BEING

2. The Wolf and the Donkey

There was a puddle of blood forming below a wolf's dead corpse. She was shot suddenly while she was with her cubs bathing in the sunlight aways away from the pack. After the shot rang in the forest, the rest of the pack came rushing to her. They found her lying with her fur matted in red. They managed to get the scent of the hunter and followed it towards a river. From there they lost him along with a cub he stole.

It has been a year after that incident. The cub has grown into a full grown wolf. The hunter has kept it within the confines of a steel cage. He fed it whatever scraps he had. However, it was never enough for the wolf. He was always hungry. All these steel bars keeping him from hunting all those chickens pecking on the ground not twenty feet away from him. He was so very hungry.

He kept barking at them, day and night until the hunter would come to bang on his cage. One day, the hunter poured boiling water on him. A part of his neck and face since then has refused to grow fur exposing his skin. It was painful at first, but it went away and the skin healed. From then on he remained quiet. Resigned to his fate. He knew he was going to die sooner or later. He realized it will come sooner than expected.

After that he did nothing but sleep. Even when he was given food, he ate a litlle, if he did eat at all. He realized his life has ceased the moment he was taken and bought into the cage. He missed the forest. He missed his mother, and his siblings, and most of all he missed his freedom. He closed his eyes and remembered the sunlight streaming through the forest, the leaves and the small animals; the sounds and the sensation of the grass on his paws. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he will be with his mom again.

One early morning as the dawn was breaking, the wolf woke to a faint sound. At first it sounded like the wind but then it started to sound a little raspy. After a while it became clear what it was. It was the sound of crying which was turning into a wail. The hunter rushed outside screaming profanities demanding silence from the old donkey, threathening to end its life if it didn't. The hunter grabbed at the rope tied to its neck and pulled and pulled until it was at the corner of the steel cage. The wolf, already awake, shrank to a corner as the hunter pointed his shotgun at him.The wolf froze. He has seen it before-smelled it's scent before-he just couldnt remember when or where. Before he could further react, he saw the wailing old donkey being pushed into the cage. The small door squeaked as it was closed and shut.

It was just him and the old donkey in the cage.

In an instant, the wolf felt his hunger. All those scraps were never enough. This right in front of him is a meal. A real one.

The donkey's scent entralled him. He let his muscles relax then tighten, his breath quickened, his claws gnawing. He circled the donkey in what little space they shared, growling and drooling uncontrollably. He was eyeing the donkey's neck. They were so close he could hear the blood pulse. He sheated and unsheated his claws as he had a feel of the ground underneath him, slowly arching his back for the pounce. He slowed his breath and cleared his mind. He was ready to strike.

Meanwhile the donkey was reduced to a whimper and he collapsed to the ground in resignation.

The wolf pounced and hit the other side of the cage, missing his target. He shook his head as if it would take away the sudden pain it took. He grumbled and prepared for the next attack. He lowered his stance eyeing the neck again. This time he saw the trembling.

Trembling white fur.

Trembling, shivering, quick breaths. His mother's white fur against him. She was trying to hide us from the bad man. There was a loud sound and his mother stopped moving. Something warm and red oozed from her, covering her with the its stain. He nudged her head trying to wake her up. But she wouldn't. The man nudged her head too with a long thing. Then a loud, blood-curling sound came from it.

More red.

He cowered and covered his ears. Then the man took him.

The wolf howled and howled. His tears fell as he sagged to the ground, convulsing. His hunger, his death, they were nothing to the loneliness he felt.

Yet for some reason it became a bit warm.

He raised his head and saw the donkey curled right next to him.

It raised its head, gazed at him, then went to sleep.

The wolf, slowed its breath and stared at the line of trees beyond his cage.

After a while, he went to sleep too.