The Legend of Silas Rootwalker
The next time you take a sip of foamy, ice-cold root beer, you'll think of Silas Rootwalker, the legendary werewolf who traversed America planting its ingredients so that a war-divided continent would reunite to taste the sharp, sweet flavor of this nostalgic treat.
If the name "Johnny Appleseed" stirs nostalgia, the scent of ripe apples in September just begging to be plucked from the tree, or the warmth of sitting in a circle around a teacher retelling the legend of a man born John Chapman, you're not alone. And if you've wondered to yourself whether the man is merely a legend or if he truly lived, please know that the legend was, first and foremost, a man of unsurpassed kindness, known for his odd appearance because of the clothes he wore. Out of fashion in a way that stood out, often threadbare, obtained in trade for apple trees.
You will not likely know a similar legend of a man who, one hundred years later, used the now familiar sweet bite of root beer to unify the clans of the North American Werewolf Alliance during a time when you could still smell the gun smoke in the air and the blood in the clover.
One hundred years after John Chapman made his name spreading the sweetness of apple trees across America, Silas Huskey never returned from a war that rent brother from brother. Instead, he followed in John Chapman's footsteps. Except that along the way, Silas Rootwalker as he became known, planted a different kind of sweetness.
In the Southeast, he planted Sarsaparilla. In the Northeast, Sassafras. As he moved Westward, Silas planted Licorice. And as he traversed the continent, he brought roots with him. An ingredient from the south. One from the North. Another from the West. And as he went, he taught the people he met how to combine these ingredients into something sweet with just a hint of bite.
As Silas Rootwalker planted seeds that would grow into the roots that built the aromatic summer favorite called root beer, he also planted unity where once had been divisiveness.
The Man Who Became Called Silas Rootwalker
The son of an Alpha who fought in the War of 1812 for a country he said was "still worth believing in back then," the pack had high hopes for Silas. Years after his father returned from war, wounded and recovering, to a pack that loved and admired him, his Luna had finally given him a son.
Silas was born strong, with a healthy cry that warmed his mother's tired heart with dreams of his howl one day unify the Appalachian packs under the Huskey Clan. As mothers are wont to do, she planned his entire life for him, even as his father noticed that Silas was... different. Kind to a fault, intelligent, but too quiet for the only boy born to an alpha, the heir to the pack's leadership, the hope of a new clan within the territory.
Little Silas was observant, gentle, and knew how to solve problems. Members of the pack learned to come to him for help, and he always found ways to make sure everybody left the Alpha's den better than they came.
As people do, they whispered. Omega they said behind their hands. Some voices cracked with grief. The Alpha and Luna had tried so hard and only had one whelp. Others bore the sour edge of gossip so sharp his mother could taste it on her tongue. More and more, she sheltered him, keeping him away from his peers until a lonely hole blossomed in Silas's heart.
The First Moment of Defiance
Alphas didn't rebel. They weren't perfectly obedient puppets, but they learned which buttons they could push and which they couldn't. So when Silas left the den to which he had been confined, looking not for friends but for ways he could help his people, his mother didn't raise her voice. She quietly bristled. Then she turned her back on him.
It went that way for a while. The Luna stopped talking to him, and Silas stopped thinking of her as his mother. His father, ever hopeful and ever proud, an elder by the time the War Between Brothers began, held onto hope that his son would somehow change. He stopped the whispers in their tracks with firm words. "A great alpha serves his people first and foremost. My son will be a great alpha."
A great alpha listens to his people in service. My son will make a great alpha one day."
Conscription & Service
Silas didn't volunteer because he knew the side he lived on was on the wrong side of the war. The reins his mother kept on him stopped him from moving North, taking up the mantle of a Union Soldier. He'd have volunteered for that cause. Instead, he was conscripted, brought into the midst of what was, up to that point, the worst war in American history, with too many casualties on both sides.
The war sickened Silas. Unlike his human counterparts, he could smell the coppery tang of blood in the air, could hear the screams of his dying friends from miles away. His soft heart wept for every soldier killed in battle, every soul he had known even a little bit. And, in typical Silas way, he spent more time with the cooks than he did with his fellow soldiers.
He did something that few of his peers had ever done. Something he'd learned from his alpha father. Something that had disappointed his mother but had caused his father to see the potential for greatness in him. Silas listened to their stories. With empathy in his heart and the long-practiced quiet of a man truly interested in learning, he listened to the stories of slaves and former slaves forced to serve in an army fighting to keep their rights to own Black men as property.
We are wild beings, we wolves are. It is hard to imagine a world in which humans are not allowed to be as free as we are wild. We must always be willing to do our own work and not rely on another to do what we should have done in the first place. Our Omegas are as free and as wild as our Alphas are, and if each of us has our place, it is by natural design. I see nothing in the natural design of humanity that says a man with black skin should have to bear the load of one with pale skin.
Over and over again, Silas heard their stories of grief. Mothers torn from their children, children sold as property, people forced into labor as though they had no needs of their own. If his heart had never been opened before, Silas's heart opened to the stories of heartbreak that sent a cold chill through his bones.
And for the first time in his life, anger blossomed in Silas Huskey. Anger that he was forced to fight to keep people enslaved. Anger that his mother had held him captive to her own desires for him. Anger that she would allow his people to suffer for her own pride.
Rebirth
Silas Huskey died in battle on a rainy Saturday in March of 1865. He was 23 years old and had served three years in the Confederate Army. Like many, his body was interred without ceremony. His parents were informed. And the war marched along to its ultimate end, the Union victory and the beginning of what might, one day in a distant century, become true freedom for Black slaves and their descendants.
Northward, a new man emerged into West Virginia, a state that had freshly joined the Union cause. His father wouldn't live long enough to learn that his son lived under a new name. With him, the pack died, disintegrating into other packs, some families traveling north and finding their way to West Virginia.
Silas Rootwalker never reconnected with those members of his former pack. But they heard of him. And while they never met the man who would become a legend for his unique way of uniting a nation stripped of its principles by war, some of them would whisper: "Is this Lone Wolf really the Silas Rainwater we once knew?"
The Legend
The story grew, as stories do. Small details become legends, and by the time the legend of Silas Rootwalker had become a tale enjoyed by pups around the hearthfire, the man had been long buried beneath the icy frost of the Yukon Territory by his Métis friends.
Wolves remember him, though. Every time a stray youngster wanders into their territory, they remember the legend. Silas's legend reminds them to be kind to the strays and the sigmas, and that not every wolf alone is destined to wither or become hollow. In time, rootbeer was the official drink offered to wandering youngsters, even before they were offered a warm bowl of the lupine favorite: Stew.
The Brew (or: How to make Root Beer, a Recipe)
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The various clans of the North American Werewolf Alliance have different brews they use for their root beer. Its use is virtually universal: A way to welcome youngsters back into the fold when they have gone astray, whether the youngsters who have always belonged to the pack or orphaned or abandoned youngsters found wandering in the wilds. Root beer is the consistent reminder among the wolves that all are one and that the pack is of the utmost importance.
The following recipe is common among the clans living in the Tennessee Smoky Mountains Territory.
Please remember that root beer is made to your own taste preferences and that different roots may be used. Sassafras is traditional, but many modern root beers have replaced sassafras with sarsaparilla. You may use one or the other, but a combination of both provides the best flavor. I've included some other suggested roots or barks you can include in your root beer if you prefer. The following will make a little less than one gallon of root beer.
You will need the following things, all available on Amazon:
- One-Gallon Mason Jars
- One-Quart Mason Jars
- Cheesecloth
- Root Beer Bottles for Bottling
- A Stock Pot for Brewing
In addition, you will need the following ingredients, also available on Amazon (but feel free to forage your own if you know what you're looking for!):
- Sassafrass Root Bark
- Sarasaparilla Root Bark
- Licorice Root Bark
- Fresh Ginger Root
- Brown Sugar
- White Sugar
Note About Water
You want your water as pure as you can get it. This means that you'll need to have a good filtration system in place. Brita can reduce the amount of chlorine in your water, but you'll want a Reverse Osmosis System to get the clearest water possible for making soda or doing any other kind of brewing (wink wink!). If you don't feel that you need to get either, please purchase Distilled Water to get the most out of your soda. This water should be practically without flavor, which means the flavors you choose for your root beer will shine through the best!
Getting Started
The first thing you'll want to do is create your soda culture. There are multiple ways to make your root beer fizzy, but this is the one I like (probably since the first soda I made was ginger ale, huh?). This works a lot like creating a sourdough starter, and this is what your fresh ginger and your white sugar are for.
First, grate your ginger. I use a zester for this, as it grates the ginger very finely. Grate enough so that you have one tablespoon of ginger.
Then, fill a one-quart mason jar to 3/4 full with your filtered or distilled water and add the one tablespoon of ginger plus one tablespoon of granulated (white) sugar to the jar. Cover it with a cheesecloth (hold it on tightly with a rubber band).
You will now feed your ginger bug once per day by adding one tablespoon of ginger and two tablespoons of sugar to it for one week before creating your soda.
When the soda culture is ready, then you're ready to make your root beer!
Making the Root Beer
Fill your stock pot with about half a gallon of water, then add two tablespoons each of your roots (Sassafras, Sarsaparilla, and Licorice roots). Bring the pot to the boil, then turn it down to simmer for about 20 minutes. After simmering, add in your 1 1/2 cups of brown sugar. Stir this in and then allow the mixture to steep for several hours.
At this point, you may taste the brew. If you feel it needs something, you may brew more of your roots and add them to your pot, or increase the amount of sugar.
If you're happy with what you've created, you may strain the mixture through cheesecloth into your gallon jar. Add your soda culture (the ginger bug) and then add cold water up to the top of the jar. Stir well, then leave the jar out on the counter with a cheesecloth cover and wait.
You will need to stir your mixture 2-3 times per day. After about 3 days, you should notice that the mixture is bubbling. This is because microorganisms are eating the sugar in the mixture and creating gas. This is called "fermentation." The longer the brew ferments, the drier it will be, so if you want a sweet root beer, bottle it after 3 days. If you want a drier (less sweet) root beer, bottle it after 7 days.
To bottle, strain the mixture again, then use a funnel to fill the sealable bottles you purchased for this purpose. Pour the strained mixture into the bottles and seal them well. The mixture will be fizzy when you open it, so be careful when opening the seals on one of your bottles!
I hope you love the root beer and that the next time you enjoy some of this heady foam, you think of Silas Rootwalker and his effort to bring unity back to the States following the Civil War*. * Silas Rootwalker is an entirely fictional person, based loosely on the story of Johnny Appleseed and created to fill a niche in the world's story of how its packs bring in stray youngsters (of which there are far too many) and gives them a taste of unity.
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