THE MINIATURE WOLF

"Son, pay attention; keep your feet on the ground and stop climbing trees. miniature wolf, be careful where you put your paws, so you don't leave tracks. If you aren't going to eat them, leave the squirrels alone. miniature wolf, get over here and tell me what you can smell ... "Dad's training from my childhood echoed in my mind as I moved through the nighttime woods. I took a deep breath, trying to dispel the memory of blood-tainted air. My eyes automatically sought the best path as I blinked back tears. I glided with ease through the bushes and scraggly underbrush in this part of the wilderness. Moonlight slipped through the leafy canopy, reflecting off the occasional rock that poked through the ground here and there. I avoided those pockets of luminescence without even thinking about it.I traveled by instinct, my paws barely touching the ground. My mind was unable to focus on my surroundings. I hadn't wandered these woods since the night my mom died a year ago. Memories of my dad

Things became awkward fast. I let go of my cousin's shoulder and stepped back a bit. I could tell Running Elk needed a moment to take it all in."You ok?" I asked with concern.Running Elk shook his head, taking half a step backward. It took a moment before words managed to spit their way out my cousin's throat. "Ok? Damn, miniature wolf, you always played up the wolf you were named after, but to actually be ... "Running Elk paused, his eyes a little glassy and his breath unsteady. I gave him a small smile. The times I'd daydreamed about showing someone what Iwas couldn't compare to having revealed it to my cousin this way. The nervous fear I could smell wafting from him had me worried."I'm still me, " I reassured him. "You've known me your whole life. Me being able to become a wolf doesn't change who I am, who I've always been."My words seemed to soothe him. He snorted."True, you've always been ... wolfish."We shared a grin, remembering our childhood.When we played hide-and-see

Loping back toward home in the predawn darkness, shoulder to shoulder with my dad, gave me a sense of comfort and completeness. We Had connected up during the night, getting to know our new neighbors. Dad and I had left the new pack behind, the two of us mock-fighting, hunting for small game and playing together.Dad and I were so close physically that our shoulders or sides touched most of the time. We would part for the occasional leap over an obstacle then come back together again, both of us needing that closeness. We had the same pace, and similar heights now. Dad was still huskier than me, and I was a bit taller in the shoulder than him. I could only hope that we would be closer emotionally as well. I know he loved me, but the last year, especially the last few months, had been hard and lonely with Mom gone.Our home was on the outskirts of our little community, right up against a stand of trees. Dad led the way along the row of bushes to the opening in the crawl space under our

I didn't feel like listening to another lecture, especially without Mom around to keep things from exploding between my dad and me. I also didn't want to lose the camaraderie my dad and I had tentatively found. He sounded tired and looked drained, but managed to pull on hidden reserves to get him through this.The way he was looking at me wasn't his usual condescending smirking glare, nor was it the demanding drill instructor, the no-nonsense-tolerated, stiff-ass attitude I often got from him when he taught me anything about being one with the wolf.It took me a second to realize he was going to try and speak to me like an adult, someone of equal standing. It's about time, I thought triumphantly. I took a breath and leaned forward a bit myself. I didn't trust myself to say anything other than, "I'm listening."Dad gave me a small, wane smile. I was sure his usual way of talking to me was ready to come out the second I acted immaturely enough, in his opinion, to blow it. His self-depre

I took a moment while out of Dad's view to wince and rub my shoulder. I stuffed the very wrinkled bag in the back of my sock drawer without even looking at it. Peeling off the ripped shirt, I threw it in a corner. I had to bend over some to take a look at my shoulder in my dresser mirror. Touching it gingerly, I knew I was going to be sore for the next few days.No clean shirts left in my room, which meant nothing to hide the bruise that was working its way across my shoulder. I resented that grip but knew I wouldn't have stayed if it hadn't been there. And I had promised to listen.I demanded to be treated like a man and got more than I bargained for.His words about possibly becoming a rapist came back to me. He never said he had, only that the struggle in a crowded city was too much for him, how finding mom had been a godsend.I didn't want to ask, but at the same time, I was desperate to ask, to be reassured that my dad was who I always thought he was.It was my turn to try and st