, freezing, near death, the nomads turned to the sky for mercy. From a crackling fire the Mother Spirit answered. If they wished to survive, they would have to commit a desperate act. A Shifting Ritual, in which they’d consume the entire flesh and blood of an animal to claim it’s strength and abilities.
Since their deficiency was hunting, they sought the most skilled and vicious predator in the animal kingdom. Picking up the trail of a lone, male Dire Wolf -- an ancient, Ice Age predecessor to the modern wolf, the nomads tracked it to a cave in the mountains.
Hunting the Dire Wolf - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
The beast was unnaturally large, its black fur swallowing the light, and it traveled without a pack...as the species had faded from the world, nearly extinct. To find one of the last of its kind, felt like an omen that this was the creature which held their destiny. The tribe cornered it and together slaughtered the animal, immediately consuming every inch of the wolf, bones, fur, and all.
Following the ritual, the tribe noticed radical changes in their abilities, heightened senses, unnatural strength. Along with a deeper connection to nature itself. The nomads successfully captured the wolf’s essence and more. But as a fortnight passed, a horrible truth surfaced, as the spirit the tribe inherited from the uncanny beast, was cursed.
Uncontrollably, each member of the group transformed under the light of the moon, taking on characteristics of the wolf, sprouting hair, fangs, massive claws, driven by an insatiable appetite for the blood of a fresh kill.
By morning, they returned to their human forms...But each night following, the agony of the hunger returned. The tribe would run by the light of the moon as werewolves, and travel among men by day, becoming known as the Wolf Tribe.
The Wolf Tribe’s first transformation - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
Yet their curse was only part of their story. In Season One, we learned the unseen force of Magic binds the world. A living current between the natural and the supernatural. Some are born with abilities. Others are able to harness and manipulate magic from written spells and incantations...But werewolves, also known as Children of Nature, are different. They’re bound directly to the Earth itself, a dual essence of light and dark.
Every generation since the Wolf Tribe, has carried a synthesis of nature within them. Each attuned to an ancient command of one of the classic elements -- Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Sound, or Light. The last, Light, the rarest of all. And whispered in rumor, the tale of one who is said to possess all of the elemental powers.
The Elements: Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Sound, Light - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
Because of the energy living within them, werewolves should stand atop the world as supreme beings. Their connection to the Earth taps so deeply into the essence of the supernatural that it produces a purer form of magic than any other known in the universe. But existing between the vibrations of life, they’re locked in a constant state of imbalance, continually correcting, and unraveling.
The immense pang of hunger they feel, for blood, for destruction, fuels a berserk state that grows as their elemental power approaches its peak. As their strength increases, so does the pain. Until it becomes unbearable. And the only escape...is surrender, giving into their wild side. They are at their strongest when they’re most uncontrollable.
Unfortunately, werewolves are solitary in their human forms, removing themselves from civilization, knowing their affliction could rear its head at any time. Because of their reclusive nature, many go their whole lives without learning to harness their element or realizing the significance of it.
History would see the Wolf Tribe fade into legend, eroded by time. But the curse endured, passed through blood, branching through generations like twisted roots. For what reason? No one would know, except the mysterious forefathers who vanished long ago.
Luna, Florida, circa 1950 - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
Our story begins at a cross-roads. The year was 1950. Deep in the swampy expanse of Florida. Among the dense mangroves and sawgrass sat the small town of Luna. Not on any map and known only to a select few, Luna was an oasis surrounded by forty thousand acres of untouched wilderness. Picturesque streets, Modest homes. And despite being isolated, Luna had a massive perimeter. A twelve foot high reinforced concrete wall, built to keep others out, and its residence in.
Two men, walked the center of the quiet town. Jones, he’s grizzled with a long beard, and cautious eyes. With him was Uti, Native American, clean cut, carrying a weathered satchel close to his side.
Jones and Uti walking through Luna - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
UTI: It’s impressive, what you’ve built, Mister Jones.
JONES: It’s important we have a place of our own
UTI: Do you worry about urban expansion?
JONES: Middle of the swamp, this far south, no one wants to invest in any kind of serious development. That ever changes...I got more gold than Fort Knox to make sure it don’t.
Both men, were Children of Nature. Uti, a historian of sorts, was passing through, doing a census. Compiling histories, stories, and lineages of their kind -- and Luna was ripe with them. Jones led him to the town’s lone church...to meet one of it’s residence, Samuel Mundey.
JONES: A word of caution. Sam’s an old soul. Older than most if you catch my drift. And he ain’t fond of company.
Inside, Uti found Sam. Long black hair, a face carved with old scars. His age and heritage were impossible to place, vague, indistinct, as if he wasn’t an amalgam of a few ancestries, but the origin of many. And though not a man of faith, Sam spent his days alone in the church, contemplating, perhaps even hoping for forgiveness of sins of his past.
Samuel Mundey in church - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
UTI: What’s your background, Mister Mundey? Where are you from?
SAM: Same as you I suppose, just further back...you an Indian?
UTI: Indians are from India. I’m Indigenous. My heritage is Iñupiat.
SAM: From up north then. I know your people. Killed one of your gods once...an old fat one...What do you want?
UTI: I’m a historian for our kind, compiling information on our abilities, charting bloodlines.
SAM: Ain’t nothing in my blood but misery and death.
UTI: Most of us are born from those things....Children of Nature that is. And it’s kind of the point of what I’m doing. Tracing and connecting story to show we’re not alone.
Sam waved him off, disinterested. But Uti had tracked many names and histories over the years. He knew fractured pieces of the origin of the Wolf Tribe. He even knew of Sam. “The Gray One”, he was called in many legends and oral traditions.
UTI: Trapped between two worlds and belonging to neither. I think whoever you are, whatever you know, matters.
After a moment, in the stillness of that church, the old one, needing to confess to someone, decided to tell his story.
SAM: Sam’s one of my names, but not my first.
TO BE CONTINUED…