How many years, how many packs, how many wives and children filled his past? He had lost count. He was still the most respected and honoured as leader of the wolf pack. Remembered the days when he and his tribe were hunted. Humans armed with weapons, killed for their fur, just for the fun of it, his revenge had mounted over the years and today, he was just too tired. Justice always has its rewards. The humans were now fighting each other, so perhaps this was their just reward. The pack still lived in the forest, but would follow him, nearer to the town every day . There was a pregnant silence that now hovered over the concrete ways and houses. Waiting until men would hunt men, killing what was in the way. In a way he was satisfied, they now have their just rewards. So they should die, mercilessly and with no honour as my children, wives and brothers died. They had no sorrow for killing us; after all we are just wolves.
One evening he risked a visit into the town taking two of the strongest; just for a look, just to see how much the human spirit was broken. Buildings with broken glass in the windows, some bodies lying on the pavements, barely clad in their tattered garments. He told his fellow wolves to be very careful, there might be some humans looking for prey. It was then that they saw in the distance three men, but not armed with guns. They sleeked quietly in the direction, the smell of human sweat and fear in their nostrils. It went quickly, the wolves took revenge and dragged the dead flesh back to their women and children. Their leader howled to announce their arrival and all was good.
The wolves were re-occupying their lost territory. What was once wolf habitat was slowly again being conquered. The wolves increased in numbers and it was soon that the humans lived in fear of them and hid. One evening something changed. He noticed something was different, just a small item, but there was a sweet smell in the air he very rarely noticed. He then heard a cry, a soft cry, but persistent.
“Come brothers, let us see what is there” and they entered an old house. The noise became louder and more intense. The pack entered a room and he warned them to be careful. He then saw it moving on the floor in a corner, wrapped in a once white cloth, but now showing the traces of dirt gathered over time. “How dirty are the humans” he thought and went closer. He picked up the writhing something in his jaws by the cloth and decided to bring it to his lair as a living trophy.
The returned to their females and children and he placed the small human baby on the ground amidst his folk. The female wolves were suspicious and so were their kin, but in every civilised environment there is an exception, even amongst wolves.
“What have we here?” said the leader’s chief woman “so innocent and small and smelling so sweet” and she licked it with her long pink tongue, carefully.
And so the others in the pack came closer and watched. The leader was satisfied. In his far gone memories he had thoughts of a town once founded by humans brought up by wolves. He did not know if this would happen again, but wolves were not monsters. They were animals looking after their own kind, and he decided so low that the human race had sunk, the wolves must rise and show that love and understanding could perhaps heal and renew the world. With time the wolf pack rescued some of the babies weaning them on their milk and the babies grew up together with the wolves.
The great chieftain of the wolves decided his time had come and one day he rested his head and body for ever, but his pack remained holding his memory in honour. Wolf and man were now united and if the world was now a better place to live – who knows?
Pictures and Words: Week 3
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