My tender and gentle beast I

‘A man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf.’ George R. R. Martin
‘If you live among wolves you have to act like a wolf.’ Nikita Khrushchev

Copyright © by D. Frey

Part One


I

     As I stand near the window of a rundown house and watch the night quickly cover the landscape my memories of past days rush into my mind preventing from thinking rationally. Heavy raindrops slowly fall from the sky. The scent of freshness rose in the air. It is debatable: freshness or wet dust. Nevertheless the smell tingled my senses and unwillingly I sucked in the air through my nose. It’s been years since I have visited this house. Unused and unmanaged it slowly but surely started falling apart until all that was left of it were the walls, the roof and the doors.

I moved away from the window leaving and walked back into the centre of the room. It was the biggest room of the house. It serves as both a kitchen and a living room. There was almost no furniture left and what was left was old and broken. A children’s desk stood in the furthest corner from the entrance. I recognised it. It was my old desk that grandfather made for me himself. I was so proud of it, because nobody else in the village had one like that. I traced my fingers over the rough surface gathering the dust with my fingertips.

Why didn’t I come earlier? I kept asking myself that question for the longest time, but the answer always feared me. My own selfishness and pride killed the compassion in me. I looked down feeling my hair fall on my face. Hair. I smiled. I used to take pride in it as well. When I think about it, superbia was one of my biggest mistakes back in the days, now I can understand it and I regret it

Instinctively my hand reached and opened one of the drawers. A pile of papers tied with a string came into my sight. I took it out and blew dust off it. Those were my old drawings. My grandparents kept them. All of them. I removed the string placed the drawings on the desk. They were not bad. Even now I had to admit that drawing was something I could always do. The papers were different sizes and colours and illustrated different images both coloured and not. I smiled as I went through them until I reached a certain paper illustrating a wolf.

Even on the paper it looked big. Its fur was dark grey almost black and eyes were bright yellow. It seemed as if special care was taken while drawing it. The drawing was detailed, but it still did not look very realistic. I brought it closer to my face. With a messy handwriting it said “Hakon”.

A sudden wind flow burst into the room blowing all the papers from the desk. They spun in the air before landing on the dirty floor. Howling reached my hearing. It was faint and distant but I could hear. I ran to the window and looked out. The rainfall increased and I could not distinguish details in the scenery. I tensed my sight trying to see better, but there was nothing there. What was I trying to see? Subconsciously I knew, but I could not believe in what I used to believe back in the old days.

Raindrops were getting inside from the damaged window wetting the floor. A sigh escaped my lips as I sat down on the floor not bothering with anything any longer. “Hakon” – how could I forget? I forgot as if it never happened. And over the past fifteen years did not remember it a single time. It was not because of my memory being bad, but because I blocked it as soon as I moved away, forgot the name of my only friend in this place. I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. I couldn’t understand what made me so nervous all of a sudden: the memory of Hakon or the thought of meeting him again.

If I ever told anyone about Hakon I would without doubt be considered insane. That insanity would be justified. Who would believe that I befriended a wolf? That only happened in stories, in movies. Reality was less interesting and crueler. Hakon was a friend that I forgot to escape this psychosis. Feeling regrets was unnecessary, especially now. Hakon probably died from old age. Lifespan of a wolf in the wild is not long. I crawled to the picture and looked at it once more. He was truly a beautiful creature. The memories of that summer of filled my mind. I laid down on the floor and closed my eyes letting myself be sunk in the old days.



      That summer I was sent away to visit my grandparents who lived near a large forest that spread over the mountains. They lived in a small house but it was enough for just the two of them. All their children already grew up and rarely visited them. Grandkids were even rarer to see. My grandfather was a farmer but with age and health conditions he could not continue working and settled for growing flowers which my grandmother sold in the village for a small amount of money. It was not their source of finance, they lived off the savings they had and the money that their children transferred to them. Now that I am older I realize that it was one of their ways to pay off the fact that they almost never visited, but back then I was only ten years old and didn’t understand that.

My parents were going through a rough time. My mother insisted on going to Denmark, her home country, where she received a good job offer, but my father who was Japanese disagreed. Continuous arguments filled our home. Sometimes my parents would even ignore that I am in the room and continue having a go at each other. By the time the summer came I was fed up listening to their constant bickering and felt more than happy to visit my grandparents. I could not remember them from my early childhood, but I was sure that being with them would be better than with my own parents.

Population of the village where my grandparents lived was not big and consisted mainly of elderly, retired people.  The younger generation ignored me. They found it weird that my eyes were not the same colour as theirs. Even now I am unsure if it’s good that I’ve inherited my mother’s looks. Unlike in bigger cities where foreigners were more common this small village consisted of people who lived their whole lives there and almost never left the borders of it. Children teased me but I did not pay attention. My friends back in the city often told me that the way I looked was strange for them, but it was not repulsive. But there were people who bullied me about it. Children are generally very cruel.

I’ve spent my days exploring the area, drawing and helping my grandfather with the flowers. Every day brought something new into my life. That summer I was truly happy.

One day during my exploration I lost the track of time and place. I went further and further into the depth of the forest. It was my childish unawareness speaking inside me, guiding me. Not noticing the rock under my feet I tripped and fell. I landed on my face scraping it quite a lot. I sat up and looked at my knees. They were bleeding, but I did not cry. I winced as I wiped the blood with my dusty hand and that was when I heard it: low growling coming from the bushes. I looked in their direction in fear. The bushes moved and the animal that was hiding behind them stepped out. It was a wolf. Paralyzed with fear I couldn’t even scream.

The animal made its way towards me, taking careful steps…closer and closer. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t even move. My throat felt dry so I swallowed hard. The growling got louder as it approached me. From where I sat I could tell that it was not a fully grown wolf. It was still young, but that did not make it any less scary. If I was under less dangerous conditions I could have admired the wolf’s beauty. It stopped a couple of steps before me and sat down. The wolf’s big golden eyes looked at me, but I could not read anything in them, though I was not even trying.

We looked at each other. I wanted to look away but fear would not allow me to. Suddenly it moved towards me. I screamed and covered my face with my arms expecting an attack, but it never came. I waited when all of a sudden I felt something rough and wet touch my knee. I shivered and quickly looked at what it was. The wolf lay next to my legs and licked the blood from the wounds. It stung a little but my legs felt at ease. The fear was still there but something pushed to reach out towards it. It froze and tensed. My arm stopped in the mid air. Its eyes followed my movement hungrily as it was ready for anything that was going to come. My hand landed on its head. The fur was thick and slightly damp.

My hand moved on its own as I stroked its head and ears. The animal made no attempts to leave or to attack me. It just looked at me as if questioning if I have any ulterior motives, but I did not. The wolf moved closer. I winced and pulled back. Its eyes that never left me closed and it placed its head on my lap. It might have been the child in me speaking, but I leaned in and hugged it. I could feel a low growl coming from its throat, but there was no threat in it and somehow it did not seem as frightening as when I first saw it. It looked more like a big dog that lived in the wilds for a long time.

“You are pretty.” I said smiling as I stroked it back gently. “I am almost not afraid of you at all.” Of course no reply followed, but I wasn’t expecting any to begin with.
I didn’t know how much time passed, but before I realized it the night fell upon the forest. I gasped and rushed to my feet accidently pushing the wolf off me. It growled angrily at me. I felt a chill run down my spine.

“I’m sorry.” I quickly apologized. Of course it could not understand me but I felt so very rude that I wanted to let it know as hard as I can that I did not mean him any harm. I took a step towards it but it hissed at me showing its teeth. The wolf raised one paw and stood on the other three as if warning me not to get any closer. “I am sorry.” I repeated quietly. A sudden feeling of wanting to cry washed over me. I felt a lump stuck in my throat as tears poured out of my eyes on their own. That moment if I didn’t know better I would have thought that the animal look startled.

“I have to go now.” I said as I wiped away my tears. “But I am going to come back tomorrow, so we can play.”

I turned around and froze. All I could see was the forest. The road I came with disappeared or was never there to begin with. I wanted to cry again when I felt something we touch my hand. The wolf poked me with its nose as if trying to get my attention. I questioned with my eyes. It walked ahead me and turned around to look at me before it took off running. I quickly followed. Ignoring the branches that scratched my skin, countless rocks that I tripped on and insects that followed my every step, I could barely keep up with the wolf’s pace. I panted heavily and fell to my knees unable to continue. The animal stopped and walked towards me. It sniffed my hair and my face as if questioning what was wrong. In the end I think he understood. It lay down before of me and looked me straight into the eyes.

“You want me to get on your back?” I questioned. It continued looking. “No, I am too big.” I shook my head violently and stood up. I felt tired and it was too dark to see.

“We can continue.” I smiled widely. I can clearly remember the look it gave me that time. It was a look full of surprise and amusement. Perhaps it did find me amusing. A human child who cried at every little thing, a human child who tried to seem brave in reality
was very scared.

I don’t remember how long we walked. I held onto its fur but tried not to pull it so not angry it or scare it. Before I knew it we were back where I’ve started. It must have led me back by the smell. We stopped in front of a manmade road that led back to the village. The wolf started walking away. I still don’t know what possessed me to ran after it and wrap my arms around it, but I did. It did not respond.

“I will come back tomorrow. I promise.” I yelled as I let go and ran home.

That night I got quite a severe scolding from my grandparents who could not understand the reason behind the smile that did not leave my face the whole evening. I did not tell them anything from my day’s adventures knowing that if they found out about the wolf I would be forever forbidden to wonder on my own, so I kept quiet and blamed me being late on falling asleep. Even now I am still unsure if they believed me that time; they exchanged worried looks but did not question me any further.

“Kaia, please do not go far in the forest.” My grandmother kneeled in front of me and held me by my shoulders. “It is very dangerous.” Her warm smile looked sad.
My grandfather rested his hand on her shoulder looking down.

“We worry about you.”



       They were worried about me. I knew it, but I still did not keep my promise that summer: the summer that was locked away in my mind until my return.