A Tale of Two Wolves

Within the Alexander Archipelago of Alaska sits a small, forested body of land called Mitkof Island. And deep within the island’s forest, secluded from the other 3,000 inhabitants, lives a young witch named Moon, and her two wolves. 

Moon was abandoned when she was ten, her only memory of her childhood is a story told to her by a ghost. On the eve of her birth, her parents decided to forage for mushrooms by moonlight, their only guide a full pale moon hung in the sky illuminating the forest path. Her mother was not expecting to go into labor. It must have been the scent of the Western Hemlocks and Sitka Spruces surrounding them, triggering Moon’s invitation into the world. As her mother bled out onto the forest floor, Moon’s life was just beginning. Her father named her Moon, for her round green eyes and porcelain skin, as he focused on the sky while carrying his daughter out of the forest and into the world.

He would tell her this story as a child, and so she always felt destined to be a guide in some way, leading others through the forest. One day her father left their coastal cottage to go hunting, and never returned. Some part of her knew this day would come, as she expected bad things to happen. She knew how to forage and her father had taught her the beginnings of hunting techniques, but she was no expert.

On a cool October evening, a week before her 24th birthday, she decided to forage mushrooms as an homage to her parents. She followed the path carved into the earth with her bare feet. The damp soil on her skin was a comfort to her. As she approached a Mother Spruce commonly birthing Porcini mushrooms, four golden eyes watched her through the darkness. She was not scared. 

With careful fingers she grasped the base of each mushroom and gently twisted them from the earth, placing each inside her cloth pouch hung around her waist, all while the eyes watched. She wandered towards the nearby stream and continued foraging wild blueberries and salmonberries; the eyes followed her.

At the moment she was ready to return home, she spoke:

“Hallo,” she whispered.

Her voice shook a little, not for fear, but because she hadn’t used it in quite a while. As if a call to the wild, the eyes emerged from the darkness and before her stood two black wolves. They were petite in stature, their coats blending perfectly with the night. She felt that there was something humorous about how she could only see their eyes, a trait that would’ve invoked fear in others, made her smile.

Her warmth enticed them and they slowly stepped towards the girl. She knew they were not dangerous - their faces, their eyes, told her that they were sent to her. Maybe it was the hawk that liked to keep an eye on her when she hiked alone in the daytime. Maybe it was her mother’s ghost.

They sniffed her from the waist down, as if they were calculating everywhere she had ever been her entire life. She reached out her timid hands and placed them on their backs, noticing how coarse their coats were, already thick for winter. 

“Hallo,” she whispered again, this time a tinge of excitement in her voice, and they followed her home.

The wolves were identical in appearance, but opposite in demeanor, which she would learn to understand over the years they spent living together in her father’s old cottage. She gave them names: Wolfbane and Starhowl. Wolfbane was vicious, ruthless, when hunting. As if born with a vendetta etched into his soul, he was her constant protector. Starhowl was sweet, sometimes timid, and liked to be close to Moon as if she were a common house dog. Although Moon didn’t even know what a house dog was. She loved them both deeply. They were her family.

Moon never had to hunt in the woods, for herself or the wolves - Wolfbane always provided for them. They three would forage together and he would run off for only a few moments, returning with a rabbit in his jowl as if by magic. As she plucked berries from the bush with Starhowl by her side, Wolfbane would leave and return again moments later, always with another critter for dinner.

They lived this way for quite some time, and Moon began to understand what family was again. Were they her parents, her siblings? She didn’t know. But they were consistent, protective, and they loved her.

One day they went into the forest and the bush carried a scent that had never been there before. All three of them noticed it. There was something intense and pungent, something human. She could feel eyes upon her once more but they were not the same as before, and when she turned to see the culprit, she saw a man:

A Hunter, covered in thick canvas clothing, something from another world to her, with weapons on his hips. She felt fear for the first time since her father left. 

“Hallo, my name is John,” he said, “do you need some help?”

She was confused. She assumed he would be the one to need assistance, for this was her forest, her path. She is the guide.

“No. I do not,” she spoke firmly. “Do you?”

He did not appear to be native. She had seen native people from across the river, their skin caramel with dark hair like her wolves. This man had fair skin and thin light hair, something like a ghost. She was unnerved but kept it to herself. What is this person? She thought.

As if listening to her thoughts, he answered:

“I’m here from the mainland. I’ve always been interested in this wild area of the land and I’ve come to explore. And hunt.” he added with a smirk, revealing his pack of dead critters. His words strung together in a way that made her think he talked quite often.

All Moon could think was, “what for?” Why come to a place which is not your home, and take from it? He seemed to have no understanding of this concept. A sense of entitlement she had never learned. She wanted him to leave.

Her wolves stood by her side through the interaction, watching intently. She realized that she must appear a bit intimidating to him, having two wild animals as her hunting mates. Although he did not seem intimidated by a woman at all, albeit her comfort in wandering the forest alone with two wolves - he did assume she was lost or in danger. His mistake. 

She remembered her divine protection and felt courage in place of fear.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked him.

“Do you have a kettle behind that tree there?” he joked.

She didn’t get it. 

“I live just beyond the forest’s edge. If you’d like to warm up a bit,” she responded slowly, calculating his facial expressions. He was easy to read.

John followed her through the woods, Starhowl by her side and Wolfbane in the back, until they reached the cottage. Smoke rose in a small plume above the chimney - the hearth was still alive. 

When they passed over the threshold into her father’s home, he seemed surprised that such a place existed.

“Wow! You live here alone?” he asked.

She had never heard the word Wow before. What does this mean? She wondered.

“I live here with my wolves,” she corrected him. 

He had never met anyone so wild before. 

“Let me make you some dinner,” he suggested. “Do you like rabbit?”

“Of course I like rabbit,” she barked back.

“Sorry,” she corrected, “We’ve lived here for many years. We eat rabbit all the time.”

“Well let me make it for you this time,” he said. 

And she let him.

The fire grew stronger when he placed the bare meat onto the hearth, and the savory smell filled the cottage while her stomach panged with hunger. What was this hunger?

When the rabbit was ready, he helped himself to her kitchen, pulling handmade wooden slabs from the open cabinets and placing a serving on each. He found a basket of berries on the counter from the day before, and placed a handful next to each serving, then carried the plates back to the fire where she sat, both wolves sleeping by her side. They’d already eaten their dinner in the forest.

Although a bit intrusive, there was something comforting about her new companion. Maybe it was the conversation, his openness, or her realization of what she had been lacking prior to his presence. She let him stay. She let him talk about himself. She listened to his stories about a world she never knew. It sounded terrifying. She was grateful for her cottage and her wolves. She was confused why a person would want to live in that world, and understood his inclination to leave, to explore something wild.

But she was more than a novelty, and she wasn’t sure if he understood this. She was just as wild as her wolves - just as terrifying. Her eyes played tricks on predators, giving the impression that she was soft and timid like the dead rabbits in his pouch. She was neither. 

She let him believe what he wanted. She watched him like yellow eyes through the bushes in the forest. He was too naive to realize what being hunted felt like.

He stayed in her cottage as the night grew older, then turned young again with the sunrise. She made them another cup of tea and assumed he would be on his way, back to whatever it was he needed to explore next. But instead he offered something else:

“I was wondering if I can stay here for a bit, to help you hunt, to be a bit of company,” as if she needed any help. 

But she was curious, not helpless, so she agreed. He didn’t understand the difference.

And so for quite a while, he would hunt each day by morning and return by evening with a pack of game for their dinner. She still went foraging with Wolfbane and Starhowl while they hunted for themselves. And it felt good but confusing, and then things began to change.

“Why do you still go out foraging and hunting when I can provide for you?” he asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Because I like to do it,” she said matter of factly. He hadn’t asked how she got her name, or how she was a forest guide. He didn't understand her identity, but he wanted to take it regardless.

“Well you really don’t need to anymore. Let me take care of that for you.” 

She felt a tinge of anger inside her chest and at that same moment Wolfbane growled. 

“Thank you, but I like to forage. It is important to me. My wolves can provide too.”

With this he became angry. Not all at once, but little by little. Each day as he left for hunting, he grew colder and meaner and she wondered why he stayed at all. They could go back to the way it was before he joined their tribe. She would be fine regardless. 

After a while of this, the wolves began tracking him while he hunted - he was unaware. They watched his techniques, monitored his movements, learned his style. A hunter never expects to become prey. It was quite easy.

He was mean to Moon - belittled her, told her she should move to the mainland, and what a waste of a life it was to be secluded in the woods, alone with animals as companions. She had never been judged before, and she did not like it. Some part of her knew this would happen, she was not surprised, but now caught with the predicament of solving this problem she had consented to. He would hit her, curse at her, and fill her body with a sadness she had never known, not even with abandonment. Even with this new fear emerging, she chose courage as a companion. With each insult, she grew stronger. And so did Wolfbane.

Wolfbane was angry too. All of the anger that John the Hunter poured into their home, Wolfbane collected like a scent on the trail. Each evening as John hurled his own violence outward, Wolfbane absorbed. As John’s need for control grew, Wolfbane’s need to protect grew even stronger. 

Ironically, John favored Wolfbane. He loved his ruthless hunting skills, his violence, his anger. He felt they were connected by this, not realizing that Wolfbane was only loyal to his Mother Moon. Each evening John fed Wolfbane some of the rabbit that he had hunted. He fed the violent wolf. And the violent wolf grew stronger still.

As winter arrived and snowfall became more frequent, hunting was more difficult for John. He wasn’t used to these harsh conditions and began to feel unnerved by Moon’s reliance on her wolves over him. One day he came home in a complete rage.

“How can you love wild animals more than a person who is providing for you?” he demanded

“How are you so unappreciative of what I can do for you? Do you want to be alone forever? All you do is push me away!” He screamed.

“I can be appreciative of you and still be loyal to my wolves, John,” she replied. 

But his world is not built this way, and he simply didn’t understand.

He grabbed a knife from his pack and lunged towards her, turning his anger towards the most wild creature he’d ever hunted. And still, she was not scared, for she was divinely protected.

At the same moment Wolfbane sprang up from the floor beside her, for he was only pretending to be asleep, and wrapped his jaw around the man’s throat, clenching hard. In an instant, the hunter had vanished, replaced by a bleeding and lifeless body. Wolbane growled at the corpse, filled with disdain. He never liked John but was willing to accept his rabbit for Moon. Everything was for Moon.

She looked down at the man now covered in a deep crimson, spread across her cottage floor, while the hearth crackled behind her. She met eyes with Wolfbane and gave him a slight nod, and with that he dragged the body out the front door and into the forest’s edge. He consumed the tastiest parts of the body and left the remains to rot - the bald eagles could have the rest. Moon stayed inside with Starhowl and made a cup of wild mint tea. 

When Wolfbane returned, she laid on the wood floor with him and fell asleep with her head against his warm, coarse fur, and Starhowl at their feet. This was her family.