Jovie’s soft cheeks lay pressed up against the wooden frame of the Whitmore’s loft. His eyes struggled against the weight of his lids as a haunting melody, orchestrated by the rain, plinked against rooftop. He repositioned himself multiple times to keep his eyes open and alert, but the constant movement only made him more tired. Jovie rubbed his eyes and placed the long rifle from his lap onto the floor beside him. Leaning forward onto his knuckles, the boy inched forward to the edge of the loft. He peered down at the metal trap below and saw a gray ball of fur entangled in the barbed wire.
Smiling, the boy grabbed the rifle and slung its strap over his shoulder. He felt for the ladder, and, upon finding it, climbed down. When his bare feet touched the soggy ground, he crept cautiously over to the cage. Curled up with its tongue hanging out from its opened jaw, he found the body of a large raccoon. Jovi emptied the rifle of its shell and picked up the crate. He hauled the caged body inside the barn and set it down in the corner where he and his brother would depose of it the next morning. Jovi then ran towards the house, his hand holding down his brimmed hat, and his eyes squinting against the streaks of rain. He was only a hair away from the front door when he caught sight of a large animal with piercing yellow eyes. The boy shrieked and dropped to his knees, unable to move.
Jovie, without breaking eye contact with the strange animal not two yards from him, carefully moved his hands to his rifle. Once he steadied the weapon in one hand, his moved his other hand to his pocket to retrieve the discarded shell. Jovie was a keen hunter, and he knew the animal in front of him had to be either a coyote or stray dog. It was hard to tell if the mutt was was anything else but a scavenger however since the rain had flattened out its fur. A wolf was the last presumption the boy had.
“Jovie! Don’t move!” Mrs. Whitmore’s voice called from the front door.
A stream of yellow light materialized behind him. Moving his eyes over his shoulder, he saw his mother, father, and Kismet hovering around a blazing lantern.
In a calm voice, Jovie hollered back, “I’m fine, Ma! The dog ain’t movin’. But he ain’t gonna let me move either!”
Mrs. Whitmore frantically motioned for Mr. Whitmore to go and load another gun. However, Kismet stepped in front of his father and shook his head slowly. His eyes were stern and his jaw was set.
“We got to kill that creature before he kills your brother!” Mrs. Whitmore exclaimed in a hushed voice. She grabbed Kismet by the shirt collar and flashed him a pair frightened eyes.
Kismet’s face softened and he peeled his mother’s fingers off his shirt. He held up an opened palm to her and began tip-toeing outside. His mother made for him a second time, but it was his father’s turn to stop her.
“Be careful, son,” Mr. Whitmore mouthed. He turned to his wife and patted her shoulder. “He ain’t going to hurt the boy. Kismet will distract the dog enough to give Jovie time to get inside. Trust him, Annie.”
Kismet’s eyes locked on the animal and he noticed the creature was holding a dead bird in his mouth. He must’ve been passing by when he was startled by Jovie’s entrance. Kismet knelt to the ground and gestured to Jovie to move inside. Jovie acted immediately and made for the house swiftly. The dog’s head turned and for a moment, Kismet believed the dog would go after his brother; he didn’t. The dog stayed put.
Kismet crept closer and knelt down as soon as the dog looked back at him. The rain quieted and the outline of the animal became clear to Kismet. This was no dog. From the muscles in his shoulders and the fullness of his muzzle, Kismet could tell this was a wolf.
Placing the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Kismet made a soft clicking sound. The wolf’s head lowered and his haunches folded underneath his belly. The bird in his mouth dropped between his front paws. The animal gave Kismet every bit of his attention.
The boy sat down and stared back at the dog. Their eyes remained fixed on one another – as if one moment of looking away would be one minute of time lost in getting to know one another. Kismet had never looked into the eyes of anyone and felt, just by staring at them, that everything was going to be all right. Nor had he ever felt that he had nothing to hide or be ashamed of when looking at another. The wolf knew nothing of his hearing loss or troubles with speech and the boy didn’t care that the wolf couldn’t say ‘hello’ or give him a welcoming handshake. In that strange moment of time, the two respected one another. No aggression of territory, differences in species, or even their ranks in society could tell them that they couldn’t be friends. The wolf knew his owner and the boy had found a companion.
Later, Kismet would say that he could see the wolf smirking at him through the rain. To him, the yellow eyes were no threat, but instead, beautiful. The gentle look on the wolf’s majestic face told Kismet that the animal had reached his destination and that he was there to stay.
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The Wolf's Boy
AdventureKismet and Prestige are just as unusual as their names. Though one is a boy and the other a wolf, they both desire the same thing: love. Through the years, their friendship grows and they become inseparable. But when their town is hit by a natural...
