Preview

My fearless friend taught me new and intriguing things,
such as how to get what I wanted, when I wanted it, and
how to get off scot-free. Through the winter months, my untamed
friend had ideas that clearly led me to stalking animals. What I
had not yet learned then was how to take their life. What I was
learning was inappropriate, but it felt great. I could feel the taste
of the kill each time, watering the back of my throat. It happened
one night, but I didn’t know if it was real or a mere dream.
It was late May and I was soaring through the forest, leaping
over vast brush and dead trees while my welcomed friend taunted
me until we came upon a young buck feeding itself. Stopping
behind a tree limb heavy with moss, I glared at the deer, feeling
my mouth water.
“Take it. You know you want to like I do,” my head suggested.
“I have taught you well, my friend.” While I was hesitating,
the buck noticed my presence and bolted. I, being the arrogant
hothead I had become, took off after him without thinking,
hurling over stumps and downed trees like they were nothing.
But the buck was faster.
“He hasn’t gotten off that easy,” my friend whispered.
Anxious to learn how, I whined, “Show me.” Without a wasted
moment, my friend took the lead, and we took off after that deer
like a bullet from a gun. I had never run so fast in my life.
The strength in my legs made the trees almost nonexistent,
like a painted background sans the full moon. It wasn’t longbefore I was on that deer again when he came around the tree
into my sight. Leaping over the brush in the way, I bared my
teeth and came down on the back of that deer, just missing the
horns, sinking them into the soft flesh of its neck. Struggling, we
both went down, but I held tight, draining his life while my fangs
sunk in deeper.
“That’s right, boy. Just little longer, and he’ll be finished,” my
head snickered. When the deer stopped panting, I also heard its
heartbeat stop. Getting to my feet, I paced around the thing just
to make sure it was indeed dead before I sliced its neck open with
my sharp fangs.
With the flesh exposed and the warm life running out onto
the ground, the aroma of the sweet smell was calling me like a
soft wind. Hunger-driven for the taste, I stuck my nose into the
wound, biting down on the flesh and tearing it away. My head
had been right so far when it told me we could do things out of
the ordinary and not get caught. But the feel of the chase and the
kill and the taste of the warm life-giving blood were incredible.
Then I came to believe what my friend said about the others
keeping such things for themselves. Swallowing a tender piece
of meat, I licked the warm blood with the tip of my tongue from
my jaws as I caught a faint smell of what I thought was smoke.
“Finish what you have first,” my head woofed. Without further
ado, I fed on the deer until I was satisfied.
Feeling proud of what I had done, I cleaned myself of the
remains and was ready for home when I heard a voice calling to
me—not my head though. It was coming from within the woods.
It grew closer as my fear grew stronger, but my curiosity bound
my feet from running as my tail hid between my legs. Staring
though the darkness at the trees, I thought I saw movement with
shiny eyes glaring at me. What stepped out from behind those
trees into the moonlight was gargantuan.
Standing not more than five feet from me was an enormous
wolf with a coat so grey it appeared blue or maybe it was due to
the moonlight. The eyes were so black they reflected the light at
me and the nose so shiny it glistened with moisture.
“He has come for your kill,” my head rasped in my ears.
“Shut up!” I snarled, looking at the creature in front of me.
“What do you want here?”
Sitting down on his rump, he sighed, “Do not fear me. I am
Waya. I have been watching you for some time.” Those large
bubble eyes could have cut me like a knife.
“I have heard of you,” I snarled.
“I have paid a visit in your dreams.”
“So who is Sandseff?”
“He and his two sons are my friends. The legends told today
say they are the forefathers. I have let that rumor ride for centuries
since no one really knows but those who have the true books
written in blood.”
I was about to ask how he knew me when my head growled,
“Do not whimper one word.” Knowing it meant my new friend
was lingering in me, I kept silent.
He caught my hesitation. “I know about your dark side. Come
with me. I have something I would like to show you that I think
you will be interested in.” He rose to his feet, and my eyes traveled
up with him until the moon hung between his ears.
“Where are we going?” I barked, feeling my nose wrinkle.
“See what the fool has to offer,” my head beckoned.
Agreeing, I growled, “Lead the way.” The animal raised his snout
into the air and inhaled. When he turned to leave, I followed at a distance.
Through the silent night, like a mated pair, I kept up with him,
leaping over fallen trees and creeks until we came upon the smell
of smoke, before I heard the voice. I dared not ask where we were
going in fear the creature might snatch me up by my nape. Not
long, I saw the light of the fire through the trees. Waya stopped
behind a large red oak tree covered in moss and sat down. I took
the liberty of easing over closer to peer around the tree at anold man with long grey braids on his shoulders and a young boy
with black hair and eyes, I assumed to be his grandson, sitting
cross-legged on the ground in front of the fire. It reminded
me of my father and Chief on those nights around a warm fire
telling stories.
Tuning my hearing, I listened to the old Cherokee teaching
his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said
to the boy. “It is a terrible fight, and it is between good and evil.
The evil is a creature that has anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed,
arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride,
superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The good is joy, peace,
love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy,
generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight could be
going on inside you.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked
his grandfather, “Which will win?”
The old Cherokee replied, “The one you feed.”
Realizing the story was in reference to me, I stepped back and
faced the large wolf. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he replied. “If you look closer, you will see they are
Jeremiah and you back when you were just a boy. You will need
to embrace the darkness within to find the strength to combine
both. Otherwise, that creature will take you to your death.”
Staring at the old man, I whined, “How is that possible?”
“Like the old man said, ‘It’s a rage inside.’” I watched the fire
flicker in his eyes when he continued. “You wolf ’s nature is kind
and loving, but the companion in you will make you become the
most powerful and ruthless creature you will want to know.” He
glared at me. “I chose you for a reason, Luther.” No sooner did he
say that than he, the old man, and the child faded as if they were
never there, leaving me to wake up alone.Patsy Deppe