THE SHE-WOLF AND THE RAVEN
Chapter 3: Thaw
"It happened long ago that K'wati journeyed all over the land setting the people aright and instructing the people that would come in the future how they should act…..
"Then K'wati went on and reached the Quileute land. He saw two wolves. There were no people here. Then K'wati transformed the wolves into people. Then he instructed the people saying: 'The common man will have only one wife. Only a chief may have four or eight wives. For this reason you Quileute shall be brave, because you come from wolves,' said Kwati. 'In every manner you shall be strong.'"
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In the deep snows of that winter, Leah curled her grey, shaggy form into a ball and tucked her head into her legs. The foggy clouds of breath intermingled with the falling snows and she watched in fascination as the light flakes of snow fell from the sky and upon her nose. She snorted and dislodged the few that sat on her muzzle. Her belly still full from her latest caribou and with little else to disturb her, she gave a wide yawn and contemplated taking a midday nap.
A sleek, dark shape peered down at her from the gaps between pine branches. With a flutter of feathers and a loud caw, the raven flew to a lower branch and cocked its head to one side expectantly. Its dark eyes twinkled as it gave a hop and ruffled its feathers again.
It wasn't the first time Leah had been followed by a raven. The intelligent birds were known to trail wolves, direct them to fresh carcasses, and even play with their predatory companions on occasion. The ravens, seeking their own meals through the efforts of the wolves, felt no qualms about patiently trailing wolves through the forest.
This raven, though, was unusual. It had trailed Leah for more than a fortnight, at first from a distance, but gradually growing bolder as it grew easy in her presence. As expected, the raven ate its fill from Leah's kills and, once or twice, alerted her to the direction of a herd of elk far out of her scent range. What first caught her attention was the raven's solitary travels. The raven was accompanied by neither mate nor group of rowdy, juvenile youngsters. It was alone. Always alone.
She would have easily dismissed the shadowy bird if not for the raven's change in behavior one day. At first, Leah thought she was imagining it when pine cones fell upon her head from the overhanging trees. As it happened again and again, each time accompanied by a rustle of wings, she lifted her great head and growled into the branches.
Another cone hit her square on the nose and she leapt into the air and turned around to search out her assailant. A cackle erupted from far above her and she snarled at the shape she could not see. There, not six feet from her, the raven peered at her with an open-beaked expression and eyes more intelligent than she'd ever seen in a bird before. The raven's confidence bordered on arrogance as it came even closer without so much as a hint of fear.
The raven took wing and swooped to give a solid peck at the soft spot between her ears and then flew...not far or fast enough to escape her, but just enough where she thought she could catch the scoundrel. She growled, lunged, and fell on her face when her paws met solid ice instead of powdery snow. The raven gave a smug cackle that reminded her so much of laughter that her anger multiplied like a bonfire with dried leaves.
She tore after the bird in full speed and the raven gave a delighted squawk and led her on a half day's chase through the forest. Later, she had no doubt it was the raven who led their chase. She never caught the bird, but she did get a mouthful of pine branches from a tree that materialized from nowhere, a twisted ankle from the hole that sent her headfirst into a snowbank, and wet through from the frozen lake which collapsed under her weight as soon as she left the safety of the shore.
As she sank onto a snowy meadow, panting heavily and acceding her defeat by the small bird, the raven turned back to alight on the snow a few yards from her. It bounced lightly across the snow until it was within a single leap of Leah, cocked its dark head to one side, and cawed loudly. Then it lowered its head and fluttered its wings in a manner which almost resembled a solemn bow before it took wing again and was gone.
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The raven returned the following day. It swooped down from the grey, winter sky without a warning and cawed so loudly behind her that Leah nearly jumped. She growled and bared her teeth. In response, the raven dove towards her again, landing a solid peck on her head. The raven continued this irritating ritual until it drove Leah to anger and succeeded in inciting another chase through the powdered snowbanks along the frozen river.
The raven did not leave at nightfall. As the full moon cast a fey glow through the dancing shades of pines, Leah could just make out the dark silhouette of the bird above her, its head tucked neatly into its wing, and its breast rising and falling with its soft breaths.
By dawn, the bird was gone.
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From full moon till only a sliver of a crescent remained, the raven trailed after the grey wolf through the dense Canadian woods. She tolerated its antics for no other reason than she could not truly escape the stubborn bird. Within her, she knew she did not mind the loose camaraderie they had. For two creatures born to be part of a family, innately wired for lifelong bonds with their mate and kin, she wondered if her own gnawing loneliness also dwelt in the feathered breast of the raven. She did not know how to ask, but she let the bird be nonetheless.
It was on a clear day when the sun shone in finger-light through the tall trees that the raven prodded her into another round of ceaseless chasing and games. The raven never let her win nor let her refuse its insatiable quest for play. This time, the raven disturbed her from her afternoon bath and led her at full speed into the center of a clearing. The loose ring of dark green pines fringed a small patch of perfectly undisturbed snow, fresh from three nights' before. Leah darted into the center and flopped into the soft powder, burrowing her nose into its dry, grainy flurries and doing her best to mar the pristine surface with her tail.
As her tongue lolled from her mouth in a happy pant, she turned her head to each side of the clearing in search of her companion. The raven was nowhere to be seen. At that, Leah rolled onto her stomach and peered in-between the trees. What met her gaze was not small and black and feathered.
She jumped to her feet as she heard paws trudging through snow and sniffling breath. From the forest emerged a male wolf -- larger than any she had ever seen. His handsome coat hung as white as the snow around him with a dusting of black fringing the tips of fur around his neck. He walked with a furtive grace, a lupine intelligence, and as his snarl relaxed into a curious stare, she couldn't see anything in the world except his eyes. They were as deep and tumultuous as the Pacific on a stormy day with frenetic breakers of turquoise and grey and sea blue. Within, those eyes carried an ancient intelligence, an otherworldly knowledge that transcended the wisdom of a thousand suns, and she stood transfixed.
Her breath stopped in her chest. She collapsed to the ground, her tail and ears drooping, and she whined. Leah lay her head between her paws and stared up at him and licked her lips. She'd never known any other of her kind to imprint on a wolf instead of a human, but she supposed she was eternally destined to be the first. As if the very earth beneath her feet had shifted and turned on its head and the sky had exchanged places with the snow, her world shifted on its axis.
She rose to timidly walk closer to the white-furred creature who stayed motionless even as his eyes moved to take in her every movement. The very instincts she had clung to in order to hide and survive now held her in iron bonds and forced her to sink into the ground below him. She lowered her head and shrank into her limbs as she peered up at him. She moved to lick his muzzle in greeting and take in his scent -- one of mint and snow and pine instead of wolf and unlike any she had ever encountered.
He gave her a stoic expression in response, though his nostrils flared and his strange eyes betrayed his curiosity. She could not hear his thoughts nor communicate hers to him, but they understood the language of wolves and that was enough. He softly covered her muzzle with first his tongue and then his mouth, clearly speaking both his welcome of her approach and his calm acceptance of his superiority to her. He was every inch an alpha wolf, meant to lead and be followed.
She rubbed her shoulders against the length of his body before she collapsed onto the ground on her back, one paw raised upwards to him. Instead of towering over her and meeting her raised paw in gentle acceptance, he gave a fierce growl. The wolf lunged and she felt his teeth sink deep into her exposed and vulnerable neck.
Yips and snarls erupted from both as they charged each other. They wrestled and tumbled, upsetting snowbanks, trees, and birds as then a flurry of displaced snow and branches as they did. When they reached the opposite side of the clearing, the white wolf vanished.
She gave a pained howl when the wolf turned back into the forest and disappeared. She tried in vain to follow his scent and his tracks, but within a few yards they mysteriously vanished. She could not find him no matter how far she walked. Like an irresistible compass in her heart, she knew which direction to go and she traveled without ceasing, even as the direction kept changing. Yet she never found the white wolf.
By the following dawn, Leah was so weary that she collapsed with a huff into the snow. She licked and cleaned the now dried blood from the many abrasions and punctures marring her grey fur.
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When she woke again, she found green eyes peering at her, almost fearfully, from the tree line. She whined and sank her ears down as low against her head as she could manage to signal her aversion for continued violence.
The wolf came to her, stood over her, and licked her face in greeting without further animosity. She whined again and he gave an answering soft yip of his own. She tentatively reached up to lick the side of his face. His tail wagged as he stood over her, his ears erect, and he grunted. Then he lay down beside her, nestling his large side against hers. As he caught sight of her many wounds, he moved to lick each, somehow healing every abrasion the moment his tongue made contact.
Leah gave a grateful whine and she rubbed her head against his neck in thanks. He yawned once before lazily batting at her with a playful growl. She answered until they tumbled through the snow in a flurry of fur and upset powder and delighted barks.
As they tired from their play, they rolled up beside each other in a clearing, their mutual warmth soaking into the other. Their breath formed clouds in the freezing air, though their double-layered coats kept them from feeling the cold and there they fell asleep.
The raven never returned.
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As perfect as an undisturbed snowflake, as the silence which falls on the woods during a heavy snow, as the fragrance of a meadow after a summer storm, so their lives fell into seamless harmony. There was the white wolf and the grey wolf, the male and the female, the two halves that made a whole, and completed a circle in unbroken congruence of opposites. The sun rose and set, the snows came and then melted away, and the pair filled their days with shared hunts and sleeps, rests and play. It was the peace of two living creatures freed to live as they were meant to live-the wolves who were no longer alone but had a home, a place, a pack, and something greater than themselves to sink into.
Since she imprinted, Leah noticed she could no longer hear her packmates. She wondered if it was due to joining a new pack, gaining a new Alpha, even one unable to communicate in the same way as her pack, or something else. He clearly communicated, though with an intelligence and brightness she had never seen in a wild wolf, more similar to her packmates in wolf form, but her mind remained her own. She delighted in the mental silence as much as their shared space.
As winter's days lengthened and welcomed more and more of the sun, Leah discovered she could no longer phase. She wondered if by imprinting on a wolf, she was now bound to her wolf form for the remainder of her life.
She did not miss human communication or ways of being for she did not let herself dwell on it enough to miss it. In giving herself over completely to the instincts buried in her blood, all the life that mattered was the one in front of her. She thought less and less of her life before and only lived the life around her. For the grey wolf and the white wolf now formed their own pack and their own family and, for now, that was all that mattered.
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Notes:
K'wati (Creator/Transformer) and the Creation of the Quileute comes from a website called "native-languages" under the title "quileutestory".
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