Wolves

Written for a Thanksgiving-relative assignment. Thought I'd share.

Chapter I

          The crisp morning wind tossed the frost-trimmed leaves about the forest floor. Early October, about the time the trees become completely bare and your breath crystallizes, had arrived in Massachusetts. Cold and bitter, but not enough to deter the annual trip up to Wompatuck. Beautiful as this time of year may be, it was soon to be tarnished.

          The phone rang throughout the studio apartment not long before he jumped to pick it up.

“Ted?” he asked, expecting a call from him any time.

“Nita,” a woman’s voice corrected. “He hasn’t called me yet either, he’s probably already at work. Don’t sweat it, Benny. He’ll probably get to you on his lunch break or later in the evening. Hey, have we worked out a date for the trip yet?”

          He rolled his eyes at the childhood nickname, “It’s Ben, and last time I talked with Ted and James we thought late November would be a safe bet. Would’ve scheduled for some time in the next two weeks, maybe around the thirtieth but I’ve got responsibilities here so no cigar.”

“Late November... let me check it out.” A crackle came over the line. Sounded like she set the phone down. He could hear her flipping pages. While he waited the coffee pot began to roar, so it was time for a cup. He glanced outside, watching the wind toss the tree branches and spin the weather vane perched upon the neighbor’s roof. It’s going to snow any time, now.

          She spoke suddenly to update, “I’ve got a window from the twenty-fourth to the thirtieth, how’s that for you?”

“Great, I’ll pass it on. Do you have a couple weekends to get everything sorted before we go?”

“Sure, James has already got the Winnebago and all that’s left for us to do is..” she drifted into the specifics of supplies they’d need- parkas, firewood, the makings for s’mores, the like. He wrote himself a mental note as she babbled.

“Gotcha.”

“Hey, y’know this trip means we’ll be in the forest on Thanksgiving.” A sudden thought, but true. It didn’t matter much since none of the group really celebrated anyway.

“I honestly hadn’t given it much thought-“

“We’ll be in the woods, roughin’ it like real Indians,” she joked.

“Right- ha, ha. Though I like the idea of camping much more than eating too much to celebrate the catalyst of pain and suffering for our people..” he stopped himself from trailing off on everything to dislike about the day.

“Don’t we all!” she replied. “Anyway, I gotta scram, got a client with a foot-stamp that’ll wake San Andreas. Talk again soon.”

         He glanced up at the clock. Not much time to spare either.

“Oh, sure thing. I’ve got to go too. Bye, Nita.”

“Bye, Benny.”

“It’s-” Flat line. He replaced the phone in its proper place. “..Ben..” He took his last sip of coffee, put on his wool-lined coat, tied back his long hair and walked out into the frosty morning.

⸙

          The following weeks were consumed not only with the regular slings and arrows of their work related or familial responsibilities, but preparation for the trip up to Wompatuck. Ben thought it a perfect escape, and only the best way to catch up with his dearest friends.

          He had known Ted, James and Nita since they were young, meeting them all through their high school years where a strong bond was built over their common Indian ancestry in a school and a town where they didn’t exactly emulate the majority. Ben always admired how outspoken and aggressive Nita was about her passions, and James always had a good story to tell. It seemed that he had a personal arsenal of tales and legends for seemingly any situation. Ted’s few words but noble actions held strength, rendering him a natural leader. Ben always liked to consider himself the emotional support of the group, but the others viewed him as a little brother doubling as the glue holding them all together.

          They had grown far beyond school now, well into their thirties juggling mortgages and businesses and the like, but always have made the time to go camping every single year without fail. Every year they would all make the drive; Ben, and James taking his Winnebago from Carver, Nita from Rochester and Ted from New Bedford; to the diner in Bridgewater they’d go to every day after school. It was a routine that never grew old, but also a lifeline.

          This time would be much later than the usual ballpark, but that’s just how it goes, Ben thought. Nonetheless, he still allowed himself the same excitement he would any other year.

Chapter II

          Noon rolled around, and it was time for a break. Ben pushed his seat from the mahogany desk you’d be unable to see through the stacks of papers scattered across it, rubbing and blinking his eyes. Staring at a computer screen can do that after a while. He retrieved his coat from the rack next to the door of the office and made his way to his car. While he’d normally walk, it was much too cold for that today.

         On every street he felt the piercing stares of cartoon pilgrims and turkeys taped to shop windows, rolling his eyes at the caricatures of Indians holding maize and fraternizing with the enemy. Another good reason to be out of town for the holiday. Faux autumnal leaves and gourds lined the posts and fences, and though it looked quite beautiful he couldn’t quite shake those patronizing little doodles. Add a little violence and there you have the real story.

          He’d finally arrived at Buck’s, the local diner with the original intent to grab a mediocre meal but an exceptional cup of coffee, but much to his surprise he’d caught James right outside. He was smoking a cigarette and looked like he was freezing. There was a generous layer of frost on the ground, after all.

“James!”

          He raised his eyebrows and tucked the cigarette to the corner of his mouth.

“Hi there, Ben, how the hell are ya’?”

“I’m fine, just grabbing lunch before I have to get back. I thought you quit, what’re you doing with that?” Ben pointed at it, slightly visibly revolted by the smell.

“Ah this? Well, ‘bad habits die hard.’ Or is it ‘old habits’.. Anyway-“ he paused to drop the butt to the ground to step on it, “You wouldn’t mind if I join you, huh?”

“Not at all, come on!” Ben replied with his ever-inviting smile.

          Partially into their meal, after confirmation of the Wompatuck date, James had begun to drift off into his stories, catching Ben up on the goings-on of his life and diverting into books he’d read and eventually old legends- one in particular Ben thought he’d heard before.

“Kids these days have probably made some kind of crack at this six ways to Sunday by now but there’s this old tale- Cherokee I’m pretty sure.. yeah that sounds right. This Cherokee grandfather is telling his grandson-”

“I know this one.” Ben laughed, but let him finish the tale.

⸙

          The week preceding the trip was all preparatory. Nita bought a Thanksgiving dinner’s worth of food and snacks, Ted and Ben made sure to pack all the essentials and tools, and James of course providing the Winnebago.

          When the day arrived; the day before Thanksgiving; and they’d all arrived in Bridgewater, there was much news to be shared and good feelings all around. They talked and shared all while packing up the Winnebago. Ben thought about how it seemed like no time had passed at all since the last trip. Maybe wintertime and the holiday season has its way of softening people after all.

          As soon as the job was done, they all packed in and drove off. All the way they listened to the radio, singing along to the songs that were popular when they were in school. When the music had a vastly uneven static to tune ratio, they opted to turn it off, James making up for the silence with his stories and jokes. Ted occasionally looking up from his book to laugh, and surprisingly adding to it. Time really does fly when you’re having fun, Ben thought. He glanced out the window. The sun had set into early evening, and frost had formed an intricate frame on the windows. Snowflakes had begun to fall, powdering the ground and transforming the world around them into a tranquil wonderland. It took him a moment to realize the others were watching the snow with him. The trailer grew silent as they watched in wonder.

            Arriving at their campsite later than anticipated, they scrambled to start a fire, cook dinner and situate the space. When all was done, they talked until the fire died and they retired to bed.

 

 

 Chapter III

          Ben woke up with the sun. He noticed James and Nita were sleeping in but Ted’s bed was empty. So as not to disturb the others he carefully put on a pot of coffee, and went outside to find Ted.

          There he was, sitting in a folding chair, warming himself by a fire. Ben joined him, and held out his hands toward the heat. He’d only been out a second, but it was cold enough for the snow to keep all night.

“Mind if I join?” he said, sitting down.

“Not at all. Wondered who’d be up next.” Ted replied. His voice was deeper than usual in the early morning.

“I thought of waking the others for breakfast, but they just seem so at peace. I can wait..” Ben took a deep breath and glanced around him. The trees seemed tall enough to reach the clouds, and the sky was a pale lavender, crossing from dark to light. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Mm. It is.” Ted said as his expression revealed something in his eyes that said he was taking it in to remember when things turned sour.

          They listened to the crackling fire accompanied by birdsong carried through the light breeze. Ben had closed his eyes for just a moment, it seemed, for when he opened them he saw Ted holding his index finger over his mouth. Be quiet? For what- Ben shifted his gaze to a space between two trees, where two enormous black wolves stood, startlingly still. They were like statues, staring straight into his eyes to his soul, it felt like. You’d have never known they were living if it weren’t for the puffs of crystallized breath.

Nita and James walked out of the trailer at that moment, disrupting the silence. They very quickly learned what was happening and stopped in their tracks.

“Don’t.. move.. a muscle..” Ted whispered, loud enough to hear but soft enough so as not to startle the wolves.

          One of them lowered its head and took a step closer. The other followed suit. Slowly they moved closer and closer to the fire, never once taking their eyes off of the humans. Suddenly, the larger of the two, presumably the alpha, flopped onto its side and closed it’s eyes. The other lied down with it, resting its head on its paws.

“They’re cold.” Nita finally said. “They’re.. just cold.” She laughed a bit, not from humor but disbelief.

“I don’t believe it. You ever seen a thing like this?” James added.

“Never..” Ben replied.

          The wolves now looked and acted like domestic dogs. There they were, curled up by the warmth, grinning almost, ears flopped gently to the sides. They were clearly not hostile, but their ribs were visible through their coats and their fur looked coarse.

“They’re hungry.” Ted observed.

          Ben looked back to Nita and James, still perched on the steps of the Winnebago, in the safety of the doorway.

“Who wants breakfast?” he asked, glancing to Ted and back to the others.

“I’ll.. fry up some sausage.. I guess.” Nita offered.

          Ted retrieved the camping stove, and Nita cooked a full breakfast for the group. They gathered around the fire that Ben added a few fresh logs to, talking and carrying on in their casual manner, though still wary of their carnivorous visitors. Ben dropped a piece of sausage onto the ground, and before he knew it the smaller wolf had gobbled it up. It looked up at him, looking as though he expected more. James looked to the larger wolf.

“Well, that hardly seems fair, does it?” he said, and held out a piece to the alpha. Hesitant to take food from the hand of a human, it eventually took the offering. They licked their lips and tilted their heads.

“Spoiled already.” Nita said, causing the group to share a laugh. “I’ll make more for them.” She went back to the stove. As she cooked, the wolves’ noses twitched, and they glanced about to find the source of the delicious smell. When she served the sausage on a plate they nudged each other, battling over it. This made the group laugh.

“Spoiled.” Ted added, shaking his head and laughing.

          After they finished, both of the wolves transformed back into statues, heads held high, chests puffed and ears perked. The group watched them in silence. They must be hearing something we can’t. Before long, they ran into the woods presumably to never be seen again.

“That’s a shame, I was starting to like them.” James blurted.

⸙

          The next day had come and gone. The group went on a hike they had to retreat from due to the slip factor of the snow. Coming back to the campsite in the early evening, Nita proposed s’mores and James offered to play campfire songs.

“Oh, I know you didn’t bring that guitar!” Nita teased, watching James run inside to pull the dusty old case from a corner of the Winnebago.

“He did, oh gosh-” Ben laughed as he facepalmed.

“No, no, you guys this’ll be great.” James reassured them. “Ted, you wanna hit me with your harmonica? You brought it right?”

          Looking a bit reluctant he pulled it from his coat’s interior pocket. Nita and Ben exclaimed their faux disappointment but were genuinely excited to see them put on a show. After taking a minute for James to tune the instrument, he was ready. He began to strum and Ted soon joined in. The group was eventually singing and laughing, almost completely oblivious to the return of the wolves. Nita screamed as she noticed their golden eyes peering from the dark. The others stopped and whipped around to see them. This time it wasn’t just the two- there were more.

They started to prowl towards them, no longer so statuesque. As they approached the light at least twenty revealed themselves, all with open mouths, bared teeth or licking their lips. The group backed away from them, but it wasn’t long before they circled around and attacked. First tearing at Ted’s shirt- then Nita’s arm and James’ face, toppling Ben.

“We fed you! This is how we’re repaid?” James screamed at the alpha before it tackled him.

As the beasts tore into Ben, he saw flashes of the cartoon pilgrims and the Indians. Fraternizing with the enemy. His memory replayed what James told him only a few days prior at the diner..

⸙

“This Cherokee grandfather is telling his grandson-” James began.

“I know this one.” Ben laughed.

“Lemme finish! Anyway, this grandfather is telling his grandson, “There’s a fight going on.” And of course, the kid’s concerned about this fight he’s heard nothing about, so he asks what’s going on. To which grandpa says, “It is a fight between two wolves, a terrible fight, between the one that represents all that is good. He is joy, love, peace, serenity..” all that good stuff, y’know, Ben? And of course, you guessed it- he says “the other is evil. He is anger, envy sorrow, greed, resentment, lies, superiority, and ego.”

“And the boy asks which wolf will win-“ Ben added.

“Yuh-huh, to which the grandfather says, “The one that wins is the one you feed."