wolven7 | Written for Leah, Dedicated to Hel, and the Oldest of the Celtic Wolf Goddesses, who was my first, a

Once... There was a simple farmer, and he wanted nothing more in life, than to provide for his family. His family was, by right, three daughters, a son, and his wife.

He stood up, one Sunday, in the after noon, and he said to them "Family, i must leave this place, and go out to seek the ways by which i may provide for you." And the family, being one of Story, understood, and allowed him to leave, with minimal protest.

Soon, he was in the forest, and he found that he had, with him, a basket, though he remembered carrying none. Soon and Sure enough, a Wolf came up to him, asking him, oh so nicely, "Where are you off to, good sir? Basket For your grandmother?"

"Why it must be," the man answered, "But i don't remember where she happens to live..." The Wolf then promised that he would show the old man, where his poor ailing granny lived.

On their way, they passed three ravens in a tree, each of whom spoke a word of warning, to the man:

"Know," said the first.
"Thy," said the second
"Self," said the third. They spoke this, and spoke no more. The Wolf only nodded, and said "Good Advice. But we were off to granny's."

"Yes..." The man said. "That we were."

As they walked, he began to feel very strange, and, eventually, they came to a cave. The man stopped, and stared at the cave, and then at the Wolf. "My Granny lives HERE? In a CAVE?" He demanded.

"Why of course," the Wolf responded. "Where else would Your grandmother live?" The man could only look baffled, and move slowly towards the entrance.

He looked down, to the basket he once held, and, in it's place, saw a shank of some animal. A Deer it looked like. "Goodies for Grandma," was all the Wolf said, before shoving the man into the cave.

The man tumbled, headlong, for what felt like an eternity, before finding the bottom, and there, he saw a faint silver glow, as if of moonlight, through trees. And, in the center of the Cave, sat a woman. Or a Wolf. The man could not be certain. But she was the most beautiful thing, the man had ever seen, and the majesty, and the gentle love showed her, for what she was:

His Grandmother.

She looked at him, and, in her eyes, he saw the whole Lineage of the Wolf, down and back. He saw wolves eating suns, and wolves riding winds. He saw wolves guarding gates, and wolves destroying Worlds. Since the beginning, she seemed to say, without speaking words, there had been Wolves, and they had been willing to accommodate man, however he needed Them. Antagonist, God, Saviour, Destroyer. For that was the price of love.

Love of the Hunt. Love of a Child. Love of that which was inherently Less, but had the potential to be so much More.

And he left that cave, and the old She-Wolf, without a name, or even an Ideal, and he returned home, finally aware of how to care for them.

(c)Damien Williams. All Rights Reserved

Wrote that, in IM format, on the fly.

Dream Well