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The Guardian
...for geodeNight had fallen, and a thin cloud cover softly veiled the stars; to the west a golden glow heralded the rising of the moon. A soft warm wind sighed through the pines, elms, and oaks, sending autumn leaves drifting slowly and gently to the ground as squirrels and other forest creatures nestled warmly in their nests...
Deep in the heart of the woods, one creature awoke, stretched mightily, shaking his massive body rapidly to loosen the sleep-pressed fur, and quietly padded out of his den, a den hidden deep within the banks of a small brook that meandered with a small glade. He stopped at the edge of the brook and looked into the sky, smelling the scents brought by the wind; and he drank of the cool waters; his yellow eyes always looking around while his muzzle was yet immersed in the stream...
The moon rose, full and majestic on the horizon, shedding a faint golden glow tinged with silver cross the glade, highlighting the grizzled fur upturned alert ears, and revealing the deep shimmering depths within the watchful eyes... the watchful eyes and soul of an unusually large, powerful, and wizened Arctic Wolf... eyes that had seen and experienced things far beyond the normal ken and reflected that knowledge deep within...
And the wolf's head suddenly snapped up, ears forward, muzzle lifted to the wind, for the scent of an old and ancient enemy was on the breeze, faint, but definite - and with the hated scent came a deep call within his heart, the cry of a child despairing and fearful, a child calling out in the lonely night for help, for her family who would never come - and the wolf was gone, racing silently through the woods, unseen and unfelt by all...
The miles disappeared rapidly as the wolf homed in on the vile scent and heart-breaking call, racing time and wind in a race seen only by the distant stars and still rising moon... a wizened old owl sensed the swift passage and called out "who, who'' - and there was no answer, just the soft sounds of leaves settling to the forest floor...
A clearing appeared before the wolf's racing form, and with it the cry of the child and the scent of the ancient enemy pummeled the senses of the wolf - and he exploded into the clearing at tremendous speed, rending through the gathered foul ones, slashing and tearing with his teeth and claws, scattering them, sending them reeling in confusion and pain as he raced clear of their vile touch past the tiny pond...
...and he spun around, and tore through them again; many of them fell, never to rise again - and while confusion and terror reigned in the minds of the arcane and foul beings, the wolf walked stiff-legged and bristle-furred, fangs bared, muzzle slavering, snarling at those beings yet standing, eyes flaming with hatred at a grey headless form at the fringe of the clearing - and he stood over the sobbing child, daring the ancient ones to come near, defiantly growling and rumbling his anger and rage -
He looked around at all that remained, and saw that in their confusion they could not attack, and saw too that the grey one was afraid and uncertain... and he gently lowered his head, licking the tears from the soft cheeks of the child, placing his massive paw ever so softly in the palm of her hand, and lowering his body enough that she could wrap her other hand deep within the fur around his neck, and bury her face in the soft fur of his chest... and his eyes never left the enemy at any time as the precious little child realized the danger was over, and cried into his fur...
The wolf watched, waiting for an opening, waiting patiently as the child cried out her pain and terror and loneliness; waiting gently and lovingly as the child realized her soul-friend, the Arctic Wolf Lupus, had come to stand over her, to guard against the evils of the world... and wrapped her other hand deep within the fur of his side...
The grey one moved, slightly - and the wolf was on the grey one so rapidly that the little child was left holding two handfuls of soft warm fur, eyes wide at the blinding speed and ferocity of the wolven attack against the ancient enemy, the enemy who preys on the innocent and pure such as she... the abominable ones who rob others of laughter and joy and peace...
The little girls' eyes grew ever wider in wonder as the wolf ravenously and silently tore again and again into the grey one and the few enemy that remained, spinning around and through the evil ones so fast that he seemed a silver-grey tornado - and yet the only sound she could hear were the cries of terror emerging deep from within the evil ones and the grey one as they realized their impotence and helplessness before the onslaught of the raging grey wolf...
Soon, there was silence.... and the wolf stood over the shredded remains of the grey one and her malignant hordes, shoulders and head lowered, eyes gleaming fiercely in the light of the moon, hackles standing high as the wolf looked around the entire clearing to ensure all of the enemy were dead and defeated... no sounds but of the wind sighing through the trees and the softer sounds of leaves falling...
...and the innocent and precious little one clapped her hands, smiling through the tears that remained - and the wolf shook himself so rapidly that he appeared almost as a tumbleweed from the fluffed-out fur, and the little one laughed with delight at the silly appearance of her lupine friend...
The wolf walked briskly forward towards the little one, ears forward and tail wagging - and suddenly he leapt high in the air and came down with a tremendous splash in the little pond, sending frogs large and small ker-boinging into the meadow, croaking their indignation to the night... He rolled over and over in the water, and he leapt out of the pond and shook himself wildly, sending a miniature rain-storm over the night blooming lilies as the frogs grumbled their way back to their pond... He walked again towards the precious one - and dropped abruptly onto the tall grass in front of her, twisting and turning and rubbing his back, sides, and belly in the grass, cleansing his fur of the stains of battle, cleansing his fur of the defeated ones scent...
...and he stopped and was still... and rolled on his back with all four legs splayed out in disarray, tail beating a fan-shaped swath through the grass, head tilted way back so much that a wondering cricket looked up right into the deep yellow smiling eyes of the wolf...
And the little girl pounced on the wolf's belly, giggling, and tickling the massive ribs, only to wrap her arms around the furry chest as she lay her head gently on the soft white fur... and the wolf carefully and gently lowered his paws to enclose her safely within as he listened to her soft gentle breath and dried the final tears from her eyes...
Later, when the moon had risen directly overhead, the wolf gently stirred and carefully stood up, and then nuzzled the delicate hand of the little one... she awoke, smiling, then stood and wrapped her hand deep within the fur of his back... and they walked together out of the clearing and back towards the glen, at peace...
And the wise old owl saw them go by and nodded his head, knowing the forest was finally safe for all - and that the little one and the wolf, as different as they appeared, were yet true family - and that they were heading Home...
11/15/1993
Last updated: Saturday, 03-Jan-2015 18:12:28 PST
