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The Midnight Wolf
I whirl around on my heel and face a big, brooding Wolf. Fur black as night, eyes Golden as corn. He’s only standing a few fern’s length away. The midnight Wolf looks innocent, so I back away keeping my eye On his jaws, waiting for a hungry growl. As I walk away from him, I spot a marking painted into his fur. It is a white, equal-armed cross. The sign of Musuyidee, A symbol of strength and spiritual balance. This Wolf belongs to the Honiahaka tribe, more commonly known as the Wolf people. Upon the realization of his relevance I quickly bow, and he puts his head down in return. I remember the small bit of meat in my parfleche in turn cautiously to take it out, this Wolf is still prepared to protect himself if I turn out to be a threat. But as I pull out the meat, he perks up his ears and lifts his snout to smell. I toss the food at his paws and in an instant, he snatches it up, still wary of my presence. I can tell I have earned his trust as he turns back in the direction of home. Enjoying this moment of peace, watching the Wolf lope away, I lace up my parfleche and stand up just as the sun disappears over the horizon.
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In Language Arts we had to write a short story about an Indigenous person in the woods traveling and discovering something. Me having an undying love for wolves, I decided it would be appropriate to include a wolf in my short story. It's not my best work, but it's something.
Note:
A parfleche is the native term for "bag"