Date: Sat, 08 Jul 2006 14:50:37 -0600
From: Kris <dragonwriter@comcast.net>
Subject: Night Howls part 1

My own personal take on the werewolf. Being as vampires have been done to
death and beyond by the lovely and talent less Anne Rice, I desired to
write a story about living, breathing, sexy supernatural creatures!

Night Howls
				Part One

	After my divorce, I was feeling especially anti-social, even the
company of my family members was too much; the only companionship I wanted
was Cherie. Cherie is my malamute; she's big as a horse and not afraid of
anything. Well, not really as big as a horse as Pelka, my cousin's horse
would have pointed out could she speak. So when Jake, my cousin, offered me
the use of his hunting cabin for a year, while he was out of the country,
with the stipulation that I take care of Pelka, I jumped at it. Blissfully
off the main roads and deep into the mountains, I would be left quite
alone. To mope, my mother said, but then she always loved my ex-wife.

	To be honest so did I. Ava was petite and pert and beautiful with
the manners of a queen. But she was also ambitious and worldly, being the
daughter of a lawyer. It was hard to go from spoiled Princess to wife of a
starving artist. Oh, for a year we were head over heels in love and
happy. I suppose for Ava it was the thrill of being a rebel, of living a
life so much at odds with her upbringing. But as often happens, the thrill
lagged and canned tuna lost its appeal. It wasn't that I wasn't making
money; after all I did work in her daddy's law office. But Ava liked the
high life and after a year of office life I was fed up with the legal
system and aching to be back outside in the sun again.

	I'm a sculptor. I carve wood. And I make some damned good money
from my art, but it isn't consistent, and as any artist will tell you, the
buying public is pretty fickle. I do pretty well, but it wasn't enough to
keep Ava in the style she remembered when the excitement of rebellion wore
off. So I suppose the break up was my fault: I quit her daddy's law firm
and returned to my studio full time. And as a consequence back to sporadic
paychecks and an end to the nights out on the town.

	I tried to explain to my mother I wasn't hiding from Ava, I was
hiding from EVERYONE. But mother being mother simply said, "why can't you
work in the garage like you did as a teenager?" She couldn't see that I
wanted space, physical and mental space from the things that reminded me of
my marriage. Except for Cherie, I took her with me. At 23, I was feeling
washed up as a lover and a mate; my marriage was broken and many of my
friends were taking sides in an issue that I didn't feel had "sides' or
fault to it. I wanted away, away from the reminders of happier times and
away from the reminders of bad times as well.

	"But it's September, Joash. You'll be gone for the holidays!" My
mother had protested when I told her. But still I went.

	The cabin was pretty rustic, it had running water and electricity
but I would have no phone and minimal comforts, Jake warned. "Better get
you a rifle and learn to use it," he said, "you're a long way from the
nearest law enforcement, not to mention bears and cougars don't honor our
law anyway."

	"You'll have to get a wood cutting license as well," Jake
continued. "But the Forest Service is pretty good about them. Helps keep
the summer forest fires down."

	"Do NOT mention fire to my mother," I answered. Jake had grinned;
mother was notoriously overprotective of me.

	An adventure, I decided, and just what I needed to jump start my
carving again. My cousin explained about the generator that supplied
electricity for the fridge, stove and lights. He also warned me to stock up
on propane before snow flew and driving up there, I understood why. The
road was dirt and mostly unmaintained. Come winter it would be impassable,
I would be stuck up there. I shivered feeling cold slide down my back.

	I stood outside the cabin feeling oddly free for the first time in
two years. It was small, but cozy. There was a dried cup of coffee on the
bar between the kitchen and the living room and a dirty pan full of ants on
the stove, when Cherie and I arrived. I threw the cup and the pan in the
trash outside and scrubbed every inch of the kitchen. The kitchen was
paneled in oak with oak cabinets. A butcher-block table sat in the center
and there was just enough space to move around it.

	The main room was cozy with a soft couch and a loveseat covered in
Indian blankets grouped in front of a stone fireplace. On the floor were
several rugs also in Native American patterns; there were prints of the
mountains on the walls. By the door was a shiny wooden gun rack. I put my
new Winchester rifle on it and the boxes of ammo in the drawer below. I was
hoping I wouldn't need it but I was also confident that if I did need it I
could use it effectively. Another part of my adventure I had conveniently
forgotten to tell my mother!

	Next to the fireplace was a door leading out into a storage
room. The bank of windows on the east side of the room screamed STUDIO to
me! The room was about 20 feet long and 10 feet wide with windows and a
hard cement floor. It would be a freezing room in the winter, I
guessed. And puzzling enough for a sculptor, the only source of heat would
be fire in a stove against the wall backing the fireplace. It would require
an air filter to keep wood shavings down and reduce the risk of fire; I put
it on a mental list of things to bring up before winter. I grinned: to burn
wood and be warm or sculpt and be creative? Well, I'd worry about it closer
to winter.

	Back in the main room, I found that Cherie had declared a thick,
furry rug in front of the fireplace as hers. I smiled; squatted down and
scratched her ears. She looked up at me and licked my face.

	"Nice huh?" I said. "This is our new home, Cherie."

	I spent most of the first day getting everything settled. The Land
Rover was full of supplies, both art and domestic. Cherie ran in and out of
the cabin barking in excitement and narrowly missed tripping me several
times. Her voice rang against the near mountains and echoed away into the
trees.  Cherie discovered squirrels in the oak just off the front porch and
spent a long time ensuring they got adequate exercise running from her.

	After getting the Rover unpacked, I went around to the stable. It
was a big red building recently painted. My cousin usually boarded Pelka
with friends while he was gone and they were planning on bringing her up in
the next day or two. I was a bit nervous, I had no experience with horses,
but Jake insisted that she was a sweetheart.

	"You'll be riding all over the hills in no time, Joash." Jake said
with a grin. "Just sit tight and put your faith in Pelka, she'll take good
care of you."

	I lifted the drop bar and opened the stable door; the interior was
cozy and smelled of hay and horse. I looked around briefly noting the horse
stuff in the small room off the main room. I searched my head for the right
words, oh yes, tack room and riding tack. I hoped Jake's friend would be
patient in teaching me to use it all. Especially the sled propped against
the far wall, it would be perfect for wood foraging.

	Along the far side of the stable was a corral: a door in the side
of the building connected the two together.  Cherie slid under the fence
rails and explored every inch of the corral. I laughed and yelled to
her. She barked in pleasure and I jumped over the fence and chased
her. Together we ran around the corral, chasing each other and having a
good time, until I was too winded to do anything other than lean against
the fence and pant.

	For the first time in months, I was strangely at peace and
happy. The divorce had taken so much out of me. I had been unable to work
and unwilling most days to even get out of bed. I had needed a change. I
silently thanked Jake for giving it to me as Cherie and I trudged back to
the house to finish settling in. We spent the rest of the day unpacking and
spreading our presence across every room in the cabin.

	The bathroom wasn't much larger than the bathtub, toilet and sink,
but it was clean and the window had a fantastic view of the nearby
mountains. The bedroom had a queen-sized bed, a dresser and a small end
table in it. There were a couple of books on the table: all westerns. I
wrinkled my nose at Jake's taste in reading material and put more books on
my mental list for the next time I went into town. The bed was firm and the
sheets clean. A striped comforter covered the bed and I found more blankets
in the top of the closet.

	I had a moment of panic thinking of clean laundry, until I found a
small washer and dryer in the generator room. There was a note on the
washer warning that water pressure was iffy, since it came from a well, so
to carefully monitor the water level when doing laundry! I wondered if the
pipes would freeze in the winter. Better stock up on clean underwear!
		***************************************************************

	The wolf watched the movement around the human place. Usually the
humans were gone from there by the time the air turned cool. He was
puzzled, and rather curious. He had been a wolf for a very long time:
uninterested in The Change. A big broad male: black and gray colored with a
splash of white across his face and a smudge of black under his nose like a
mustache, he was still as a statue in the shade of the aspen trees. Only
his eyes moved, watching the big red-headed human and the wolf kin moving
back and forth between the human place and the stinking box they had
arrived in. He bared his fangs at the memory of that smell. His nostrils
flared, picking up information from the passing breeze: the wolf kin was a
female, but he already knew that by the timbre of her bark. But the human
was male. A musky, healthy smelling human and the wolf felt the pull of The
Changing in him. He had been a wolf for a very long time.. perhaps too
long.

	***************************************************************

	By the time it was getting dark, I was beat. I made a couple of
sandwiches and stretched out on the couch to eat and read. I must have
drifted off to sleep because suddenly I was jerked to awareness by a howl:
echoing off the nearby mountains was the sound of a lone wolf. Howling his
loneliness to the world? Cherie's ears were up and quivering. She whimpered
and ran to the door. I followed her and opened it just as another howl cut
through the silence of the night. Goosebumps traveled down my neck and
across my back and I hugged myself.

	The moonlight reflected off the barn and the Rover parked close to
the front porch, turning everything a liquid silvery color. The presence of
the vehicle was in an odd way reassuring; I could always leave this place
if necessary. The unseen wolf howled again. This time it sounded less
lonely and more in tune with the dark beauty of the trees and the moon. I
stood there in awe contemplating how I could capture that sound visually. I
hugged myself again.

	There were no more howls and after a few minutes Cherie and I went
back into the cabin. I cleaned up the living room and Cherie followed me
down the hall to the bedroom. I had squeezed her bed into the space between
the head of the bed and the closet door; she ran to it and curled up. I
scratched her ears then stripped and crawled into bed.

	***************************************************************

	The boy was unsteady on his feet. He hadn't walked on two legs in a
very long time. But the memory of the red-headed human male had made him
curious and hungry for contact with two legged creatures. He half walked
and half crawled up the steps to the door. It was locked, but locks had no
real power to keep him out and he pushed the door open softly. His only
concern was the wolf kin: would she bark? He hoped not, he didn't want to
wake the red one. He murmured a soft sleep spell hoping he said it
right. His voice was harsh from lack of use and he wasn't certain that he
wasn't mixing up his languages. He sighed. Still in the half crawl, he made
a circuit around the room. The red-head's scent was everywhere: musky and
inviting.

	Straightening up he walked slowly down the hall, using the wall for
balance. He paused in the doorway to the sleeping den. The red-head was
asleep and so was the wolf kin. The boy crossed the room and looked down at
the sleeping man. He had been old, so very old, when this man had been
born. He sighed again. The boy reached out and softly stroked the man's
cheek, it was bristly and the boy smiled. He leaned down and touched his
lips to the man's temple, the red-head shifted in his sleep. The boy walked
around to the other side of the bed and lay down. He wondered what it would
feel like to have the red one's arms around him. He smiled and his eyes
closed slowly.

	***********************************************************

	There were no more disturbances and I awoke well into the morning
feeling strangely rested. I had not slept a full night in over six
months. I stretched and shifted in the bed. Glancing casually at the second
pillow on the bed, I sat up straight in shock. On the pillow was the clear
impression of a head! I leaped out of bed and ran down the hall. There was
no one in the living room or kitchen and the doors and windows were as
securely locked as I had left them the night before. Shivering in the
morning chill I searched the cabin, but there was no one there except
Cherie and me. Still I had seen that impression on the pillow!

	I paused in front of the full-length mirror in the hall outside the
bathroom. Looking back at me through ice-blue eyes was a tall, broad
shouldered man with shaggy red hair. I had been blessed with a complexion
that barely freckled so there were only a couple of freckles on my nose and
a light spray of freckles across my shoulders. Thick red chest hair covered
my pecs and belly with a light covering of hair on my arms and legs. I
wondered about growing out my beard to fit the "mountain man" image, but
decided against it. I preferred being clean-shaven.

	For the rest of the day the image on the pillow stayed with
me. Cherie reconned around the whole cabin and the barn when I first let
her out, investigating and barking. Something had been up to the cabin
during the night, perhaps the wolf we had heard earlier? However we saw
nothing out of the ordinary that morning or for the rest of the day. And
there were no further disturbances that night or the following morning.

	The third morning after arriving at the cabin I heard a noise
outside. Puzzled I went to the door and stepped out onto the
porch. Standing in front of me was a large black and white horse with a
white mane and forelock. Startled I stepped back. Cherie barked at the
horse, which shook its head and whickered.

	"Oh, I'm sorry."

	My head cranked around following the voice and found a young girl
of about 17, standing by the porch. She had light brown hair pulled back
into a ponytail and was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and denim
jacket. She came up and patted the horse on the neck.

	"You must be Jake's cousin," she said looking up at me.

	"Yes." I said. "I'm Joash Gardner."

	"Jo-Ash," she rolled the name around her mouth like wine.

	I grinned at her. "It's an old biblical name of a king."

	"OH! Wow, that's cool." She held out her hand. "I'm Karleen
Smithson and this is Pelka."

	Karleen introduced me to Pelka as solemnly as if she was presenting
the Queen. I was intrigued by the horse and the artist in me was fascinated
by the ripple and play of her muscles. I wondered how she would come out in
my art.

	Karleen was patient with me, teaching me how to tend for Pelka. I
received a crash course in feeding, cleaning and saddling her. Karleen was
lighthearted and laughed easily. I found myself grinning in return.

	"Remember, Pelka doesn't like the saddle girth tight around her
belly and she'll suck in air to make herself fatter," Karleen grinned, her
eyes dancing with mischief. "So you MUST make sure you pull the belt to the
sixth hole." She giggled, "Or you'll be bouncing along and suddenly be
UNDERneath her!"

	I grinned at her, both of us visualizing the red-headed greenhorn
upside down under the horse. I patted Pelka on the side and solemnly vowed
to make certain of the tightness of my girth before leaping into the
saddle.

	"With my luck," I said with a grin, "I'd just keep on going over
the other side!"

	Karleen laughed, "I've seen that happen before!"

	By the time she left, on her own horse which had been hitched to
the corral fence, I had put on and taken off Pelka's saddle a dozen times,
figured out the bridle, and hitched up the sled several times. I had been
given a crash course in feeding, grooming and mucking out of stables. Horse
101 in three hours!

	"Oh, you'll be okay," Karleen assured me before leaving. "Pelka is
the sweetest girl. She'll take good care of you. Besides I'll come up next
weekend and see how you're doing."

	Sounds good! Thanks!" I said

	I watched Karleen ride off towards the road thinking she would be a
pleasant friend to have around, someone to talk to on occasion. She was
good looking enough but I wasn't attracted to her romantically. After the
storm of my divorce, I wasn't in any rush to put myself back into that
situation again! From high up in the trees on the hillside, came a wolf
howl. I jumped, startled and hugged myself again.

	*************************************************************

	The wolf watched the human female leave. He growled softly. The red
one was his! His tail thumped the ground and he felt a howl bubble up in
his throat. Across the hills, the howl echoed. The red one looked up into
the trees, but the wolf knew the human couldn't see him. With a short
snarl, he disappeared into the undergrowth.

	**************************************************************

	Over the following weeks, Cherie, Pelka and I fell into a kind of
routine. We rose early in the morning, ate, then a short hike, often
bringing in wood, returning to work in the studio for much of the rest of
the day. I read a quite a bit and wandered the hills studying and sketching
virtually everything: turning it over in my fertile imagination and carving
the end results. We soon learned to tell when small things had changed in
an area we had been in a week or so prior. On one of my trips into town I
had bought several "survival" books on living in the mountains. I was
reluctant to try some of the food mentioned but come spring I'd hunt up
wild berries.  Many nights I heard the wolf howling, sometimes close by,
sometimes far away. The howl echoing eerily through the hills and I began
to understand the love and fear we humans had for those creatures.

	Karleen came up a couple times and we went riding and foraging for
wood. She taught me about horses and I taught her what to look for in wood
for carving. We became firm friends.

	I made weekly trips into town to buy supplies, get more books and
ship my carvings off to art galleries for sale. I also called my mother so
she could have plenty to complain about to her friends at home. Mother had
raised worry to an art form.

	 One afternoon shortly after the first of October, I was drowsing,
half asleep in the saddle when a movement out the corner of my eye caught
my attention. I cranked my head around in time to see a flash of brown and
gray disappear into the trees. At first I wasn't sure what it was but
slowly I started to think, perhaps it was the wolf. Why had he come so
close, I wondered puzzled?

	"A wolf?" the Fish and Game Warden asked in confusion, when I
inquired about wolves on my next visit into town. "There haven't been
wolves in these mountains in probably seventy-five to a hundred
years. There's wolves up in Yellowstone, but we're too far south of there
for wolves."

	"But I'm hearing one," I insisted.

	"Well..." he paused thoughtfully. "I'll make a note of it and pass
that information along to the Game Wardens and the Forest Rangers in your
area. Maybe it's a loner, got separated from it's pack."

	I shrugged. My next stop was the library. It was a small building
tucked comfortably into a stand of oak trees. For a small library it had an
amazing range of books and a very active inter-library loan. I was already
becoming a familiar face and when I asked where to find books on wolves,
the librarian merely smiled and led me into the stacks.

	Much to my surprise I discovered I was carving wolves. Not that
kitschy howling wolf you see in displays of Southwestern art, but graceful,
flowing images of wolves in motion. Sound given shape and dimension,
emotion with solidity. There was a majesty in the pictures of wolves in the
books I checked out that reached deep into my soul and came out in my
carving. Wild, free, lords of the forest, neither time nor man had managed
to eradicate the wolf. I was pleased with my result and so was my agent,
Anna, the next time I called her.

	"You have never produced anything more beautiful, Joash. Whatever
your inspiration is: KEEP A HOLD OF IT! Maybe I should have moved you into
the middle of nowhere years ago!" Anna said with a laugh. "And what are you
doing on the phone? GO! GO! Go sculpt!"

	I hung up with a laugh and returned to the Rover. The small town
was sleepy on this early Sunday morning. Only the convenience store was
open; I filled up the Rover's tank and bought a few things, mostly
junk. I'd start stocking up for winter pretty soon, but right now autumn
was lying over the mountains like a cozy, warm, chaotically colored
blanket. Leaves were falling and they swirled up into the air as I pulled
up by the cabin. For as far back as I could remember, I've loved the sound
of dry leaves scratching across a sidewalk in a breeze or the sound of them
being crunched as I walked through them. I smiled as Cherie ran around
crunching leaves and barking in pleasure at being home.

	I started up the porch steps; carrying the soda I'd bought in town,
and stopped dead, one foot suspended in air. Across the porch was a row of
tracks! The tracks were clear as if they had been stamped there: doglike
but twice the size of Cherie's.

	"The wolf," I thought.

	He, I assumed it was a he because of the size of those prints, had
been up on my porch! My first thought was Pelka and I dropped the soda and
ran towards the barn. Cherie joined me barking enthusiastically. The barn
was secured, both main and side doors shut; the drop bars in place. I
lifted the bar on the front door with shaky hands and peered inside. Pelka
whinnied. I practically ran across the stable to her. She butted my chest
with her head. I scratched her neck and withers; she shook her head and
whickered in pleasure. Relief sapped me of any energy and for several
minutes I just leaned against her breathing in the musky aroma of horse.

	I spent the rest of the day looking over my shoulder and going to
the door just to look out across the yard. Pelka was in her corral, I had
been worried about letting her out but it seemed so unfair to make her stay
inside. Especially as there seemed to be no threat in the wolf's behavior,
it was more like he was checking up on his new neighbors!

	Several nights later, I awoke in a sweat, my heart racing. From far
off I heard the wolf howling, but this howl sounded like an invitation.

	"Come to me" it said. My head was full of images from the dream I
had been having: images of a slender, lithe, dark-haired boy. He was
beckoning to me, promising to protect me. His face floated in front of my
eyes: thick, dark hair and large golden eyes framed by thick black
lashes. There was something wild about the boy that I couldn't put my
finger on, but it attracted me powerfully!

	I rolled out of bed and hobbled down the hall to the bathroom. I
hadn't dreamed or thought about boys since my early teens! I was puzzled
and slightly confused. Maybe it was stress or some leftover from my
divorce, but the memory of the boy looking at me with those gold eyes shot
frissons of pleasure across my belly into my groin.

	Over the next week, I dreamed of the boy three more times. Each
time I woke up surprised to find myself alone and in my own bed. The third
dream had the boy in it and a wolf: THE wolf, somehow I knew it was the
wolf, my wolf, as I was starting to think of him. Gray and brown with a
slash of white across his face: the wolf's face overlapped and merged with
the face of the boy. That image sent me running for my sketchpad and by
evening I had down on paper what I wanted to carve. I knew exactly which
piece of wood I wanted for it: a piece of very dark burl that I had chopped
out of a dead stump and held in my hands thinking that whatever came out of
it would be very special.

	The sculpture took me about four days: four days of carving,
sanding and polishing, but when it was finished even I was amazed. Somehow,
out of that chunk of wood, I had pulled both a human and a wolf face and
managed to overlap them so it wasn't a human with a snout and ears or a
wolf with a flat humanoid face, but truly a combination of both: an optical
illusion depending on how the head was viewed.

	I slumped back in my chair and just stared at the head. A shiver
ran down my back. It was the boy from my dream. I was exhausted, physically
drained by the effort of reaching so deep inside myself and for several
minutes I could nothing but sit there staring at the head. When was I
finally able to move I stumbled into the house and into my bedroom. Falling
onto the bed, my last thought before sleep overtook me was "Anna will be
very pleased."

	*********************************************************

	The boy balanced on the window ledge. He hadn't seen the red one
all day and he was concerned. The red one hadn't left this room for longer
than a minute or two in days. Whatever could have been keeping him in
there? And where was he now? The room was empty. The boy stepped lightly
onto the table under the window then hopped to the floor. He was steadier
on his feet this time. He peered around with eyes accustomed to seeing in
the dark. His heart took a wild leap in his chest as he recognized his own
head sitting on a stand in the middle of the room. He circled it slowly,
sniffing cautiously. It smelled of wood and chemicals. He slowly reached
out and touched it, his fingers sliding over the smooth grain. He smiled
softly. The red one paid attention to his dreams, unlike the majority of
humans.

	The boy pulled open the door into the main room and stepped
inside. The red one's scent was everywhere: heady and intoxicating. There
was a low growl from the hallway. The wolf kin was watching and guarding
her human. The boy made a soft noise and a short yip, the kin looked
confused. He approached her slowly repeating the yip. She sniffed him, the
wolf smell filling her nostrils. She rubbed her head against his leg and
whimpered in pleasure. The boy rubbed her ears and scratched her back. Now
she knew the wolf, he would never be a stranger to her again.

	The red one was sleeping, a heavy deep sleep that frightened the
boy. He touched the red one's mind gently. He was all right, only exhausted
mentally and physically. The boy lightly kissed his temple again. Now the
red one was marked by an ancient creature, all other ancients would see it
on him.

	The boy left him sleeping. The kin followed him up the
hall. Cherie, he had heard the red one call her. Cherie told him she was
hungry, thirsty and needed to go outside. He let her out. The wolf yearned
to run with her but not now. Not yet. She came in and showed him where her
food was and after some experimenting he was able to get her some water as
well. The boy stroked her thick fur. Not as fine as his fur but soft and
beautiful nevertheless. But the boy wasn't interested in the kin. He wanted
the red one.

	***************************************************************


	I slept for two days straight without waking either to piss or to
eat. I didn't dream either. I finally woke early in the morning as a stray
sunbeam slid across my face. I stretched feeling relaxed and
rested. Cherie's tail thumped the wall and she stretched up to lick my
face. I smiled and rubbed her ears. I started to slide back into sleep when
I glanced at my clock and saw the date. I sat up abruptly and threw the
blankets back. Two days! My animals must be starved! And the doors, had I
locked them before falling asleep? And what about the wolf? Had he been up
to the house? Pelka! Was she all right?

	I threw on clothes and shoes and ran out to the barn, Cherie as
usual hot on my heels. Poor Cherie hadn't been out in two days and her
first stop was a pit stop. Pelka was lazily cropping grass in the corral
and must have thought I was nuts when I vaulted the fence and ran to her. I
had been so certain I was going to find a half eaten horse in the
corral. Pelka snorted and shook her head at me. I leaned against her
breathing heavily. The rational part of my brain exerted itself and
reminded me that, based on what I'd read, a full-grown horse was most
likely a match for a lone wolf. Not to mention that wolves rarely went
after as healthy of prey as Pelka.

	I hurriedly fed her and checked her water trough. She munched and
whickered at me, perhaps sensing my agitation. While she ate, I gave her a
good brushing, working out some of the guilt I felt for sleeping so
long. Pelka twisted her head back several times and butted my shoulder or
lipped at my hair. I patted her neck and promised to bring her a couple of
apples next time.

	I returned to the cabin feeling relaxed and recharged and ready to
do some serious work. First of all I fed Cherie and gave her fresh water,
both of which she wolfed down. The door out to the studio was standing open
and a cold draft came through it. I walked out there and stopped in
shock. One of the windows stood open and, I guessed by the leaves on the
floor, had been open for sometime . I hurried over to the window and shut
it, my heart pounding loud enough to hear in the quiet room. Turning from
the window, my eye fell on the head of the boy/wolf. It took my breath
away.

	"I made that?" I asked the empty room.

	There was no one there to answer, but in the wood shavings on the
floor, sheltered from the blowing wind by the workbench was the print of a
bare foot. Unmistakably it was a five-toed human foot, not mine, it was
much too small for one thing and for another I would never go barefoot into
the studio. I had too much respect for the sharpness of my tools and
splinters in my hands were bad enough without running one into my foot!

	I leaned across the bench to look out the window, I'm not sure what
I was expecting to see outside, but there was no one there. However, in the
center of the bench was another footprint, a left one this time. So now I
knew how the person had entered the studio, I just had no idea HOW he had
got the window open! Fear trickled down my back. Cherie, who had been
nosing around the room, reached the print and gave a little woof. She
rubbed her head against the floor obliterating the print completely. I
stared at her. Someone HAD been in the house; someone had taken care of
Cherie while I slept. But who? Who was there up here? It couldn't have been
Karleen, she'd have knocked and come in through the door. I was shaking
now.

	Suddenly I bolted out of the studio. I was out to the Rover, keys
in hand before I stopped moving. I leaned against the Rover
shaking. Someone HAD been in my house and more than once! Someone had left
a head impression in my pillow the first night. But who? Or what? I
shivered again. Far away I heard a wolf howl, I turned toward the
sound. Cherie raised her head and barked loudly. Her bark bounced off the
hills and rolled off into the trees. There was another short howl, then
silence. The hills were still: listening, waiting. I pushed off of the
Rover. I would need a better latch for that window, I thought as I walked
back up the stairs and into the cabin.

	After that scare, there were no more surprise visits, though many
times I found wolf tracks around the house and barn. True to Jake's
prediction, we had snow by the third week of October. Cherie was thrilled
and ran around chasing snowflakes and barking. I was less pleased as I
stomped down a path to the barn and shoveled the area in front of the barn
doors.

	The morning of November first dawned sunny and clear of falling
snow for the first time in two weeks. I was standing on the porch admiring
the blanket of snow in my "front yard" and sipping a cup of coffee when I
heard engine noise coming from the road behind the house. I was puzzled by
the noise since I was certain that the road was impassable due to snow. A
moment later a snowmobile pulled around the front of the house and
stopped. A begoggled young man about my age hopped off and stamped his
feet. He pushed up the goggles and untwisted his scarf.

	"Hullo!" he said, he pulled his gloves off and blew on his hands.

	"Good Morning. Not often I get visitors up here," I said, holding
out my hand.

	He grinned and shook my hand with a firm grip. His face was ruddy
from cold but his eyes were bright green. I found myself grinning back at
him. Cherie circled him, sniffing and then offered him a kiss. He laughed
and scratched her ears.

	"I'm Forest Ranger Dan Green, call me Dan. This is my area." His
eyes twinkled in mischief.

	"Come in," I said stepping backwards and opening the door. Cherie
swept in ahead of me. "Have a cup of coffee."

	"Don't mind if I do," he said.

	Dan stomped his feet on the porch and followed me inside. Inside
the cabin he peeled out of his parka and followed me into the kitchen. He
leaned against the door and took the cup of coffee I offered him. He blew
on it and took a sip.

	"Ahh that's good." he sighed and waved away the sugar. "Nope, I'm a
he man! Have to have my coffee black!" He chuckled, his eyes sparkling.

	"So you're Jake Samuels' cousin? He told me you were watching the
place this year for him." Dan studied me over the rim of his cup.

	"Yeah, that's me. Joash Gardner," I said.

	"Jake says you're an artist?"

	"I'm a sculptor. But instead of stone, I carve wood."

	"That's cool," Dan sipped his coffee. "But what brings you out
here? Inspiration dry up in the city?"

	I studied his face: it was open and appeared genuinely
interested. I found myself liking him and for the first time in months I
started to talk about my divorce and it's aftermath. Dan listened without
interrupting. He nodded sympathetically and made occasional soft noises of
understanding.

	"Well, I'm terribly sorry for you," he said when I
finished. "Sounds like you did the right thing though, a little breathing
room is always a good thing." He grinned. "And there's plenty of room for
breathing up here!"

	I laughed and asked if he wanted to see the studio. He nodded and I
led him out to the studio. He admired my pieces enthusiastically until he
got to the boy/wolf head. He stopped and stared at it. He walked around it,
then around it again. He looked up at me.

	"That's amazing," he said softly. "Absolutely amazing."

	"Yes," I said. "I'm not sure just where it came from but here it is
anyway!"

	"I'm speechless," Dan said.

	"Well.." I paused. "I have been hearing a wolf howl and I guess my
subconscious just put it together with a boy." I blushed. I wasn't willing
to discuss with him the dreams I had of the boy inviting me to come to him
and promising to protect me.

	"Yeah, I got the report from Fish and Game. A wolf huh? Haven't
seen one of those since the last time I was in Yellowstone." He peered into
his cup thoughtfully. "Wouldn't mind havin' 'em back except for the fuss
the ranchers would put up. Which reminds me!"He looked up at me and flashed
that grin of his again.

	"The reason I'm here is not to empty your coffee pot." I grinned at
Dan and he grinned back, and then went on speaking, "I came up here to warn
you about reports we have received of a cougar in the area. We THINK it's a
female, which may mean kittens somewhere, or at least youngsters. Keep your
eyes open and beware."

	I swallowed and nodded. "Jake warned me about animals."

	"Yeah, well it was their home first, so..." Dan's voice trailed off
and he stared into his mug again.

	"I'll be careful," I said. "I have a rifle and I'm pretty good with
it." I held up my hand as Dan opened his mouth to speak, "but I'll take
care and try not to put myself into the path of a cougar!"

	He nodded. "You wouldn't believe how many guys we get up here that
think just because they can hit a paper target, they are qualified to stand
up against 100 plus pounds of charging cat!"

	"Wow" I said. I was half hoping I'd get to see the cougar: from a
safe distance, I was no fool, only an artist looking for inspiration.

	Dan stayed and chatted for about another hour. We both drank
several cups of coffee and discussed everything from snow to politics. I
found myself liking him quite a lot.

	"Say, you don't have a radio up here, do you? Phones won't work but
a good CB will keep you in contact with the Ranger station if need be or
the Smithsons down below."

	"No I don't. I guess I'm not quite as prepared as I thought," I
said with chagrin.

	Dan patted me on the back. "It's okay. I'll drop one by the next
time I'm up here."

	I started to protest but he assured me that it was no bother. I
made a mental note to pay him for the radio when he brought it. Dan bundled
back up and I followed him out onto the porch. The sun was warm and the
snow sparkled like tiny diamonds. I squinted against the light.

	"Just be careful, okay Joash?"

	"I will," I promised.

	I watched Dan disappear around the side of the house with a sudden
feeling of loss. For a minute I was tempted to run after him and invite him
back. I'm lonely, I told myself. But deep down I wondered if that was the
real reason. I had been, for lack of a better term, attracted to Dan. I
shook my head in confusion- I had been married after all! I couldn't be
gay! And while my marriage had failed, it wasn't because I didn't love her
or couldn't have sex with her! I returned to the studio to take some of my
frustrations out on a chunk of wood.

	November came and went with the speed of the wind. I managed to get
into town on Thanksgiving and called my mother. She was relieved to hear
from me and her relief went almost instantly into hysteria when I told her
the roads were nearly impassable and not to panic if I didn't call again
for a while. I listened to her rant and then cry and finally to beg me to
come home.

	"I am home, Mom." I said simply.

	The week after Thanksgiving I met the cougar. Cherie and I were
lying on the floor in front of the fireplace, Cherie drowsing and I
reading. Suddenly the quiet of the night was shattered by a blood-curdling
scream that brought both Cherie and I to our feet instantly. It sounded
like a woman was being beaten in our yard! But what woman would be up here
and at this time of night? The scream was repeated. I ran for the door
stopping only long enough to grab and load my rifle and grab the powerful
flashlight I kept by the door. As I opened the door Cherie surged past me
and ran out into the yard barking. The scream was repeated from behind the
barn. From inside the barn I could hear the sounds of hoofs. Cherie ran
towards the barn and I followed, my rifle ready to fire.

	I came around the edge of the building and stopped. Framed in the
light was the biggest cat I had ever seen, this cougar had to be almost 120
pounds! I swallowed and backed up. Cherie barked and the cat screamed
again. I dropped my gun and clapped my hands to my ears. This close the
scream drove deep into my ears and rattled me all the way to my toenails.

	After a moment I realized I was standing in front of a full-grown
hungry female cougar completely unarmed! Instinct told me to just stay
still and make no sudden moves. Slowly I eased my foot forward and pulled
the gun to me. The cougar screamed again and lashed her tail. Cherie
snarled, baring her fangs. The cat's tail snapped and she disappeared into
the darkness. Cherie started after it but I called her back. That cat would
make a meal out of my girl!

	Cherie and I did a cautious recon around the barn but the cat was
gone. I opened the barn door and went in to soothe Pelka who was sweating
and shaking in fear. I stroked her neck and spoke softly to
her. Remembering Karleen's cautions about letting her get chilled after
sweating, I found a towel and wiped her down. Gradually she calmed down and
butted my shoulder with her head. I gave her a good rub down and a
brushing.

	"From now on, it's in the stable by dark for you m'girl," I said
with a laugh.

	"Well that's a new one for me," I thought, "imposing a curfew on a
horse!"

	As I stepped out into the night, a wolf howl cut through the
night. He was close tonight, I thought. A breeze brushed my cheek, light as
a finger stroking my skin. I shivered. Another howl rolled out of the
darkness, softer, gentler, a loving howl. I waved in the direction of the
sound.

	"Sweet dreams to you to," I whispered.

	***************************************************************

	The wolf had followed the cat to the human place. He disliked cats
immensely. The wolf waited in the shadows watching the cat, she wanted into
the horse place. She wanted the horse. The horse was part of the red one's
pack, the wolf would never consider her food. The cat was loud tonight, the
wolf thought with disdain. Hunger was making her careless.

	Suddenly the red one appeared: he had a bright light in one hand
and a gun in the other. The wolf hadn't lived so long without knowing what
a gun was and he retreated a little further into the shadows. But he was
afraid, afraid for the red one. He was very brave, this human, but very
unwise to startle a cougar. The wolf waited. The cat screamed in defiance
and the kin, Cherie, he was pleased to remember her name, barked loudly in
return. The cat crouched and the wolf tensed up, but the cat slipped into
the darkness leaving the red one and the kin behind. The red one went into
the horse place and the wolf waited.

	When the red one returned outside, the wolf howled in pleasure at
seeing him again. The red one stopped: listening. The wolf howled again
softer this time, the man turned and waved his hand and then spoke. His
voice tickled the wolf's ears, a deep strong voice, the wolf was
pleased. He disappeared into the darkness.

	***************************************************************

	The following afternoon, Dan appeared on his snowmobile. He brought
me the radio he'd promised. I was out in my studio; I heard him and looked
up as he drove past the windows. By the time he got around the house I was
waiting on the porch.

	"I should buy me one of those things," I said, gesturing to the
snowmobile.

	"Yeah, they are great for getting around," he said with a
grin. "Just make sure you know where they are and aren't allowed."

	I gestured to the door and offered him another cup of coffee. He
smiled and accepted. I was pleased to have company; I hadn't realized how
lonesome I was until he showed up. He followed me in with a sigh of
pleasure.

	Dan set up the radio and showed me how to use it, all the while
balancing a cup of hot coffee in his left hand. I told him about the cougar
and he went pale. I was oddly pleased to see his reaction.

	"I've never been that close to a cougar! At least not without there
being bars between us. She must have kittens to feed if she's getting that
close to people." He paused and looked deep into his mug. After a moment,
he looked up at me.

	"You will be careful, won't you?" He asked softly

	"Oh yes," I replied. "I have no interest in messing with
her. However, I will defend myself and protect my animals."

	Dan nodded, "I would expect no less."

	I blushed and looked into my own cup. I wasn't sure exactly what I
was feeling but it was making me feel suddenly shy. To cover my
embarrassment, I started to talk about how much I was enjoying being at the
cabin and how different it was from winter in the city. Dan laughed and we
talked for quite a while and drank several more cups of coffee before he
left.

	Over the next two weeks, I heard the cat scream several times. But
usually it was far away. I made certain the barn was secure; much as I
hated doing it, I started chaining the barn doors shut so a paw couldn't
raise the bar. I was determined to keep Pelka safe. On the nights the cat
didn't come around I heard the wolf howling. There was something almost
defiant in the howl. I had the feeling, standing on my porch, that he was
warning the other creatures of the night to stay away!

	A new snow about a week before Christmas finally rendered me
completely cut off. I couldn't get down the road in the Rover and the snow
was nearly as hard for Pelka to walk in as it was for me. I talked to Dan
for a bit on the radio and he promised to get up to visit as soon as he
could, but he was swamped with Park Service duties and wasn't sure when
that would be. I was pleased anyway; I had a small gift for him. I also had
one for Karleen, who promised to come up soon as some of the snow melted
off and her horse could get up the road. So I was feeling very alone, one
night just dozing on my bed, when a sudden crash from the yard brought me
flying down the hall to the door. Cherie shot out the door when I opened it
and I heard the cat scream and then Cherie barking.

	I swore softly. The crash I had heard was the woodpile under the
lean-to next to the barn: the cat was trying to get into the barn. I've
never dressed faster in my life and in no time was running across the yard
to the barn, loaded rifle in hand. Cherie was barking and as I got there
she leaped at the cat. The cat swatted at her and slid down the woodpile
some more. She screamed in anger. Cherie leaped at her again. I was afraid
of hitting Cherie if I tried shooting the cat. I turned the gun around and
swung the butt at the cat. It bounced off her shoulder rattling me all the
way down my back.

	The cat slid down the woodpile some more. Cherie snarled and
leaped. The cat's paw caught her and she squealed in pain and rolled across
the snow. The cat scrabbled at the wood trying to regain its balance.

	"Cherie!" I yelled and ran stumbling through the snow to her.

	Cherie wasn't badly hurt and was on her feet by the time I got to
her. The cat meanwhile had managed to get to solid ground. She stood there
looking at us, her tail lashing in anger. Cherie started barking again and
the cat hissed in fury at her. The cat's back was to the barn door and I
could hear Pelka crying in fear inside.

	I pulled Cherie down the yard toward the corral. I was hoping maybe
we could get the cat to run if its back was no longer against the door.  I
really didn't want to kill the cat, but I wasn't sure that I would have any
choice in the matter. The cat crouched and snarled. Suddenly it leaped! I
jumped backwards and slipped in the snow, landing hard on my right hip.

	"Holy!" I thought. "Well this is it!"

	I lifted my gun, I wasn't going to be able to shoot it but I was
hoping to jam it into the cat's throat. Cherie lunged toward the cat when
suddenly out of the darkness burst a furry cannonball. It was the wolf, my
wolf and he hit the cat sharply in the side. The cat screamed and twisted
around trying to get at the wolf. She landed and skidded on the snow. Both
Cherie and the wolf were on her before she could regain her footing. The
cat screamed in pain and anger. She twisted around and reared up. Cherie
tumbled across the snow, then leaped to her feet barking.

	The wolf had also been knocked off. He stood panting, his teeth
bared and shining in the light from the house. He was a big, broad
shouldered creature, easily weighing 100 pounds or more. He was more than a
match for the cat, even though the cat had the advantage of longer front
legs and sharp claws. He growled a low noise that made the hair on my neck
rise, then leaped and sank his fangs into the cat's shoulder. The cat
reared up screaming. I covered my ears again as pain shattered through my
head. The cat shook her head swinging the wolf around liked a
dishrag. Cherie leaped at the cat's flank and the cat screamed as her teeth
sank into the tender flesh. The cat gave her head a snap and sent the wolf
flying.

	The wolf was back in flash. He snarled and leaped between her paws
aiming for her throat this time. But the cat wasn't falling for that; she
swung her paw out and caught the wolf who howled in pain. Cherie leaped at
her and sank her teeth into the cat's paw. The cat screamed. My gun was
unless in such tight quarters and I was afraid of shooting Cherie or the
wolf but I swung the butt at the cat again. This time it connected with her
head: the percussion from the blow threatened to dislocate my shoulder and
for a minute my hands were numb.

	The wolf leaped on the cat again. She twisted her body around
trying to bite him. I could see blood flowing from a half dozen places in
her sides. Cherie moved in again and the cat's paw caught her and sent her
arcing across the yard. Cherie howled in pain and hit the ground lying very
still. My knees wobbled and I thought I was going to puke. My girl! My
Cherie. I stumbled to her and dropped into the snow beside her. She was
breathing hard and whimpering. I cradled her head, tears running down my
face.

	Looking back at the cat and the wolf, all I could see was gold and
gray twisted around each other. I heard the cat screech and she reared up
again. The wolf growled and leaped again. This time the cat caught him in
the side and he flew across the yard with a howl of pain. Like Cherie, he
hit the ground and didn't move. Cherie struggled to her feet and stood
shaking and growling.

	The cat was also shaking and panting. Cherie took a couple wobbly
steps towards her. She snarled and with a lash of her tail turned and
limped out into the darkness. I grabbed up my gun and flashlight and limped
after her. She disappeared into the darkness of the nearby trees and I
wasn't fool enough to chase her. I hobbled back to Cherie.

	Cherie was nosing the still wolf. A lump formed in my throat.

	"Oh God, no," I whispered. "Dear God NO!"

	Almost as if he had heard me, the wolf suddenly jerked to its
feet. He stood panting. His fur was matted with blood, his and the cat's,
and his sides heaved as he struggled to breathe. I started towards him and
he growled, a low growl that sent chills down my back.

	"Easy boy," I said softly and stepped forward again.

	He growled again, louder this time and I was close enough to see
the wildness in his eyes. Pain maddened, I decided and I backed up
slowly. He had taken on a full-grown cougar; I had no doubts about his
ability to take me down. He shook his head and throwing it back let out a
long howl. The sound was pure triumph, the howl of victory. It echoed
across the hills and disappeared into the night. The wolf turned and
started away. Cherie ran to him and he turned to her and growled. She
backed up and he limped off into the night.

	***************************************************************

	The wolf hurt in every fiber of his body, but he had saved the red
one. Pain pounded through his blood stream and his only thought was that he
needed to sleep. He needed to rest. He wasn't sure he could get to his den
with what little energy he had left, but he had other hiding places. The
red one approached him speaking softly. The human's voice was gentle but
the wolf instincts were in control and he growled at him "Leave me alone."
The wolf threw up his head in triumph and howled. He howled for all the
world to hear: he had driven the cat away and protected his pack. He
started to limp away. The kin ran to him. "Leave me, take care of him," he
growled. The kin whined in assent and backed up. The wolf limped off into
the night. He needed sleep and he needed to hide, he was badly hurt. Very
badly indeed.

	***************************************************************


	Tired and aching in every muscle, I dragged myself into the barn to
check on Pelka. I was afraid she might have hurt herself in her panic. She
was unharmed and through a blur of pain I wiped her down. She butted my
shoulder and whinnied repeatedly. After finishing in the barn, Cherie and I
limped up to the cabin. I was tired and sore and almost unable to move, but
I was worried about Cherie's injuries becoming infected. Somehow I managed
to get a hot bath started and her into it. I washed her: scrubbing the claw
marks to remove any trace of dirt or blood. With the last bit of my
strength, I cleaned myself and then crawled into bed.

	I woke quite late the following day and except for the bruises down
my right hip, I would have thought the night before had been a dream. I
checked Cherie over and hugged her. There was a gash across her nose, but
fortunately the claws had missed her eyes. Also fortunately for her, she
had her winter coat and the thick fur had protected her from the cougar's
claws. My girl, she had been ready to lay down her life to protect Pelka
and me. I hugged her again. I fixed a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs
because I was starving; after eating and feeding Cherie, I headed out to
the barn to tend to Pelka.

	I stood at the site of the last night's battle, my mouth literally
hanging open in shock. The ground was a churned up circle of snow and mud
with blood staining the snow rusty. My stomach rolled up and I staggered
over to the fence and emptied its contents into the corral. Turning around,
I saw Cherie sniffing the mess. She looked at me and started whining.

	I walked over to her and stroked her ears. The tracks of the cat
and the wolf were spread out in front of me. I moved around the circle,
images of the last night's fight running through my head. My booted foot
slipped and I steadied myself with a hand against the ground. My hand came
away muddy and sticky with blood. My stomach rolled again. I limped up to
where I last saw the wolf. A trail of bloody tracks led off into the
woods. I stared up the track and then turned back to the barn and the mess
in front of it. I looked back up the track.

	"Come on Cherie!" I yelled, straightening up. "We can't just leave
him out there to die! Not after he saved us!"

	I sprinted for the house, Cherie hot on my heels. Suddenly I wasn't
as sore as I had been: my aches were washed away in a flood of
adrenaline. Inside I dug my backpack out of the closet and raced for the
bathroom. I threw several towels into it and the first aid kit, I had found
in the linen closet. I wasn't sure what first aid for a wolf would entail
but it was better than nothing. Into the bag I threw food and several
bottles of water for me. I filled a plastic serving bowl with dog food and
sealed it then shoved it into the pack as well. I also grabbed several
blankets; I would replace them if they got ruined. On my way out the door,
I grabbed my rifle and a box of ammo which I shoved into the pack as well.

	Cherie and I ran to the barn, carefully avoiding the battle
circle. I was certain the wolf would go deep into the woods where the Rover
couldn't get to him, but Pelka should be able to get me to wherever he was
holed up. And holed up he was certain to be, I had read enough about wolf
behavior to understand that. He would be hiding waiting for his injuries to
heal. Quickly I saddled and hitched Pelka up to the sled. I threw the
blankets onto the sled with my pack and jammed my gun into the saddle
holster: I was praying I wouldn't have to use it for any reason.

	Pelka shied when she got to the scene of the fighting and I
hurriedly led her past it. Cherie was nosing the spot where we last saw the
wolf; she looked up at me and woofed softly. I squatted down and scratched
her ears.

	"Find him, Cherie! Find the wolf!"

	She licked my face and leaped forward. She ran up the track about
100 yards then turned and barked at me. I grabbed the saddle horn and
leaped onto Pelka. Gathering up the reins, I tapped her sides with my
heels.

	"C'mon Pelka, let's go find a wolf!"

	Pelka neighed and started after Cherie at a swift, smooth pace. The
cold air brushed my face and I leaned forward. Pelka followed Cherie up the
track. I shifted in my seat impatiently. I would find him! I would save
him, I owed him that. He had pulled something artistically out of me that I
hadn't known I possessed and I owed my life to that wild creature and his
howl.



October 21, 2004

Well, golly, I had it all written and then in that half time before
completely falling asleep the wolf walked in and started to talk to me. So
I added about three more pages of narrative. I'm not sure about the
shifting narrative but It was interesting to try to get into the head of a
werewolf. AHHHWOOOOOO!

Revised July 8, 2006