Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

------

For the next week Kila didn’t take one step towards the forest. Memories of the men and the wolf made her shiver and break out in a cold sweat all over again every time she let herself think about it. The way those men had looked, and touched her, triggered a spasm of nausea that had nothing to do with sickness. She knew what the men had wanted. It was the fear lacing her brother’s dark glare whenever she spoke to boys from her village, the reason he took pains to make sure that she was never out past sunset. Those men would have hurt her terribly if the wolf hadn’t jumped in and saved her.

Silly. Wild animals didn’t ‘save’ people. That wolf killed the men because that was what wolves did. It ripped open their throats like the dangerous predator it was.

But why didn’t it attack her? Not hungry anymore?

Kila didn’t think that was quite it. And the more that she thought about it, the less terrified and more puzzled she became. She thought about how the wolf had circled that thief, moving closer to the tree and then goading that last attack. If she didn’t no any better she’d say it did that on purpose, that it deliberately planned it that way. But surely no wolf was that intelligent.

Right?

Kila didn’t know much more about wild canines that any other girl in her village, and there really wasn’t anyone that she could ask. She’d never seen a live wolf so close, but she knew that its color was odd. The other wolves in the forest tended to be gray in their coats, not brown. And its brown eyes were flecked with gold. Quite mesmerizing actually…

Kila began to miss the forest. She missed walking under the trees and the freedom that she had always felt in its privacy. What happened was horrible, but it probably wouldn’t happen again. Wolves and men avoided one another in the forest, they were creatures rarely seen.

A once-in-a-million chance, she told herself. I ought to be fine if I go back.

This time, she really would stick close to the edge.

--

And that’s what she did, once she’d summoned the nerve to step underneath the leafy canopy once more. The squirrels frolicked overhead and the breeze ruffle the leaves like always; nothing had changed. Kila went to gather mushrooms and wild herbs as she always had, and everything was fine.

Mostly.

Kila had never been as sensitive to her environment as her brother, but every now and then, an odd sensation tickled the back of her neck. She looked back and every time there was nothing, but she was beginning to get the feeling that someone was watching her. It wasn’t only the forest either. Even when she was washing the linens outside her cabin or tending the garden, the feeling would hit her and cause her to glance about nervously.

Was she imagining it?

“Kila,” her brother said one morning, after several days had passed. She was spooning porridge into their bowls and didn’t look up.

“What?”

“We have nine hens, right?” he asked casually.

She looked up and said, “That’s right, why?”

Ian shook his head, his brow crinkling in concern and said, “Just checking. We had a wolf in our yard last night.”

Kila almost dropped the ladle. “What?”

“There are tracks all over the yard, huge ones. I’ve never heard of a wolf coming so close to the village before… if it wasn’t after the chickens, what was it doing?” He was asking rhetorically, frowning at the view outside their window and not looking at her.

He didn’t see Kila’s face blanche as she asked, “Well, if it didn’t kill any, then no harm done, right?”

“I suppose.” He shot her a sharp look. “I want you to be extra careful, okay? I don’t think a wolf would come around in the daytime, but just in case.” He paused and then added, “And be sure to lock up the henhouse proper tonight.”

She meekly nodded. “I will.”

Her brother left the window and turned his attention to breakfast, but Kila was too queasy to eat. It had to be coincidence.

Isn’t it? She thought while wringing her napkin in her lap.

--

She didn’t go into the forest that day. Instead, she walked the short distance to her village’s central square, and the small cluster of shops. Here she often visited her seamstress friends Sera and Fionn, but that day she walked right past their shop. Kila had no need of a dress or friendly chatter, and in her current state, she didn’t think herself capable of it. The conversation with her brother had left her stomach twisting and her thoughts in a whirl. She needed help, but who could she ask?

She knew the answer before she’d even asked herself the question. The village healer frightened some, and there was no doubt that she was a rather odd lady, but Lady Dorres had always smiled kindly at her. Kila had always thought that she was nice, though she had never gone out of her way to speak to her. She had certainly never been into her tiny little shop, and it was with the greatest deal of uncertainty that she parted the braided curtain. Smoke from an incense burner made her cough lightly.

“Come on in,” the redhead offered, smiling cordially and stirring a cup of tea, acting as if Kila popped by all of the time. “Good morning Kila, how are you?”

Kila replied hesitantly. “Er, fine, thank you. How are you?”

The older woman nodded softly. “I’m doing well. Please, sit down.” The only immediate furniture was a small round table and two chairs, and at the invitation, Kila edged into one. Lady Dorres held up a pot of steaming liquid. “Would you like a cup of tea? It will relax you.”

“Oh, yes please,” Kila answered immediately, so anxious to sooth her frayed nerves that she didn’t even wonder how Dorres knew she needed it. Instead, she took the opportunity to look around while the healer was occupied, intrigued. Lady Dorres obviously loved bells, there were so many of them. Large, handheld ones lined shelves on the wall and tiny ones hung in spirals from the ceiling, tinkling now and then with the slight movement of air.

“There you go,” Dorres said brightly, offering the promised cup before sitting and flashing another friendly smile. “Peppermint and honey, please tell me if it’s not sweet enough.”

“Thank you.” Tentatively, Kila took a sip. “It’s wonderful,” she gushed, taking another eager drink.

Dorres nodded, and then asked, “And how is you brother?”

Kila blinked at the unexpected question, but smiled. “Oh,” she said lightly. “He’s fine, no different that usual.”

“That’s good,” the older woman said. “And you father?”

“He’s well,” Kila replied.

Lady Dorres though for a moment, and then asked, “So, if you are fine, and you family is fine too, then what brings you hear today?”

“Um…” Kila lost her polite smile and occupied herself with another sip; the tea was very good. “I don’t know exactly how to say it.”

Dorres patted her arm softly. “That’s alright; I’m not in any hurry.”

“I think I must be crazy,” Kila mumbled, talking more into the teacup than to the older woman. “Lately, for several days, I’ve had such a strange feeling,” she finally said. “Like I’m being watched. But when I look around, there’s no one. I’m sure that I’m being silly, but I just can’t ignore it and it’s driving me mad.”

Kila felt a curious wave of relief after the words spilled from her mouth. It felt so good to finally say it, even if she was being silly.

Dorres, however, looked entirely sympathetic. “Have you told anyone?” Her words were gentle.

Kila shook her head. “It’s just a strange feeling, that’s all.”

“Well, I happen to believe in strange feelings. Are you finished?” Dorres extended her hand for the small cup that Kila had just drained, and slightly taken aback, she handed it over. For a few moments her hostess said nothing, studying the leaves in the bottom of the cup. Afraid to interrupt, Kila kept silent.

Dorres suddenly stood up and crossed the room, looking over her collection of bells, and then returned to the table when she had selected one. One flick of her wrist resulted in a low, soft chime and again, Dorres examined the tea leaves.

“Hmm,” she finally said, after the chime had faded away.

“Do you know who it is?” Kila asked hopefully.

Dorres shook her head. “No, I don’t. But you do.”

Kila’s heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed. Wolf tracks…

“However,” the woman continued, “I see no malice. He does not mean you any harm.”

“He?” Kila squeaked.

“He,” Dorres repeated firmly, glancing again into her cup. “No harm, just… interest. I believe that he’s lonely. Perhaps he likes your kind smile.” She directed one of her own to Kila, a comforting one. “A smile really does suit you best, Kila, so please don’t worry yourself sick. Something tells me that good will come of this.”

“You see that in the leaves?” Kila asked.

“No, that’s just a hunch.” Dorres patted her hand. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. You know better than I what to do now.

“I do?”

Dorres nodded, but said nothing more on the subject. “Please do have a good day today. And tell your brother that I said hello.”

It was clearly a dismissal. Feeling not much better than she had when she first entered the shop, Kila thanked the woman and made her way home. Under the bright blue sky, the trees of the forest rustled invitingly.

I must be mad, Kila thought, over and over again as she left her cabin. Absolutely mad, and her brother would agree. But still, she left the cabin and entered the forest, her collecting basket in one hand and leftover scraps of meat in the other. The blackberries had begun to ripen and Kila wanted a basketful, but she would not endure another moment of this secretive spying.

When she had found a promising patch of bushes, she plucked up her nerve and did the craziest thing ever.

“Wolf?” Her voice seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet woods, and when there was no response, she repeated herself even louder. “Wolf?”

She must have lost her mind. To think that she would call out to a wild predator in the middle of the forest and actually expect him to appear—

He appeared, not more than a moment later, which meant he had been close to begin with. Even bigger than she remembered, he silently emerged from the underbrush and stayed there, exchanging his stare with hers.

“I— I think that I should say thank you,” Kila stammered, “For what you did. You saved me from those men, and I’m very grateful, which is why I brought you this.” She pulled apart her package, revealing a pile of meat scraps from their dinner, which she would have normally buried. Never breaking her gaze from the wolf’s, she knelt and placed it on the grass, and then quickly backed away. “So please don’t eat me,” she added on, for good measure.

His ear twitched, but for several long minutes, he made no other move. He simply watched her, with an air that she could almost imagine to be appraising. At length, having decided that she must be sincere, he trotted closer. Hastily Kila backed up, almost right into the prickly vines behind her. The wolf sniffed the meat, and in one swift motion, he gulped down half of it. Kila almost jumped at the sudden movement, confronted again with rows of sharp white teeth. Unable to look away, Kila watched him devour the rest of the leftovers and then sniff the grass for any remnants. He looked her way again once he had finished eating, but didn’t come any closer. Instead, he made his way to the nearest tree and sat.

Kila stood up slowly and said, “So you still want to watch me, then?” She thought it truly bizarre, but at the same time she felt relieved. Now, she didn’t have to worry about unseen eyes following her every move. Sitting there with his ears pricked up and panting slightly, his posture seemed so unthreatening. Dorres was right; she knew that this wolf meant her no harm.

“Well, okay.” Kila said carefully. “You can stay right there, while I go and pick some berries.”

Not quite sure why she was talking like she expected an answer, Kila picked up her basket from the ground. For the rest of the morning, she worked on filling the basket with berries, and though she always made sure to keep the wolf within view, he never once moved. When she had picked all that she wanted and set off for her cabin, he stood and followed. Some nervousness popped up again, but he kept a healthy distance from her. By the time Kila reached her home, he was gone.

--

The next time she returned to the forest, she took a shallow basketful of chicken giblets. Again she called out to him, and as expected he appeared, as silently and quickly as the first time, consumed her gift, and watched while she picked plums from some low tree branches. After that time, Kila always made sure to take some scraps of food with her when she ventured into the forest, though she no longer worried that he would eat her if she didn’t. It simply became a habit, as routine as the wolf’s presence, and she’s even stopped keeping an eye on him as she worked. And after the first few times, she found that she didn’t have to call out for him. After her first few steps past the tree line, he would be there, trotting along several paces away and ready to follow here wherever she walked.

She wondered why of course, but after so many days, she gave up the endless puzzling. She had come to the conclusion that the large wolf liked to keep her company, and that was that.

She became so accustomed to him, that she didn’t even notice that the distance between them lessened every time that she went into the forest. The wolf’s sentry post got a little closer every morning that she spent in the woods, until one day she looked up from her groundnut gathering to find him an arm’s length away.

Looking at his sharp teeth, now so close, Kila’s stomach fluttered nervously. But she was far from panicked; only perplexed.

“Why don’t you eat me?” she asked, and sighed when she received no answer. She wondered why she talked to him like she always expected one. “You’re a very strange wolf, you know. You ought to spend time with other wolves instead of me. Don’t you like your own kind?”

Again there was no reply, but the disconcertingly intelligent way he watched her as she spoke made her feel like he was following the conversation. Did he actually understand that she was talking to him? This wolf was so very unusual.

She took a step closer and held her hand out tentatively. “Would you… let me touch you?”

She almost slapped her other hand against her lips; she couldn’t believe her words! Was she crazy, wanting to touch a full-grown, wild and very dangerous wolf? But it couldn’t be any crazier that sitting there, talking to him, a helpless victim if he suddenly decided to attack. The idea was so tempting, now that she was actually thinking about it. She really wanted to…

Kila abandoned rational caution and reached forward with her hand; slowly, so as not to startle him. Whether he understood or not, he didn’t move, not looking away from her face as her hand drifted closer to his right flank. Timidly, as delicately as she could, Kila’s fingertips touched his fur.

It was rougher than it looked, not as soft as the fur of a sheepdog, but it still felt nice. Kila pressed her hand harder until she was actually petting him like she would any other dog. A rhythmic thumping distracted her from her task, and when she saw his tail beating against the ground, she almost laughed out loud. A wolf, wagging his tail!

He moved his head and she as startled at the feel of his cold nose on her skin, not having intended on putting her hand anywhere near his mouth. But all he did was sniff, and she relaxed. She moved her hand past his muzzle, patting the smooth fur between his ears, her fingertips unerringly scratching the itchy places just behind them. His tail wagged even faster, and Kila thought that she would bubble over with delight. She, Kila Lethitt, was petting a real live wolf! No one would ever believe it.

So she didn’t tell anyone.