To the Wolves

Written 8 November 2017

One night, in an act of desperation and extreme sorrow, I literally threw myself to the wolves. Just after midnight, I ran, leaving my shoes and cloak behind. I continued deep into the forest until I was exhausted and my toes were numb. Lost, tired, and melancholy I curled up against a stump and watched for the glint if yellow-green eyes.

When they finally arrived, my eyelids were heavy and I was shivering. The first to approach me was black as the night around me. As such, the only part of him I could see clearly was his eyes. We looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, and eventually he walked up and lay himself down next to me. At that, the rest of the pack followed suit, and I fell asleep in the midst of a living blanket.

This was only the first surprise, for when I woke, I discovered not only did they have no wish to end my life, but they could speak. I discovered this shortly after waking, as the night-colored wolf asked me if I was warm enough.

After my initial shock wore off, I told the pack my story, and they accepted me as one of them. For the wolves were all once like me, and the dark one who approached me was the first, a sorcerer who’d wanted true separation from mankind. They taught me how to change form and I have been running with them ever since.

One night, I threw myself to the wolves, only to learn of their gentleness.