Never Drink with the Wolf

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

She had been distracted, searching for mushrooms and lost track of the sun. It was the light from the candle that shook her. Took her attention. Stopped her. She did this track every season, wandering underneath the pine trees searching for saffron milk caps. It was always safe. It was always private and peaceful and the few others that walked the path, were familiars. Happy people getting in touch with nature and sharing found produce. Happy locals. Happy tourists.

At dusk though, today, something was not quite right. The candle in the cabin.

The cabin had been a loss, abandoned, unkempt. Playful rumours of witches and murders, but in reality, it was just forgotten and neglected by the family that made it a holiday home. For some reason unbeknownst to the community, it was just left alone.

The candlelight kept blinking, and she didn’t know why, but found herself just stay frozen, watching. Hairs prickling on the back of her neck and breath shallowing to not make a noise. Was there someone inside? Or was she the intruder?

Prying in on this little place along this secret path. Senses heightened, she noticed the quiet, nil other sounds, too far from the road to hear cars, a little bit too past dusk to hear birds. She crouched to watch and just gather herself because something was up. It was darkening, quietening, it was becoming colder with the light lost.

She felt transfixed on the candle and any chance to see something more in the window. Dizzy almost, so she slowly moved herself to lay down on the leaves and watch. It was cold. It was the dark woods, a few weeks before snow, where the mushrooms were at their peak. She lay and watched the window, the candle… and of course, a short while later the shadow emerged, moving behind the light. She was strangely hypnotised to just watch the window, the figure, the light and to stay very very still.

She tried to decipher whether it be a witch. Like the gossip had said. A witch that collected parts for spells or sacrifice. She stayed very very still, for a long time, trying to make out the shapes and movements, she realised, it was a wolf.

His thick coat was greying; his mouth was ajar, and he stumbled around in the cabin. Disorientated. Half asleep maybe. In pain maybe. The woods were still. Still. No other sound but now she could hear his staggered steps on the floorboards and a heavy pant. She was frozen on the ground, transfixed on the lighted frame. He looked out the window, he felt something too.

She saw him smile. It wasn’t a friendly smile, but the other type of smile. Yet she stay frozen, in case he didn’t know. He stayed smiling out the window until suddenly the flame of the candle, he looked at it gently, and poof, blew it out without a another thought.

It became dark as midnight.

He followed the scent by primal function, seduced by the lull of the lingering air and without conscious effort found a sleeping girl amidst the fallen leaves. He stopped a few meters short, deliberating with a fixed stare on the girl who was miles from her rightful place. Senses heightened, pupils pinned, the wolf determined she was edible but contravened the impulse and wait instead.

“No rush,” he said quietly.

He would meditate and when awakening would start with her liver.

He fed only every other season. He learnt the tricks to pull a mushroom forager in with a candle. He searches for campfires, the unlucky and those that are cold.