Sephtis

16. For I am torn inside.

All morning the wolves doze. I begin to think about my life, and about my home. There is contentment for me, here with the wolves, but I think I cannot for ever stay with them. I crawl up to where Kavah rests, and I lie full length in front of him on the warm stone, my face resting on his gigantic paws. His face is close to mine. Hie eyes open a slit, and they are fiery within. I feel once again that he pierces my innermost being with his gaze. I lower my eyes, I know now that to gaze at him directly is an insult, or a challenge, for me to look directly into his.

"Kavah, giver of my highest blessing," I say, "I know not what to do. I love your company, and your family. But, I think that I have business yet with those of my own kind and I am torn inside."

I glance at his eyes again. I keep mine narrowed, giving him a sidelong look. His gaze is unblinking, luminous. He closes his eyes, moving his head till his forehead is pressed to mine. His communion heals me, blesses me, and I weep.

After a long time I stand. The other wolves have gone, either into the cool of their den, or away to the forest to teach the cubs the ways of their world. Kavah stands with me, and watches me sideways. I wipe my face with the palms of my hands, and say to him: "If you were a man I would be ashamed to weep before you."

His lips part in a wolfish grin of fun. His tail wags and his eyes dance with merriment.

"You may laugh," I say, laughing too, "since you have shared my weaker side. I love you Kavah, wolf, my refuge, and my friend. Tell me what I should do."

He turns and runs away, slow so I can follow. I sprint to catch up with him, and he leads me down the steps and through the trees. I have no doubt that there is purpose to our journey, that this is somehow his answer. A long time we run, past startled deer and boar with their great tusks tearing the earth, and hares with white tails flashing in the setting sun. We run past a little stream I have never seen before; we skirt marshlands, and I find that I am on familiar paths. We come out of the forest at the place where the night before, Kavah sat and watched me grieving in the downpour. We are hidden in the dark shadows of the trees, and no one sees us.

Kavah takes my hand gently in his mouth, and I kneel and press my face against the thick ruff of his neck. He is warm, and smells of the earth and sunlight. I stand up and look across at the village. The children are playing naked in the moat, their little bodies brown with mud, and become ever darker in the fast approaching night. Through the gateway of the spiked wall I see that the women have taken the big, wooden bathing-tubs outside. They are filling them with water heated in pots over the cooking-fires. After so long of nothing but dampness and mud, it is bathing time. Sleeping furs are spread over the wooden wall to air, and a fire burns bright outside, burning the moldy straw from the beds. The young men and girls are out in the fields, gathering fresh, dry grass for sleeping on. I can hear their laughter. I can see the youths chase the girls, and grab them about their waists, trying to kiss them. I see a woman in a green dress slip her hand into Eleutheros', and he kisses her. It is a long kiss, and the others watch, hooting and applauding. Beyond them the wheat stands straight ad glowing in the darkness.

I turn to look at Kavah, but he is gone.

I find my canoe in the long grass, and paddle back to the place of my kind, and for some reason, my heart is heavier then before I left.