Little Wolf

Ch 1 Wolf Song

"Son, pay attention; keep your feet on the ground and stop climbing trees. Little Wolf, be careful where you put your paws, so you don't leave tracks. If you aren't going to eat them, leave the squirrels alone. Little Wolf, get over here and tell me what you can smell..."

Dad's training from my childhood echoed in my mind as I moved through the nighttime woods. I took a deep breath, trying to dispel the memory of blood-tainted air. My eyes automatically sought the best path as I blinked back tears. I glided with ease through the bushes and scraggly underbrush in this part of the wilderness. Moonlight slipped through the leafy canopy, reflecting off the occasional rock that poked through the ground here and there. I avoided those pockets of luminescence without even thinking about it.

I traveled by instinct, my paws barely touching the ground. My mind was unable to focus on my surroundings. I hadn't wandered these woods since the night my mom died a year ago. Memories of my dad's desperate howl, my mother's mangled body, filled my mind. I shook my head to dispel the memory as I headed deeper into the forest, where the hardwoods grew more prominent, and the underbrush was less pervasive.

There was a way to move Dad simply referred to as gliding, a smooth loping pace low to the ground. He often made fun of Mom when she called it ghosting. I focused on my paws as I remembered the many times she and I would go hiking when I was younger, just to practice.

"Ghost with me, Little Wolf," Mom would say. "Flit across the floor of the forest like a free-moving spirit wisping through the trees."

Are you ghosting with me now, Mom?

A silver streak flashed in my periphery, making me lose my stride for a moment. Dad would have my hide for getting distracted. I focused more on my surroundings, hoping to catch another glimpse of whoever was in the forest with me tonight. It couldn't have been my dad, whose fur was solid black.

A sad, drawn-out howl had me gathering speed. All of my senses strained toward my dad's cry. I sought the hills and ridges above the river, not far from where my mom's life had ended.

When I caught my cousin's scent, I smiled slightly, my canines glistening in the moonlight. Running Elk had helped take the edge off my grief. His constant pestering during the past year reinforced the sense of family within me, letting me know I wasn't alone.

Somehow I wasn't surprised he chose tonight, of all nights, to spend in the wilderness. Grandfather had pressured me for a few years to seek my spirit guide, a task at which I had failed. I figured my cousin had recently experienced the same harassment from our elder. The only reason I could think of for Running Elk to be out alone like this, in the middle of this particular night without confiding in me, was him attempting to acquire his spirit guide.

Despite the attention Running Elk had given me during the summer, filled with human activities, I missed Dad's wolfish companionship. It had become common for Dad to take off during the past year for a night or two, but this last time he'd been out for almost a month. Dad had been more on edge as the anniversary of Mom's death approached. The level of grief in Dad's howl made me wonder if I would be able to break through his inner turmoil and bring him home.

A different howl off to my left, announcing the presence of another wolf, made me pick up my pace. A third howl from behind me sent chills up my spine. These woods were part of my family's territory. There hadn't been any ordinary, regular wolves around here for a long time.

I kept waiting for Dad to respond to the invading pack. The hoot of an owl rang through the night, and leaves rustled from the breeze flowing through the trees, but nothing from my dad. I headed to higher ground, moving around the gullies that would slow me down. My paws scrabbled against loose pebbles as I dug my claws into the ground for leverage.