summer nights and morning dew | jjk

07

Humming lightly to yourself, you finish another row of stitches and turn the needle around. This morning, you decided to start on a new sweater, a large brown one to wear when winter rolls around, and you've already made great progress.

Since it's been raining all day, you've barely moved from the rocking chair, but as the ache in your right hand worsens, you put the needles and yarn down to take a well-deserved break.

Maybe you can read for a while? It's been a few weeks since you picked up a book, and you're not exactly longing to go weeding when the gods are sobbing.

But when you pass by your kitchen window, you stop and retrace a step. It's not raining anymore. The sky is still threateningly grey, but there's also hope in the form of a few rays of sunshine poking through the clouds. It's been a dry year, so you can't complain too much, and besides, the smell of summer rain is one of your absolute favorites.

That's the reason you go to your back door, pulling the handle down to slide the door open and let the fresh air in.

"No," you groan quietly to yourself as you spot the pair of sandals accidentally left out on the lawn, now surely entirely soaked, and it's with disappointed steps you make your way onto the wet grass, barefoot.

However, before you can bend down to grab them, a branch snaps somewhere. Instantly, you straighten up and search the treeline.

There, slowly stepping out onto your lawn, is the brown wolf. He walks unhurriedly, eyes on you.

"Hello," you greet him, but his attention only lies on you for so long. After a few more steps, he looks back at the forest.

Curiously, you turn your head to the right to follow his line of sight.

He's so still, you almost gloss over him, but there he is.

The black wolf. Just like a week ago, when you'd spotted the two wolves almost fighting in your backyard, his body language screams nervous. He's making his big body appear smaller, lower to the ground, and he has his ears down and his tail between his legs.

You see him look timidly between you and the other wolf, and how his friend seemingly encourages him with the tiniest of nods.

And slowly, he steps over the last remaining shrubs until he's got all four paws on the even grass of your backyard.

When he meets your eyes, you see how he cowers further, and if you didn't fear that he might run away if you do, you would've called out to him.

Instead, you decide to allow him to come a little bit closer before you speak. If you'll have thought out some words to say, that is.

What do you say? That you've missed him? That you missed the quiet company on the summer nights and that reading a romantic book just isn't that much fun without a pair of black wolf ears listening? Or just that you don't care what he is, just about who he is?

Five meters away, his steps falter.

"It's okay," you speak softly. "You can understand me, right?"

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to ask as the wolf tilts his head down. Does it bring back memories?

When he turns to look behind him, almost as if preparing to run away again, you speak.

"Wait. It's okay, I promise."

His yellow eyes meet yours.

"You don't need to go. It's okay. Everything's okay, I'm not angry with you. I was just surprised, I didn't expect it like that," you explain before taking on a softer, more hopeful tone, "...will you let me hear your voice?"