Crying Wolf

Crying Wolf

A Story by Ray
"

Grandfather claims it's the same wolf, the one that was there in 1912, now announcing something drastic in 1938...

"

The wind covered the land with white snow and frozen water. The blooming crystals seemed to stretch on forever, over hills, on plateaus, through the trees, and round the river bends. Perfectly smooth and pure. Nothing for miles round, and occasionally coming across a small village with a covered up road, invisible to the eye, that would be unknown to strangers, which was most likely one of the reasons why there were none in these parts. Up there, in these northern regions, the earth became cold, strinkingly cold. There was nothing that was soft and agreeable except within the walls of a home. Smoke came constantly during the year from the chimneys, except during the climax of summer, when the weather was warmest. Even then, fires would be litted just for the night. Such was the still world of Alaska.

Not often were they seen, the wild animals roaming this pale desert, scouting the pine forests or the hills meant to be grassy. White bears were mostly further up north, even upon the hat of the earth which remains unchanging but for in these latter years. The Grizzlies roamed more often some way south, but not often encountered, and most of the time, hunted. Their numbers becoming few in the passing times. Herbivores mostly could be found, and this, however, could be only near the summer months, for most of the time, they went back south, or towards the easterns side of the continent where grass and leaves are. It is therefore only logical that wolves travel they too, where the deers do go, and thus, Ruben was surprised, when one evening, he perceived the figure of what seemed a wolf, near the trees, close to his house. Ruben’s house was the one further up north of the village, nearly isolated. He lived there with his sister and his grandparents, being an orphan child. His grandmother had died but a year ago. He was reaching seventeen, and took to perilous travels at times in the wild, much to his sister’s dislike, Esther. He was now standing beside the window looking at the dusk settling in, and finding this shadow of what seemed a wolf trotting through the woods. Behind him, the flames in the chimney glowed and the lit candles all round the living room gave off a faint light. It was the coldest of winter, and Ruben avoided pressing his fingers against the glass, for it was cold enough to numb his fingers. His breath condensed on the window, and he had to erase the cloudy substance to look outside clearly.

“ A wolf round here this time of year ?” he meant to say it only to himself. Grandfather, who was seated, reading the Bible with a small notebook heard him and looked up, taking off his round glasses.

“ Wolf, said you ?” he asked Ruben, standing to his feet, and putting his book down. He came to stand beside the window. When he reached Ruben’s side, the shadow was just moving slyly away further in the forest. “ Ah,” said Grandfather, something of grim expression took place on his face. “ Bad times are over but only for a short while.” He went back to his armchair. He lifted his gaze to look at Ruben. “ He used to come round here, long time ago. Before the war of nineteen fourteen, a foul thing I’d say if your Papa hadn’t taught me what he knew, I still think so, but in respect of him, I’ll say he was more of a sign, that beast.” Ruben was intrigued by that, so was Esther, who had been sitting on the sofa, knitting something warm for either of the men she had at home. She set her work on her lap and listened.

“ Grandfather, I’d hate to contradict you, but, the wolf you saw before the war was perhaps not this one. He would be dead at present.”

“ Oh no !” said Grandfather with a laugh that meant I know how mad it sounds, but it is truth. “ He came round the same week, each year, when something happened that was disastrous. In nineteen twelve, he came by. He lingered a long while as his pack had already gone, it was the first time we met…”

 

~

 

I was, at the time, near the eastern border, very close to where Canada began. I was in my early twenties, and was out with my younger brother, cutting wood that would be more than necessary. At this time of year, there was no need to worry of bears of wolves, they often did not come by where we were. Sometimes, we would hear wolves howling as they came by. Autumn was drawing to its close, and winter’s burdens had already begun. We were with our Whitesnout, a husky dog. He was sitting silently, watching us, as we did our chore. I didn’t notice the difference at first. We kept turning round, and then hoving things about, cutting, working, sweating, and in all this small commotion of ours, my brother suddenly stopped, and tapped me on the shoulder.

“ Look,” said he. I turned round, and there, sitting in the snow was Whitesnout. I shrugged, thinking this was a joke of some sort, and then my brother grabbed my arm, and pointed in the exact opposite direction. Our cutting had created a nearly perfect circle, and now, sitting on two ends were…two Whitesnouts. I shook my head, thinking it had to be a trick of the mind’s eye. My brother, Joseph, was quicker than me though, to undertand. “ Really look,” he repeated. So I put my whole attention on the two ‘dogs’. The first I’d seen truly was Whitesnout. I could recognize him because his whole snout was white except for a little black spot near his eyes, and the white spot on his mostly black and grey coat, both eye blue. Then I turned to the other, and realized they did not actually look alike. This one was first of all, bigger, and his coat was darker in color�"but for his belly and paws being white. On one of these paws, however, there was a little brown streak, like a birthmark of some sort. And his eyes, his eyes. One was icy blue, and the other was green, but not a natural green, a green like the boreal lights, something eerie about it. It was a wolf, this I could clearly see, and yet, he was as quiet, and calm as our Whitesnout.

“ Can’t turn our back on him,” Joseph said, eyeing the wolf. “ What do you reckon we should do ?”

“ He doesn’t seem that desperated to eat or attack anything,” I said, knowing how foolish and naïve that was.

“ I’ll agree with that. I’m more worried about Whitesnout.”

“ Leave him be,” said I. “ Besides, that wolf will be gone soon. It will go south anyway, where there are deers.”

“ Shouldn’t he already be ? And why come by here anyway ? They never have.”

“ Wolves go the way they will, you’re not going to be the one to teach them which road to take and which not to.” Joseph rolled his eyes. However, I could tell he was not reassured with a wild animal so close by. Strangely enough, I felt confident, and not worried at all by his presence. We decided to work on, and always keep an eye on him. He remained unmoving, just like our Whitesnout who constantly eyed him too once in a while.

“ What does he want ?” Joseph muttered, later, when it was time to go on home.

“ Ask him,” I smiled mockingly. At this, the wolf reacted, which made Joseph and I flinch. He came near us slowly, and sat down at our feet, looking up at us. I couldn’t meet his gaze, for sole reason that dogs and wolves don’t look anyone in the eye, unless they are ready to launch an attack, and he wouldn’t meet mine�"indeed it is very difficult to know whether one of those species looks in the eye, for they will seem to, but do not necessarily. Then I extended a finger towards him, and he growled, something kind and threatening entering his gaze.

© 2012 Ray


Author's Note

Ray
Not finished yet, the continuation coming soon... (and what I said about the wolves going south, I have no idea !!!! :D )

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this is pretty suspenseful. i like the way you weave in what's real and what's fiction. it has great description of the characters making them three-dimensional. it ends on such a cliffhanger i definitely think you should continue this. excellent job.

Posted 11 Years Ago


You spelled strikingly, strinkingly, use lit instead of litted, use Aurora lights or borealis lights instead of boreal lights, other than that, great story!

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on May 20, 2012
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Ray
Ray

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"Let us remember: one book, one pen, one child, and one teacher can change the world." - Malala Yousafzai "To hold a pen is to be at war." - Voltaire "The pen is mightier than the sword." - E.. more..

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