Wolf Out Of The Bag (1)

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-seek, I insisted the game be called hunter-and-prey. Even as we grew older, I would sneak up behind him to scare him. Running Elk wagged a finger at me. "You never even hinted that you were a frigging werewolf!"

"Council said not to tell anyone," I said with a shrug, "and Dad was always watching. Guess that means I can't complain about you coming out here tonight without telling me?" I raised an eyebrow at him and tilted my head, trying to look indignant.

"Yeah, you have no room to talk. But really, you couldn't even drop me a hint, Cuz? Me? That hurts, miniature wolf. And your mom, man!" Running Elk let out a nervous, choked-down chuckle. "Not quite the spirit I was looking for tonight. And to think she named you miniature wolf! No wonder you liked story-time so much. Did you pose for the covers? Oww, damn, Cuz," he exclaimed, rubbing his arm and glaring at me.

I felt terrible for my instinctual jab, but Mom's children's books were a tender subject. My dad and my grandfather had different reasons, but the same goal, as they attempted to convince my mom not to print them. I defended anything to do with my mom, now more than ever. I knew better than to let my emotions get the upper hand.

I grunted in remorse. "Sorry, Cuz."

"Aw, it's alright," Running Elk replied. "The books are awesome, and your mom ... "

Another long silence. Running Elk took in the grief still in me, finally looking away. When he looked back, his eyes held an appraising look that went on until I began to get uncomfortable. I moved back against the small rise behind us and sat down. It took a moment, but Running Elk finally joined me.

"This is the place, isn't it," Running Elk asked softly, gesturing to the space in front of us.

I tapped the ground between us, then had to look away. Memories warred within me. I could easily recall Dad's fight with the cougar. Dad took advantage of the distraction my arrival caused, lunging in for the killing blow. The cougar's blood mixed with Mom's.

The image of Mom's changing hand reaching for me warred with silver fingers, her reassuring smile when I tried to hug her intangible form battled with her grimace of pain as she writhed on the blood-soaked ground. Red and silver swirled together in my mind, the silver finally winning.

Like the river she took her name from, I thought. There's always more than what we can see from the surface. I let out a sigh. Running Elk scooted closer, his shoulder bumping my arm. We were content to sit in silence for a while,

"miniature wolf," my cuz finally asked hesitantly, "what about the other ones that were here? Are they werewolves too?"

"Just regular wolves, 'cept Dad," I replied.

"You sure?"

"I think so. They acted like wolves. Human wolves wouldn't fight for den territory," I explained. "It would be cool, though, finding someone else like me. I can't picture someone who could be a man, wanting to live his whole life out here as a wolf, raising kids in the wild."

"Like you?" Running Elk teased, jostling me briefly before getting serious again. "Your dad was the big black one, right? Stupid question," Running Elk answered himself, giving a small disparaging snort. "Of course, it was Uncle Black Wolf."

"Yeah," I replied with a grin. Everyone in my tribe called my dad Black Wolf. Only his students called him Mr. Wolcott.

"He's not a timber wolf," Running Elk said thoughtfully.

No, Dad wasn't like the thinner, lithe, and usually grey wolves found in and around the Rocky Mountains. Dad's wolf was stockier than the wolves found in America, completely black. My wolf form was mostly black, with the whites, creams, and greys I inherited from my mother in my neck, paws, and underside.

"European wolf, Cuz," I told Running Elk, "straight out of the Black Forest, just like he always said."

Another silence filled with unasked questions and a troubling look.

"Any werewolves in the rest of the tribe?" Running Elk finally asked.

"No, " I replied. "Dad bit Mom, way after they were married. She wanted him to. Council members are the only ones who know," I added.

A grunt was all I got in response, followed by another long pause.

"You're wrong."

Running Elk's pronouncement startled me. Did he mean he knew of another werewolf, or that someone other than the Elders knew? Neither of my assumptions made sense.

What am I wrong about, Cuz? I grunted to indicate that he should enlighten me.

"We didn't dream, and your mom's ghost doesn't qualify as an animal spirit guide," he told me with exasperation.

Ah, my little joking quip from a moment ago. So, no spirit guide for him, and still no spirit guide for me. Nothing like disappointing Grandfather again. Then I cheered up a bit. I wasn't out here for my dream hunt.

"You still have time," I told him.

"Hmm."

The silence was more comfortable this time. Until …

"So, your mom," Running Elk said, glancing at me briefly before fiddling in the dirt by his feet.

"Yeah," I sighed.

Now I knew for sure there was more to the supernatural world than just me and Dad. What was the significance of Mom's spirit showing up on the anniversary of her death? Right now, I didn't even want to deal with the thought of ghosts,no matter how magnificent it was having that last mangled image of her replaced by tonight's ethereal vision.

"Wish I knew more, Cuz."

"Hmm."

The silence drew out. Running Elk and I would break the world record for being talkative, I thought sardonically. We seldom needed words to communicate the important stuff. Usually, all we needed were a few looks and hand motions.

"Are you taking that ranger job?"

I grinned as he changed the topic to something more mundane, giving us both time to consider the supernatural aspect of this night.

"It's what I took all those college courses for," I said, brushing off his implied concern. He knew our grandfather had been pressuring me to take a job on the reservation.

Running Elk let loose something between a snort and choked down laughter. "You'd be able to cover a lot of territory as a wolf. Hate to see the looks campers give you when you show up," he said, still chuckling.

His glance at my manhood let me know he was talking about my undressed state after having shifted from wolf to human. Love you too, my ever-practical cousin!

                                         To Be Continued.