The Way of the Wolf
Part. 1.
Our host, over dinner, told us the tale of the local wolf, who had been murdered centuries ago, and was blamed then, and forever, for any evil deed that only a man would commit, thoughtlessly, on his fellows. A tragic tale of a scapegoat used as a means of escape for one barbaric act.
After the most complete five courses of lovingly created fayre, and locally made cheese and bread, I spoke directly with him of my last days horrible chase and how I felt haunted and lost upon the frozen mountain trail. He saw that I was in a state of considerable agitation and in need of help. It was then that he told me that he was a good spirit put there on the junction of the roads to help those needing support, guidance and friendship to take the correct steps towards discovery of their path.
The transformation of a man to a wolf then back to a man.
The humped back, silver toothed jongular driving me to meet my fate with snow blizzarding along our path; hiding our footprints. My delay with a memory of the knights of Saint John put my foolish guide ill at ease. All his efforts were in vain; as he was unable to force my feet beyond redemption. So voice or something called me back and forced me to stay there to save my precious heart.
He was a most peculiar man hopping from foot to foot, with his silver stare, his tarnished grin and the weight of his back bending him almost double within the domain of the knights.
Unable to speak the certain words to charm me again for his deliverance and lift his curse I pressed on through the snow towards the Chapelle St. Roch with him at my heels and pushing my stide; chasing me towards his final chance to deliver me.
The race I had begun was not something I thought I would contend with without choosing of my self. When he saw my fate was not in his reach he moved on to another victim. The orange ogre was without a smile and a little love only.
I was caught in a trap like a rat in a cage or a butterfly formulated on the pin. He forced me to bend at the knee for him; I thought this was for a blessing but was sudden to realise he meant to manacle me. Once I saw his silver canine twin sets of twin teeth I recoiled in shock, realisation and awakened from the dull sleep he had placed on my head.
Once I realised the fact that I was being occluded in this desire I stepped forth leaving the snow, heavy clouds and the fool tumbling over his footfalls and arrived to be brought to safety in the home of pilgrims; I saw him not from then on.
I retired with a haunted mind and a pained expression, but felt relieved to have escaped alive.
In the morning the lady of that Maison provided me a salve to protect me from the false threats that had almost taken me from the purpose and meaning of my reawakening and now out of that place I follow a snake like path to hope, solace and encampment.
Walking away safely singular once more I knew then that a kind wolf had been benevolent towards me taking me in and repairing me to walk onwards without the possibility of doom.
An animal is a beast, but a man can become a monster.
Comments