The Wolf

The Wolf

Once upon a time — grrrr — he hated these stories. But sitting around the open fire in the cosy cottage, surrounded by the family of choice he loved, he found he didn’t mind them at all — especially when the children asked for the forest story.

“Tell us again,” they begged. “Tell us about the forest. Tell us when you met Grandma and Mama — tell us, tell us.”

The old male wolf remembered the time when the weather had begun to change, when the forest floor was turning wet and slippery, and the first snowflakes were not far away. Some forest dwellers enjoyed the snow-covered ground, but he had always disliked it. Finding food required skill, patience, and resilience even in good conditions; when all obvious signs of plentiful resources disappeared, it became far harder. And when it was cold and wet, he struggled to find a place to sleep where he could keep warm, where no other animal would compete for the same space, and — most importantly — where he could feel safe.

Winter was close; he could smell it. His fur had already started to thicken and puff up to trap warmth, bringing with it a sense of loneliness. This was not a time when an attractive she-wolf searched for a mate. Honestly, he was too old. Without needing to look, he knew his muzzle had turned grey. In a world where success depended on youth, vigour, and strength, his scrawny frame lacked the visible brawn that might persuade a young she-wolf to curl up beside him through the depths of winter and coyly promise to mate in spring.

He stood beside a clump of bushes, diligently sniffing for clues about who or what might be nearby. The investigation yielded little of interest. He sighed.

Then his ears twitched. He lifted his once-handsome face, raised his nose as high as he could, and inhaled deeply. As he drew in the scent of whatever was approaching, he also heard footsteps. The sound, combined with the smell, told him instantly this was not a forest dweller. He tilted his head, frowning as he tried to interpret what was coming his way.

It was a human.

He turned as quickly as his arthritic legs allowed and tried to hide behind the bushes that had led him to this spot. In his haste, abandoning his usual caution, there was a loud crack. He let out a sharp yelp, the sound escaping before he could stop it — pure shock and pain. Worse still, he had failed to get out of sight of the track. He was trapped, fully exposed and unable to move.

He heard footsteps quickening, rushing towards him. His heart pounded, partly from the terrible pain and partly from fear. He could feel his strength slowly ebbing away.

He caught a flash of bright red wrapped around a small human — much smaller than any he had seen before. Humans were to be avoided at all costs. They were known to attack at the very sight of one of his kind. They carried long sticks that made a loud bang, and Rufus vividly remembered the red blood pouring from his mother’s head. As he ran in sheer terror, he knew she was dead — and that he would be too if they caught him.

He lay where he was, panting with pain, watching the blood slowly seep from his leg. He knew he could still growl ferociously to frighten her away — and then, perhaps, plan his escape.

But she stayed where she was, still speaking in that gentle voice, and he found himself less inclined to use the deep, rough growl that would surely send her running.

“Oh, you poor old boy,” she said softly. “I can see you’re in pain, but you must promise not to attack me. I want to help — may I come closer?”

Oh, the pain. Please don’t hurt me any more, he thought.

She sank to her knees and, softly crooning, began to crawl towards him. He stared at her in utter bewilderment.

Humans did not usually speak to his kind. Yet here he lay, paralysed with pain on the forest floor, allowing a human to approach. His heart began to beat faster and louder as an internal battle raged — until, slowly, he surrendered to the truth that he had very few choices left.

She kept murmuring in that gentle voice, and to his surprise, he found it reassuring.

“Would you like some water? If I can help you relax a little, I might be able to spring the trap — though I don’t quite trust you yet.”

Was he imagining this? Could he really understand what the little human was saying? Perhaps he was delirious. Perhaps he was dying. But if this was his last breath, he might as well see whether she could understand him too.

“I would appreciate some water,” he said in his deep wolf voice.

“Wow — I can understand you!” she said, delighted, showing no fear at all at the thought of a conversation with a wolf.

Still on her knees, she crawled to the basket she had left a few feet away. Then, returning quickly, she took a small container from it and inched closer to him.

“I’m going to hold your head up so I can pour some water into you. Will that be all right?”

“Yes,” he replied, still surprised by his newly acquired voice.

She crept nearer, lifted his head, and gently dripped the welcoming liquid into his dry mouth.

“I’m on my way to my grandmother’s. Can I leave you — cover you with bushes to keep you safe — and fetch some tools from Grandma to spring the trap? My grandma is a lovely, lovely person, and she will help us. We’ll get you out of there, don’t worry.”

She dabbed a little more water onto his tongue, and he swallowed gratefully, gazing at her with deep appreciation. Then she gathered loose branches from the forest floor and carefully covered him, reassuring him that she would return as soon as she could.

*********

About an hour later, he heard voices — a high, gentle one answered by an older, wise voice, clear and lively.

“He’s just nearby, Grandma. Let’s look for the bushes.”

“Does he have a name?” asked the older voice.

“Oooh — I didn’t ask,” said the child.

“Mr Wolf — oh, Mr Wolf — are you there?” called Grandma.

Moments earlier, he had felt close to losing the will to go on, but at the sound of her wise, caring voice, hope surged through his injured, weakening body. He understood her perfectly and, without hesitation, opened his mouth and called out:

“Grandma, Grandma — I’m here.”

He could hardly believe it. He was still able to speak to the humans.

The bushes were gently parted, and there stood an older woman with her young grandchild.

“Hello. I’m here to help,” she said, her voice both practical and caring. With that, she placed a warm woolly blanket over him, set a metal toolbox at her feet, and crouched to choose her tools.

“Be ready, Emiline,” she said calmly. “Help me pull the trap away as soon as it opens.”

Then, looking with gentle concern into his eyes, she added:

“This may hurt, Mr Wolf — but it’s the best we can do.”

Emiline stroked his head softly.

“Be brave, Mr Wolf.”

The trap snapped open with a cold, metallic crack, and the wolf sensed rather than saw Emiline leap forward to drag it away.

“Thank you… thank you,” he said feebly.

Grandma immediately began to clean and dress the wound.

“Emiline, cuddle close to Mr Wolf to keep him warm. He’s started to shiver — pull the blanket over him.”

The wolf curled into Emiline’s warmth while Grandma worked swiftly and efficiently, wrapping the badly injured leg. With the firm bandage in place, it was clear the agonising pounding had begun to ease.

“All right, Mr Wolf,” she said at last. “I’m going to leave Emiline with you while I fetch some food and more water. Then we’ll work out how to get you back to my cottage.”

Later, Grandma arrived, dragging a makeshift stretcher — two sturdy sticks with a length of heavy cloth stretched between them — and carrying the extra equipment they needed in backpacks.

“We’re going to stay here for the night, Mr Wolf,” she said. “Then tomorrow, when you’re feeling a little better, we’ll use the stretcher to bring you back to my cottage.”

Rufus felt tears begin to stream down his grey-muzzled face.

“I’ve always been told to dislike humans and never to trust them,” he said softly. “But you two have been wonderful.”

“It’s the same for us, Mr Wolf,” Grandma replied. “I was raised on a story about a grandmother and her granddaughter being eaten by a wolf. So we were taught to fear wolves, too — but you have been nothing but kind. And strangest of all, you speak our language.”

Grandma set up a small camp, carefully lighting and tending the fire. She prepared a simple yet delicious supper, flavoured with forest herbs. After checking the progress of his wound, the two humans curled around the wolf to keep him warm — and before long, all three drifted peacefully to sleep.

Grandma proved to be very strong. She dragged and pushed the inert wolf onto the stretcher and, with Emiline’s help, they hauled him through the forest. At last, they reached Grandma’s cottage, surrounded by a generous garden of fruit, vegetables, and flowers. As the wolf lifted his head from the stretcher and breathed deeply, the scents of the garden washed over him, carrying the promise of peace and happiness. Gratitude — and something very much like love — rose within him, and he bravely fought back the tears threatening to soak his old grey face.

*********

“As you know, Grandma and I lived in this cottage for many years,” said Rufus. “Emiline — your mama — grew into adulthood, married your papa, and eventually had children of her own.”

“This was us, wasn’t it, Uncle Rufus?” one of them asked.

“Yes, my little one. This was you and your brother. We all lived happily together.”

“Tell us why Grandma moved on.”

“Grandma was a wonderful, strong woman, and we all loved her. But she grew ill and decided it was time for her to rest. She promised she would always keep an eye on us — that she would be there if ever we were lonely, or sad, or simply wanting to share our happiness.”

“Will you join Grandma one day, Uncle Rufus?”

“Yes, of course. Grandma looked after me when I was injured, and as I grew older. She made it very clear that whenever I am ready, I am to join her. Together we will watch over our lovely family and see them grow.”

“All right, children,” Emiline said softly. “It’s time to let dear old Uncle Rufus sleep. Bedtime.”

She paused for a moment.

“Are you all right, Rufus? You do look tired.”

“Yes, I’m well,” he said. “But before long I will join Grandma — and I hope you heard how much I’m looking forward to seeing her again, and helping her keep an eye on her growing brood.”

Emiline turned out the light and let the ageing wolf settle. And by the time dawn broke across the sky, he had quietly chosen to join Grandma.