Written for the Exchange at Fic Corner 2014. Thanks to Rosencrantz for beta-reading.
When Max was very young, his mother showed him a secret thing. They were walking together around the neighborhood, and she stopped to point out a cat lolling on the pavement.
"Watch closely, Max," she said. "I am going to show you something."
The cat sat up as they approached. It lashed its furry tail and lazily stretched its claws. Max's mother crouched down, tucking her skirts out of the way, and gazed into the cat's yellow eyes for a long time without blinking. The cat gazed back. Its tail stopped lashing and its claws were sheathed. It rolled over to expose its belly.
Max laughed. "How did you do that?" he said.
Max's mother rubbed the cat's belly lightly with her long fingernails. "It is a magic trick," she said. "When you are older, you will be able to do it yourself."
The next time Max went outside, he tried staring into the eyes of a cat as his mother had done. But his eyes watered and he had to blink. The cat rose to its feet and disdainfully walked away.
But Max did not give up. He stared at sparrows, at cats, and once at a ferret that an old woman was walking on a leash with a little harness. By the next winter, he was able to stare long enough without blinking that the cats had to look away first. By the next summer, the cats rolled over and let him rub their bellies, and the sparrows chirped at him without flying away. (He didn't see another ferret.)
Max ran and told his mother, "I can do the magic trick now!"
She smiled, the smile that showed her teeth. "That is good," she said. "That is very good."
Max was so excited that he jumped onto the couch and stared at their little white dog, Snowy. Snowy only whined and tilted his head, looking confused.
"Mama, Mama," Max called. "Why can't I do the magic trick on Snowy?"
"Because he is tame," his mother said. "The magic trick only works on wild things."
"But it works on all the cats!"
"Cats may be pets," his mother said, "but they are wild all the same. They were never tamed, not truly. It was their own choice to move into human houses long ago. A wild thing that lives in a house is still a wild thing."
Max was not sure he understood, but he was very pleased to have learned the magic trick properly.
The next thing that happened was that his mother sewed him a wolf suit. She sat down in her favorite rocking chair with her lap full of cloth. Next to her was a basket with spools of thread and the big scissors that Max was not allowed to use. There was also a little jar full of spiky green leaves, like pine needles but shorter. Before she began work, she took some of the leaves and crumbled them, rubbing them between her hands.
Max came closer and sniffed her hands. He liked the smell and the way it made his nose tingle.
His mother smiled and stroked his hair. "You may stay here while I work," she said, "but only if you can sit still."
Max did not sit still. He lay on the carpet and kicked his legs, but his mother did not seem to mind. He turned his head to watch her. She sewed with a peculiar curved needle, and as she sewed, she sang. Her song was strange and wild. It made Max think of wolves howling, or the birds chirping at each other in the very early morning before it was quite light.
When the suit was finished, his mother gave it to him. It was white and buttoned up the front. It had tall pointy ears, and claws for his hands and feet, and whiskers for his face, and a fine bushy grey tail. Max was delighted and put it on right away. It gave him an odd shivery feeling, as if he could run for ever and ever without getting tired. He ran around and around the house until his mother told him to stop.
Running over the carpet was not quite satisfying, anyway. A wolf should have a forest to run in! So Max decided to make a forest. He went to the linen closet. He wanted something with leaves, deep dark leaves like a forest, but there was nothing like that. He took a sheet with flowers on it instead. And then he took all the handkerchiefs and tied them together to make a rope. He thought he would nail both ends of the handkerchief-rope to the wall and drape the blanket over it, and then he would turn out the lights and hide there like a wolf in its lair. And if any little rabbit or mouse came by, grrrr! he would eat them all up!
But his mother came along while he was still nailing the second end to the wall.
"Max," she said in the voice which meant she was not pleased with him, "that is not what you should be doing."
"I'm a wolf!" Max yelled, and he ran away.
Snowy ran up to him and wagged his tail. Max scowled. "Don't wag your tail at me!" he said. "I'm a wolf, a big fierce wolf! I'll eat you up!" And he ran to the kitchen to get a big fork, and then he chased Snowy up and down the stairs. Snowy thought it was a fine game, but Max's mother did not.
"Max!" she said. "Stop chasing Snowy. We do not eat our pets. And that is not what you should be doing."
Max did not care what he should be doing. He threw back his head and howled like a wolf. Snowy whined and crept under the couch.
Max's mother smiled slowly. Her eyes were very bright. "You are a wild thing," she said. "Now, is there somewhere you need to go?"
"I'll eat you up!" Max yelled at his mother.
"No," his mother said firmly, "you will not. You will go to your room at once, and without any dinner."
Max went up the stairs on his hands and knees, shouting "I'm a wolf! I'm a wolf!"
Once he had gone up the stairs, his mother smiled like a wolf or a wild thing. She said aloud, "His senses will be keener if he's hungry."
Max ran into his room and slammed the door. His skin seemed too tight, as if it were too small. No, it was the room that was too small. He stared at the walls of his room until trees began to grow around his door and leaves sprouted from his bedposts. The forest grew and grew, and grass sprouted from the carpet, and vines came down from the ceiling, and it was not too small any longer. It was a huge dark forest where a wolf could run. And run he did, leaving his room behind.
Sometimes he was running on four paws, sometimes soaring on great wings, and sometimes he was sailing in a boat over dark waters. On and on he went, until he came to the island of the wild things. Some of them had fur, and some had feathers, and some had fine curving horns, and nearly all of them had big sharp teeth. But Max was not afraid. He knew what to do, because his mother had taught him.
Max stared into their yellow eyes without blinking until they had to look down, and they called him the most wild thing of all. They bowed to him and made him their king. And so he was king of the wild things and they did whatever he commanded.
At last he was tired, and a little lonely, and perhaps he missed his own room a little bit. So he went back home.
When he came back to his room, he found that his mother had brought his dinner after all and left it waiting for him. It was still hot and smelled delicious. He ate it all, since raising a rumpus with the wild things had made him very hungry. And then he went back downstairs. "Mama, Mama!" he said. "I am the king of all wild things."
His mother smiled in the way which meant she was proud of him and said, "Yes, my dear. And so you are."