Elder Wolf
S.L. Armstrong
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2009 by S.L. Armstrong
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Storm Moon Press
5705 Fishermans Drive
Bradenton, FL 34209
http://www.stormmoonpress.com/
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Cover artist: Virginie Merienne
Elder Wolf
From the darkness came a low growl, and silver eyes shone in the gloom. The old man lifted his eyes from his book and peered into the blackness of the doorway to his room. The eyes flashed in the orange firelight like quicksilver, and the man felt his heart begin to race with fear. With unblinking eyes, he watched the massive gray wolf stalk into his bedchambers. It made no sound as its paws almost glided across the floorboard, but the man continued to gaze in fear at the prowling beast.
He yelped, the sound shrill in the stifling silence, and cowered as the wolf effortlessly leaped atop the bed. The wolf approached the man carefully, warily, its eyes taking in the withered form of the frightened human. With each step the animal took, the closer it came, the man became more and more aware that this beast was somehow familiar. Not in the way of a hunter faced with long-escaped prey – he had not hunted wolves for many years – but the warm silvery eyes gave him comfort, soothed his trembling spirit. When the wolf was close enough that the man could smell its hot breath and inhale the fur’s woody scent, a flash of memory split his age-battered mind.
The old man relaxed into the softness of his pillows, his weary bones cushioned by the feather mattress, and patted the space next to him. “Come,” he said quietly. “Lay beside me.”
The wolf’s ears twitched and its large muzzle cracked into what reminded the man of a lopsided grin. The great beast collapsed beside him with a tired groan and rested its ample head in the man’s lap. A sense of calm enveloped the human as he began to pet the wolf’s thick, storm-colored pelt. The reassuring scent of the beast took him back through time to a boyhood he had almost forgotten.
He began softly, finding the rhythm in the words as he stroked his unexpected night-time companion.
“Listen, my friend, as I tell you a tale
Of a young boy, tall, handsome and hale –
Who came upon a love devoted and true
In the forest among the birch and the yew.
“Long ago, Elder Wolf, did this story unfold,
And there is so much that has never been told.
“Twas when summer’s love at last did wane,
And winter rose to be all men’s bane,
That this young one, with fear in his heart
Into the bitter cold was forced to depart…”
***
He was hungry, hungrier than his baby sisters, since he would not take food from the mouths of those in his charge. He was a man, the only man in their house now, and he would do without so that his sisters would not know the pain of hunger. It was the threat of utter starvation that drove him out into the coming blizzard.
Their tiny village had suffered a harsh winter: ice, bare branches, lean meat, and poor crops. His father had died in the early autumn, leaving behind spoiled fields, diseased livestock, and six children. Faolan was the eldest at eighteen summers. His mother was sickly herself, and his sisters were too small to hunt, plant, or gather. Their mediocre root cellar had gone bare within a month of the first snowfall. They had made do with the little dried meat neighbors had given them and the few frozen root vegetables he dug from the failing garden. The stew was not filling, but it offered sustenance and staved off death. Now, however, even that was spent.
Faolan trudged through the snow, his feet bound in thin leather, and wondered if he would ever feel warm again. He clutched a small hunting knife in his numbed hand as he walked closer to the foreboding wood. His heart hammered in his breast. No one in the village hunted in the Cursed Wood, but the prospect of fresh game drew Faolan to the border of the forest.
As he stood in the whipping, biting wind that cut through his rags and chilled him to the bone, he thought of returning to the warm cottage where his family awaited his arrival. But they expected him to bring food, and it was the memory of their hungry, hopeful gazes that made him cross the line of trees and enter the shadowy woods. The wind was not so strong when he was in the safety of the trees, but the cold stillness sent a new shiver through his frozen body. He tread cautiously, his eyes darting around the white landscape of trees and shrubs, searching for some kind of animal life -- rabbit, gopher, even a lame bird -- anything to boil and offer his family.
Amid the falling snow, harsh wind, and the ice-laden boughs of the trees above, Faolan wandered for hours without realizing the time that passed. His lips turned blue and his teeth chattered, frightening any animal within hearing distance. The boy’s movements became sluggish and his eyes drooped. He finally stopped to rest for a moment. He chose a hollow tree, tucking himself safely in the nook, and decided to wait for the storm to blow over. As sleep washed over him, he felt warm and content. Just before his eyes slipped shut, Faolan swore he saw the figure of a large dog bound toward him. But he was too drowsy to care if the beast had come to devour him.
Faolan slowly woke. His limbs were heavy, but he was warm -- so warm that it was almost uncomfortable. His mother must have become chill in the night and fed the fire. He would have to speak to her about that -- their wood supply was limited and they needed to be wiser about its use. He rolled over and stretched, draping his arm over the warm body snuggling against his naked belly.
The warm, fur-covered body.
His eyes shot open and he drew away from whatever lay against him. He cried out as his back met with a solid form, hot and furry. Wolves. Massive gray wolves were sleeping in a circle around him, offering him warmth. Faolan’s breathing was ragged with fear as he searched for a way to escape the ring of wolves without disturbing any of them.