The Lone Cry of the Wolf

© Copyright 1997-2014 - Crimson Dragon All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact

========================================================================
                           Snapshot #16
                     The Lone Cry of the Wolf
                            (f, night)
========================================================================
                  (c) 1997 - All Rights Reserved
                Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com)
========================================================================
She was disoriented as her eyes slowly opened. It was dark, inky
pools of shadow broken only by the pale light of a half moon that
streamed through the uncovered window above the bed. The darkness
surrounded her and suffocated her. The heat of the summer night
permeated her skin through the thin cotton of the sheet, through the
thin diaphanous nightgown. She licked her dry lips, and strained to
listen to the night.
The crickets filled the night with a symphony sweeter than any that
Mozart had ever written. She stirred, flipping onto her back and
throwing off the coverlet. She took three deep breaths. The crickets
were omnipresent, a background orchestra that would not have
awakened her.
She turned her head. His face was angelic in the light of the moon.
He was peaceful, though at her scrutiny, he turned over with a sigh,
never waking. He was still, not the cause of her restlessness.
At first it was faint, a low sound carrying above the symphony of
the night insects. It was a solo bass echoing through the darkness.
Then it came again, closer, and a bit clearer.
The wolf was calling to her again.
Gently, she swung her legs out. The floorboards were warm and rough
against her bare feet. The man who shared her bed stirred again as
she carefully lifted herself but lightly disturbed the bed. With
another soft sigh he reached for her warmth, only to find lightly
damp bedsheets. He smiled in his slumber and was still again.
Again the insistent voice of the wolf carried through the night,
beckoning her. Calling her.
She held the screen door as she slipped out to the dirt path leading
from the small cabin. The door, forever in need of oil, closed
quietly with a snick by her guiding hand. She listened again.
Closer. The call of the wolf was closer, and clearer.
She ran, oblivious to the sharp stones and twigs under her feet.
Arms outstretched, she laughed to the moon, and embraced the
darkness. The dim moon gave her enough light to make her way through
the forest. The trees surrounded her, like a long lost family.
Her eyes darted, left then right. There. She ran towards the stone,
unaware of where she was, or how she had arrived there. Atop the
boulder shone the lute. It glimmered in the night, radiating a
golden glow, beckoning her.
As she reached for the instrument, she saw movement at the edge of
the clearing. The gray wolf stepped out from between the tress and
regarded her with a quiet intelligence.
She snatched back her hand, age-old instincts reasserting themselves
into her mind. She prepared for flight. The wolf stared at her, but
didn't move closer as though sensing her fear and respecting it.
She closed her eyes, calmed her nerves and then reopened her eyes.
The wolf seemed to glow with a deep blue aura, sharply in contrast
to the shimmering gold atop the boulder.
Something wasn't right. Her fingers scrabbled at the thin cloth that
flowed around her body like a shroud. Taking a deep breath, she
slipped the diaphanous silk from her skin, tossing it to her left.
The night air kissed her damp skin as the garment fluttered
noiselessly to the grass.
Deep blue canine eyes watched the cloth as it dropped with neither
comment nor comprehension. Then the eyes returned to the now nude
girl.
She reached again for the lute, aware of the wolf, aware of herself.
The instrument felt light and balanced between her fingers, made for
her hand. The wolf's ears twitched, and then were still. The
omnipresent crickets ceased their symphony, as though in
anticipation.
She raised the flute to her lips and lightly blew. The music was
exquisite, echoing through the rapt forest. First one foot, then the
other. She moved to the sound of her music. As she danced carefully
down the forest paths, the wolf followed.
At the edge of the bluff, she allowed a mournful note to carry
through the night. At the last note of her solo, the crickets
rejoined her creating again the symphony of the evening. A moment
later, a soft howl beside her completed the movement. And then there
was silence but for the crickets.
The last fading note echoed from somewhere far below and it was
complete. Soft gray fur rubbed against her bare thigh, and then the
wolf loped away, looking back but once.
"Good-bye," she whispered.
Slowly she walked back to the clearing. The lute no longer glowed,
and as her fingers placed it in its resting place atop the boulder,
it disappeared.
Her eyes drooped as she walked back towards the cabin. Her silk
nightgown was gone, disappeared to whatever dimension the magic lute
called home, but she didn't care. She held the door from slamming
shut again as she re-entered the dark cabin.
As she slipped between the sheets, he stirred. He moved toward her,
and lay his head down in the crook of her arm. His hand lightly
cupped her bare breast.
"The wolf again?" he whispered.
She nodded, a single tear coursing down her cheek.
The lonely cry of the wolf carried over the crickets, beckoning her
again. But this time, she wouldn't go. She closed her eyes listening
to the night and wondering if she'd hear a quiet flute.