Listen closely little ones, for this tale is the core of our history and lore.
Long long ago in a time before the Tall Ones, our people lived in the hills and fields at the edges of the Earth. We were a content people. The grass was enough, the sun was enough and our females were plenty. But there was a price to pay for Paradise, the price of Desolation. For soon there were many of our kind upon the Earth and soon all the grass and sun were not enough.
The wolves saw the Despair of the sheep, and an opportunity for themselves.
“Sheep,” the Lord of Wolves said, “we are both destroyed by the price of fecundity. For as you starve, my kind starves as well. Let me offer a treaty for our survival. Let us take our chance to hunt you each night.”
At first our ancestors could only reply with Dismay. But in the throes of their decline they came to see the wisdom of the wolves. Each night, they offered one of their own until the grasses returned.
The bargain has held since then, even through the Reign of the Tall Ones, and even when wolves became dogs and forgot their way.
But the Tall Ones are gone now, buried in fire and ash and in lush grasses.
And now, we are too many again.
And now, we begin the sacrifices of the night once more.