The Little Wolf, Short fantasy story,Forest Home, Hunter, Another Life Lesson, Survival
The Little Wolf
Deep within a forest dark, twisted branches, mossy bark.
Misty dews and musty smells, a hamlet full of people dwelled
And happy as the kind folk were, they oft at night feared things with fur, the teeth and tusks that grew on boars, red-eyed wolves and bears with claws.
And even though no life was spent, to fetch a Hunter some boy was sent.
The burly man that he brought back was broad and strong and dressed in black.
The silver crossbow off his shoulder matched his beard and showed him older.
A cold breeze blew when he came near; his steely eyes made folks feel queer.
And yet with passion they embraced the death of beasts that he would face.
And gave him gold to serve his need. So he would go and do this deed.
When in the morning, he was gone, people praised him with a song and of the beasts then, it was said, that he would come back with their heads.
For they believed that he was great, and they had sent him to his fate.
And deadly was his quiet walk, no bracken crunch gave way his stalk.
With stealth the blackness his embrace, a bear was soon within his pace.
An arrow taken from its quiver, with pointed barb would death deliver,
Swift and sharp would be its passage, and in the heart would leave its message.
Cruel suddenly, it stopped the heart, and gently then, a soul depart.
Like liquid moonbeam, soft and petal, whispering past the shaft of metal.
And no remorse did the hunter feel, as teeth and claws with knife did steal.
And on his tunic blood was spilt, a brooch reminder of his guilt.
So onward slinky footsteps silent, a boar with tusks both sharp and violent.
Innocent of danger lurking, the hunter lunged with dagger working.
Another creature lay down dead, both tusks removed from its head.
With grim resolve and many eyes, a pack of wolves sent out its spies.
The hunter and the hunted merged, and blood in veins and heartbeats surged.
The man saw that he was surrounded, twenty wolves or more he counted, and as he backed to load an arrow, his foot went in a hole quite narrow.
And when he moved he heard a crack, and felt his leg inside go snap.
And shards of spiky bone broke through, his trousers, leather straps and shoe.
The red eyes flashed in dappled light, as blood and flesh and grinding fright, did grip the hunter, helpless, lame, fallen down and gripped in pain.
Oh how bitter was the taste, of failing so with such disgrace, an actor in the final scene, an audience with attention keen, and how he feared the curtain call, to face the crowd, to greet them all.
"Have your way you hairy beasts, have me for your evening feast, and you will feel some steel my friends, before you send me to my end."
But silent was the wolves reply, they did not move he knew not why.
A day went by and then another, the wolves it seemed, they did not bother.
And yet the hunter knew them present, his leg now green and far from pleasant.
He started then to save his life, by cutting off his leg with knife, and screamed aloud and ground his teeth, as darkness this unwelcome thief, did threaten him to stay awake, for death was near and hard to shake.
And fever made him shake and quiver, he dragged his body to a river, and drank and drank to have his fill; around him there the wolves were still.
And so he rolled to view the sky, then closed his eyes, prepared to die, to leave this world, to leave this place, when....
Something licked him on his face.
The gentle touch, his startled stare, the smallest of the wolves was there,
And it had brought him down some food, rabbit flesh both ripped and crude.
And as he ate, his life he knew, was saved and far from being through.
And months went by, in shelter crude, the wolf was always there with food.
Through winter, snow and windy gale, wolfs’ persistence did not fail, and through this time the two grew fond, welded tight in silent bond.
When summer came his strength restored, and with the wolf that he adored, his steely eyes that twinkled now, like flowers capped with glistening dew, did see the world in different light, as though quite blind he now had sight.
And what a world that he did see, the magic in each twisted tree, no longer dark, the forest spoke, and deep inside a spirit woke.
A different man walked out of there, with wooden leg, without a care, and with his wolf there by his side, the hamlet in the forest spied.
And there and then he did resolve, to go back there and help them solve,
Their fear of creatures and the night, and give them comfort from their plight.
But when his beaming face came near, there was no one to come and peer, no faces greeted, not a one, for the villagers they had gone, and they had taken all they could and moved on to some other wood.
The hunter laughed; they were not missed, and on its head the wolf he kissed, and smiling broadly he did say, that he had truly won the day, and walked back slowly to the wood, and slowly disappeared for good.
A Life Lesson:
This little story is actually a 'story within a story' from my novel Morris The Ogre. I wrote it as an example of how life experiences can change our whole perspective and view of ourselves. I have written a Hub on this subject and feel that this story helps get the message across. I have found in my own life that in the midst of a crisis we often can't see hope. We wonder how we will survive and get our old 'normal' lives back...but the suffering and pain changes us, often forcing us to re evaluate our direction in life.......and more often than not releasing us from our past.
Many of the life 'crashes' that we face are a direct result of our life choices. Often our family and friends can see a crisis in our lives long before we can. The dark tunnel may be the breakdown of a Marriage, the failure of a business, an illness or accident. We have a clear choice, to learn the life lesson and move on to new Green Fields or to cance our luck in the old one.
I know this may sound corny and (even annoying if you tell this to someone in the midst of a crisis) but listening to life lessons can liberate you and take to to places of happiness you would not have visited in your old life. It is like cleaning the sheet and starting a fresh....but only if you take the plunge.
It is so hard to offer hope to those in a state that they consider hopless. Help them to hang on to the ride and 'feel' their emotions. Never set timelines for them and never ever tell them to 'get over it'. More than anything just sit and listen to them, let them talk it out....even if they say the same things over and over again. They are trying to assimilate information that is hard to bear and they need to work through and let their brain accept that which is unacceptable. They will work through it in the end..... having friends and family who love them and care about them is so important.
Hope you liked the Little Wolf, I cry every time I read it and I wrote it!- Peace and Love Man from an aging Hippie.
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