The woman walked with purpose. Every movement told her story. She was hunched over from the wind and cold, slowly creeping along like a small child sneaking a midnight snack. Her only companion a lone wolf lurking in the shadows. She was crying ever so softly, the tears falling lightly on her scarf and disappearing into the billowy fabric. Little did she know, the wolf she saw viciously dismembering her friend just hours earlier was the same wolf stalking her every step. He smelled the last bit of jerky in her left front pocket. She didn’t even know it was there.
It happened before she could register the furry mass spring forth and bite down on her leg. Quickly, and mindlessly, she ripped open her pocket knife and slashed the wolf across the jaw. She didn’t stop there. She stabbed him over and over until the snow under her feet turned a murderous red. This was a fatal mistake. Before the slash that ended it all for that wolf he cried out to his brethren, lurking somewhere near. He knew he would not make it. He called to his brothers to make sure that the being he fell to, the one of them that was not meant to be in the North, fell as well.
The woman kept walking. She did not want to stop for if she did she would realize what she had done and she would feel the pain of the wolf’s bite. The jerky, still in her left front pocket, went untouched. Had she stopped and looked around instead of aimlessly wandering, she might have noticed the nine wolves encircling her from the back and sides. She stopped. She heard a low snarling sound behind her that only meant one thing. Wolves. She wanted to run but the rage at the thought of her friend dying at the hands of one of these wolves kept her feet planted firmly in the snow. ‘Try me’ her eyes beckoned. The wolves obliged. She slashed and slashed and she managed to subdue them. That’s when she found the jerky. She tore it into nine pieces and threw it into nine different directions then took off in a run. Eight wolves ran off after the jerky, but one did not. That one wolf was smarter than the rest. He knew what she was trying to do and would not fall for it. He ran after the woman and ran right in front of her. He stopped in her path. She knew she should run but something told her to stay. The look in the wolf’s eyes was not of malice but of compassion. He began to briskly walk towards a mountain ridge and the woman followed. Her leg was bleeding heavily and she knew he would not harm her.
This wolf was different from his pack. He had watched his brothers ruthlessly kill anything that moved whether deserving or not. He had come from a loving family for he was not a wolf but a husky. He joined the wolves when he ran away from his affectionate Canadian family in search of a certain freedom only the wild would bring. He had learned to forget his compassionate ways but something in this terrified woman, maybe her moxie, reminded him of his previous owner’s daughter, whom he loved dearly. He was bringing her to a cave he had found in the mountain pass when he first came to this land. He knew he wouldn’t be able to mask her scent for long so he needed to work fast. He would probably be killed for this action. Going against the pack was unheard of.
The wolf led her to his cavern then left and came back with two dead squirrels and some moss hanging from his mouth. He pushed them over to her. At first she thought the wolf was crazy. If she rubbed the squirrel on her it would attract the wolves more but when she looked at them closer she understood. The squirrels fur was stringy and they were deathly skinny. They were disease ridden. If she rubbed that blood on herself the wolves wouldn’t go near her and the moss would cover her wound. She silently thanked the wolf and cut open the squirrels, rubbing her jacket with their blood.
The wolf knew he could not stay with her, but if he left she wouldn’t last very long. He left the next morning.
The woman became paranoid. Every movement, every sound, she drew her knife. She wouldn’t go outside the cavern, so she didn’t eat for days. One week after she first went into hiding she received an unfriendly visitor. She awoke to a wolf, the leader of the pack she thought, snarling above her, spit dripping on her face. She didn’t scream when he bit her. She didn’t gasp when he tore her apart. She had no energy, no life left. She was already dead before she was killed. The wolf ripped and slashed and showed no mercy. She didn’t belong there. This was his territory, and he was determined to keep it.