The Wood

The Wolves

I woke up with my stomach in knots and my throat dry. It was darker than before, the lighting in the mist above a darker shade than earlier. I looked around and groggily recalled where I was. Pulling myself up, I started to stumble down along the path. It was long and winding, taking me through the forest as the fog closed in, and the light began to fade more. After a few minutes, it was too dark to see clearly, and a couple of minutes after that, I had to stop after stubbing my foot on a rock hidden in darkness, causing me to nearly pass out, the pain making my vision blur for a moment. I sat, hunger gnawing at my stomach as the hammer struck my head again and again and the feeling slowly returned to my feet. The woods were so silent, the only sound the earth shifting beneath me slightly as I moved. A sudden cry broke the silence, mourning and wolf-like. It was followed by others, a lupine cacophony echoing around me. The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere, reverberating off the trees and swirling around in the mist. It had a drastic effect on me, the thudding in my head suddenly becoming unbearable, the aches and pains of the day raging up and forcing me to scream out in pain, my anguished cries mixing with the solemn voices of the beasts. The darkness seemed to converge around me, and I realized that I was going to die, out there beneath the stoic pines and shifting mists, my corpse just an easy meal for the creatures that ruled the wood. This realization filled me with pure, overpowering fear. I stood, and began to run down the path, ignoring the pain and just praying that I made it somewhere safe. I heard the howls continue, growing closer, the dread fueling my bleeding feet to propel me forward through the dark unknown. I turned to look over my shoulder and stumbled. Suddenly I was in the air, and then the ground rushed up to meet me and things went dark.

The hunger was overpowering, taking control, no mercy or regret, hesitation or guilt. The screams were the worst part, the beast just wanted to make them stop, make them go away, and satisfy it's unending hunger. But, once it had gorged itself, its snout dripping with blood, its fur matted and sticky with gore, it would rise and hear the silence of the wood, and realize the hunger was still there.

"Esti mort? Baiat?" I felt a sudden pain in my side. I groaned and tried to curl into a ball, every bone and muscle in my body crying out in anguish. But soon the same sharp pain brought me fully into reality. I was frigid, every part of my shuddering like a dead leaf in the wind. A blinding light made me cringe and throw my hand over my eyes, but I felt something clamp down on my arm and wrench it away. Even through my closed eyelids, the light seared into my eyes. "Ridica-te, nu este timp pentru somn!" I tried to pull away, but the grip was harder than old iron, and I knew I was far too weak to break free. I opened my eyes slowly, the striking pain in my head worsening as I tried to see what was in front of me. The light was a lantern, clutched in the hand of a large man, dressed up in various animal skins and a hooded cloak. He looked a strange mix of angry and confused, and when I opened my eyes wider he squinted at me. "Nu vorbești română? Lehet magyar, igen?" I felt a spark of recognition as he began to speak, the strange sounds forming meaning in my head. "Igen Magyar. Cyeme, fiam, sok danger, hogy the tree éjjel and you burn with fever. Do you understand?" I nodded slowly and he nodded in return. The woods silence was slashed by the hungry howls of the wolves, and his head jerked up, his expression suddenly full of fear. "Come, child, we must be leave. The lupin are hungry, and light will die soon." He spoke with a strange inflection, and his grammar was poor. I stood, my teeth chattering. Noticing my shivering, the large man quickly undid his cloak and draped it over my shoulders. He tapped the lantern and then turned quickly. "Follow." I stumbled after him, the wolves voices rising and dipping with feverish pitch. I followed the man for a long time, often tripping or slipping, and each time he would turn and tell me the same thing.

"We are close". I stopped believing him after the eighth time he said it, focusing on the light of the latter to distract myself from my aching feet. It began to sear my eyes again, and I began stumbling every few steps, so I lowered my head and kept my gaze locked on the ground. I only raising my head when I heard him sigh. "Thank God." We stood in front of a large wall built from felled pine trunks, only broken by a large wooden gate. He strode up to the gate and kicked it twice.

"Deschide!" The man called up, switching back to whatever language he had first used upon finding me. Soon, another voice answered from up on the wall.

"Gavril, tu esti?" The voice sounded surprised.

"Da, deschide poarta. Am găsit un băiat în pădure, el este pe jumătate mort și arderea de febră." The man stomped his foot, his tone angry.

"Un baiat? Gavril, unde l-ai găsit?" The voice on the wall responded, sounding curious.

"Voi explica mai târziu, acum deschide această poartă al naibii!" He kicked the door for emphasis and after a few beats of silence, it creaked open. Standing there was a scared looking elderly man, clutching a simple wooden bow. He nodded in our direction.

"Bine ai revenit, Gavril." The man who I had been following nodded in return, then pushed by and walked through the gate. I followed him closely, staring down at the ground, stumbling with exhaustion. It was too much, the pain and hunger, thirst and exhaustion were all overtaking me completely, and I was too tired to fight back. I swayed, my legs threatening to give out, but I looked up long enough to see the light of torches and lanterns illuminating the village on the other side of the gate. I took another step forward, and collapsed.

The boy played in the woods every day, always returning for supper with his parents. His mother would tell him stories, of the various creatures of the wood, the snakes and rabbits, squirrels and deer, bears and birds and foxes. But his favorite was the story of the wolf, and she would tell it to him and sing him songs and sometimes, as she snuffed out the candle next to his bed as he fell asleep, she would kiss his forehead and whisper "My little pup."