Wolves

They fell, each red, gold, brown and yellow leaf twirling about on a frigid breeze. Winter was full upon us, yet there was no snow… The skies had been gray and empty for weeks, the sun hasn’t been seen since September. The grass, it was the first to fall beneath Winter’s spell, turning a sickly shade of brown and gray. Each step crunching like egg shells, the earth hard as rock. The late blooming flowers never sprouted, the world was left without their miraculous colors.
The leaves… They were the last colors we had, then they too fell, one, by, one. But I’ve been counting the days until they return. Not the leaves, but the wolves. Sometimes when I wait up at night, long after my mother has told me to blow out my candle and sleep, I can hear them. Wolves, out there in the cold wilds, running free to the steady drumming of their hearts. I wonder what it’s like to be so free… I’ve never seen a wolf before, my teacher says I’ll be lucky if I never do and to never ask of it again. I don’t know why the village is so fearful of the wolves, men patrolling the perimeter every night now, their iron rifles loaded, beards frosted with breath ice.
Tonight, I’ve stayed awake again, hoping beyond all hope that I hear their crying in the night. I listen to the house creaking, the wind rocks the place gently on every gust of arctic wind. I listen as my mother goes up the stairs to her bedroom, her steps light and soft on the worn floors. I can hear my own heartbeat I was listening so intently!
Then, I heard them. The first lamentation echoed over the empty fields, a howl of sorrowful isolation. Every moment was an eternity before the first was answered, a low cry mimicking the intense sadness. I couldn’t stand it anymore!
I crept from bed, my jacket and boots waiting for me on my corner post. I had to see one of these wolves! I was glad to have my bed on the earth level of our house, I would have never made it down the old stairs without waking mother. I pulled the door open and right closed again, my feet standing on the frozen rug stuck fast to the ground outside. I ran from shadow to shadow, knowing all the while that the men would shoot should they even catch a glimpse of me. Soon enough I was on the edge of the village, my heart pounding furiously from the pure danger.
I loved it.
One last obstacle lay between me and my howling quarry… The fields. All sides of the village held an expanse of farmland, the moon illuminating every little thing. I ran. My feet flew over the jagged dirt, still torn up from the last turning, behind me was the village, no lanterns gleamed, no shots rang out. Still I ran. The trees loomed closer, branches reaching out to the night sky. A howl floated out into the air, much louder than when I hear it through the walls of my home.
I stopped running, my heart beating ever faster even as I walked through the trees. I had no sense of time save for the howling. I counted my steps between every cry, 93, 76, 57, 31, 15… Each was louder and shorter than the last, sounding less like a song every time. A blast of wind blew up a million leaves into the air, swirling around me in a wild twister! When it settled, I brushed them off, cursing the empty air. A skeletal bush rustled, I looked up. A pair of green orbs stared back at me. I turned, looking around the clearing, more and more of these floating lights were appearing in all sorts of green, yellow and gold.
My heart slowed, the world around me seemed to burst with a new sense of smells, warmth and color. Even in the dark, I saw the individual leaves, each blade of grass, and now, the wolves. The first pair of green lights I saw belonged to one of them, it stepped forward, still staring right into me, its coat was a shining silver, gleaming to reflect the moonlight that had decided to burst through the cloud cover once again. really, it looked like a rugged, skinny, big dog... What is there to be afraid of here? I reached out my bare hand, I wasn't cold at all, I don't think I'll ever be cold again...