Lone Wolf

At first glance the dark silhouette looked like a ghost hovering beyond the forest’s edge. Still as the moist air that hugged the earth, the grayish-black image nearly blended into the moonless night. Almost. It was the eyes that gave it away; the campfire’s dim reflection illuminating two yellow flames.

I stood up slowly, hoping not to portray aggression, and stared back with a mixture of excitement that tried to overcome the growing fear welling up within. A number of possibilities raced through my mind as I fought to stay calm. The lack of breeze was a thankful gift, as the stench of my fear was rank and would have affirmed to any creature of the land how weak and defenseless I felt.

The ghost moved. It appeared to flow as it approached without haste, gliding along the blackness like a shadow hugging the ground. It stopped just within the farthest reach of the fire’s glow.

The lone male wolf was the largest I had ever seen and his eyes burned with a keen intelligence that commanded my attention. The only variation in the nearly all black coat was a light gray strip running from crown to the back of his neck. It gave the impression of a lion’s mane. This was truly a majestic beast, I thought, and for the moment awe had overcome fear.

While I was appraising him, he appeared calm in my presence, showed no outward fear of me or hint toward aggression. If he had been hungry I would have been attacked, ravaged and done for by now.  It occurred to me that he was trying to decide whether to come closer and make contact or to silently move back into the safety of the night.

I sat down slowly, never breaking eye contact until I was fully seated. Only then did I turn my attention to the fire, as if the wolf’s presence had been nothing more than a figment of my imagination. But inside was a different matter altogether. I was afraid. Terribly afraid. I knew I couldn’t reach the rifle in my pack back in the tent before this child of the wilderness could overtake me and bring me down with its massive jaws.

I sensed movement more than saw it at the extreme corner of my vision. I almost gagged on the rush of bile into my throat. With a heart thumping like a host of tribal drums that had gone wild with fear, I waited for the intruder to decide my fate. With barely a sound from padded paws, he entered the campfire’s protective radius opposite of where I sat, so that the flames become a temporary mediator between us. Several times the lone black dipped his head to ground, sniffing about for answers to his next move. With eyes never leaving mine, he began the trek over to my side. How could such a massive creature move this quietly, I wanted to scream? The roar of the fire and the blood coursing through my temples were all I could hear.

I slowly rotated on my buttox to meet the monster face to face. If I was to die this night, I wanted to be facing my executioner. It wasn’t bravery. It  was no longer fear that held me fixated before my doom. Only curiosity and apathy toward what was out of my control calmed my blood.

The beast stopped a few feet away from me, enormous, as tall as I was sitting down. Above its left eye a horizontal scar glistened in red ooze against the dour fur. How lucky it had been not to have lost the eye.

Then it did what I never would have expected, could never have prepared for: it laid down on its belly and looked behind me, off in the darkness like a family hound. Silent. Watchful. Indifferent of my presence.

Dumbfounded, I could think of nothing better to do then to stare back. It had been hours since I cooked the evening meal of fresh-caught rabbit, so I had nothing to offer it for this peaceful parlay. As if reading my mind and wishing to allay my concern, the wolf snuffed between its paws and continued to ignore me. I wanted to believe I made a new friend, no matter how unlikely that may be.

I stood up slowly, watching for signs of treachery. He looked at me for only as long as it took for our eyes to meet. I took a couple of cautious steps to my bedroll, which had been behind me, unrolled it and laid it out on the fire-warmed grass. Slowly I covered myself beneath the fine wool cover and stared at him in silence.

After a time the wolf turned its gaze back to me. I did not witness cruel eyes, nor were they eyes looking upon prey or such eyes as hunger controls. In them I saw the simple desire to no longer be alone, to be a part of another’s life so that its own life could have greater meaning. I saw that it understood my own loneliness, my own need for companionship. As if satisfied I understood, it returned its attention to the night, comfortable with its decision and mine. My last thought, before succumbing to sleep, was how neither of us would ever have to be alone again.
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