The wolf stepped into the Whitmore’s house that night and no one, not even Kismet, stopped him from wandering the place. His large, muscular legs which moved slowly across the hardwood floor was like watching a dance while his curved tail following behind was like a cape—smooth and regal.
Mr. Whitmore leaned over to his wife and whispered in awe, “Look! The fur is red.” Mr. Whitmore pressed his cheek against Mrs. Whitmore’s and smiled. “I never have seen one before! I had heard stories about a legendary red wolf such as this fella here down at the store, but you know I ain’t the type to believe in old-wives’ tales. But here is one, right before our eyes.”
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Whitmore whispered back. “Why ain’t he afraid of us? And what does he want?”
“I don’t know, Annie. It still keeps me thinking. I’ve never seen an animal like him before. The way he looked the boy in the eyes, it was as if he was telling him he was going to protect him.”
“A hound can do that—,”
“No, no. Annie, any creature can look a human in the eyes and show faithfulness. But what we saw was different. I think this animal is more than he appears. No wolf, or any animal for that matter, can communicate as clearly as that animal did. He’s staying, Annie. He’s staying until he decides to leave.”
Later that night when he was ready for bed, Kismet said his prayers and climbed into bed. He kissed his little brother on the temple and snuggled deep into his covers. A smile brightened his face while a sense of security warmed his heart. Just to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming, Kismet lifted his head and peered out his window, looking down to the stake his father had left out for the wolf. His brown eyes caught site of one tied end of the wolf’s leash but he could not see the other end which ought to be fastened to the wolf. Kismet raised his head higher and tilted it slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the animal tethered below.
An audible breath escaped his lips when, instead of the wolf, he caught sight of the frayed rope’s ending. He looked out at the woods, but saw not even a shadow or trace of the wolf. Kismet spun around in his bed, threw his feet out and into his slippers, and made for his coat before he saw a movement in the doorway. He stopped suddenly and slowly raised his eyes to meet the yellow ones. Another smile crinkled the boy’s cheek at the sight of the wolf standing in front of him. With one motion of his finger, the boy welcomed the animal inside. The wolf entered the room and crept over to the side of the bed where he placed his strong muzzle on the boy’s lap.
Cautious of not disturbing a hair on the wolf’s head, Kismet passed a tender hand over the animal’s cold nose and up to the course head. The triangular shaped ears relaxed at the touch of the boy’s hand and his expressive eyes softened. The wolf lifted a paw and placed it on the bed, confirming his growing affection for the boy. Kismet felt a tear stream down his cheek—he hadn’t ever felt so much love before. How could a mute creature touch a human soul so deeply? Kismet reached down and squeezed the paw in response.
Kismet leaned back in bed, preparing to go to sleep once more while keeping his eyes on the wolf. He lay there, thinking of a name for his new companion. He looked around his room, hoping the walls would have the answers, but nothing stood out that could serve as one. Kismet bit his lip and stared back down at the wolf. He wanted the name to mean something—to stand out. He didn’t want it to be like the other dog names he had seen carved on leather collars.
Frustrated, Kismet abandoned the thought of sleep and jumped out of bed. He began to pace the room, mussing up his scraggily brown hair and stomping a foot. He walked by his bookcase, his eyes glancing up at the contents with no particular motive until the red spine of Roget’s Thesaurus gave him a reason to stop. He took the book down and began flipping through the pages. His finger ran down each page, stopping at any word that might be a good name.
His brows furrowed at words that looked strange while his head bobbed back and forth at the ones that appeared suitable. Kismet found several words that were promising and had almost dubbed the wolf “Cherokee” before he lost control of the book. In fear of waking up Jovie and his parents, Kismet’s hands were lightning fast, catching the book before it thudded on the floor. Gritting his teeth and staring at the bedroom across from his, Kismet slowly rose from his crouching position and began closing the book. Before he did however, the word “prestige” caught his attention. He flattened the book in his hand and read the associated meanings: authority, cachet, status. Kismet laughed softly through his nose and looked back at the wolf from the corner of his eye.
There, sitting so tall and noble was the red wolf. Prestige; the name was perfect.
YOU ARE READING
The Wolf's Boy
AventuraKismet 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...
