WOLVES DON'T TALK

Chapter 12. THE RED RABBIT PROVIDES

I spent the night curled up in a human ball on the ground next to the wolf's cage nestled beneath a mound of dried leaves and redwood needles. Pythia lay next to me, sound asleep for the first time since I'd met her in the forest. She slept without any covering and didn't seem to notice the cold night air. I watched her for the longest time. The oracle appeared deathly pale and fragile in the light of the full moon.

The wolf paid her no attention. He paced angerly back and forth in his cage, mumbling to himself. I tried several times to explain to him why I'd helped the white rabbit put him back in the crate, but the words kept getting stuck in my throat. The wolf shook his head in disgust every time I opened my mouth and, after a while, I gave up, realizing my failure to explain was probably for the best. The outraged beast would never have agreed with my thoughts about keeping him safe.

Despite being thoroughly exhausted, I lie awake most of the night, feeling both confused and frightened about what might happen in the coming dawn. The rest of the creatures snored and moaned in their grassy beds throughout the clearing. None of them suffered from any lack of sleep.

The big red rabbit woke up early in the morning, well ahead of the rest of the mob. The darkness had turned into a gray and misty morning when she arose and stumbled over two blind squirrels, attempting to make her way quietly through the sleeping masses. Amazingly, she didn't wake a single one of the weird assembly when she crashed off into the forest.

I watched her go. The wolf watched her as well and snorted when he saw her disappear. I thought about making some quick comment in his direction but held my tongue. What was there to say?

Finally, sitting there in my nest next to the wolf's cage, I dozed in the dawn, too tired to worry any more. I dreamed of home. I watched myself sleeping under a warm white comforter on my very own soft bed. Screensavers shuffled across a flat panel TV on the other side of the room. Pictures of sailboats on Puget Sound, snow boarders on Mt. Hood, hikers on the Olympic Peninsula; that sort of stuff. A set of Blue Tooth speakers on an antique dresser my Mom and I had refinished together pumped out jazz tunes. (Weird music for a regular kid like me, but I preferred Dave Brubeck over the more popular Hip Hop my friends collected. My mother loved jazz and played it all day long when she could. My father taught me biology and my mother gave me music.)

A picture of my blond head flashed on and off on the screen of the computer sitting on the desk next to my bed. My silly brown eyes almost sparkled in the photo taken by my father. My Kindle rested on my pillow, where I'd abandoned it before falling off to sleep. I sighed in my current drowsy state, wishing for home and my electronic refuge.

A gentle nudge and a soft whistling noise broke into my dream world. I slowly and unwillingly opened my eyes. The red rabbit towered over me, thumping my arm with one of her giant paws; her long eyelashes fluttering wildly up and down.

"Huh, what?" I replied, glancing about, attempting to focus on the situation.

The odd red creature responded by dumping a very dirty heavy blue object on my lap. Then she nudged me over and over again with her nose, as if requesting some sort of recognition.

I nodded weakly, still trying to focus.

The rabbit continued pushing her ridiculous giant bunny nostrils against me while fluttering her lashes with each small shove on my arm.

"What, what is it?" I repeated, finally coming to life.

The blue bundle shifted on my lap as I spoke. I reached out to steady it and begin my examination of what the crazy creature clearly considered an important gift.

About 10 seconds into my inspection, I jumped up and hugged the rabbit real hard. An old worn out backpack launched off my lap and landed at my feet when I jumped; its amazing contents spilling out onto the ground. Granola bars and bags of trail mix filled with nuts and chocolate chips lay within my grasp. Packets of dry cereal and powdered milk and dehydrated vegetables and meats and even water spread out on the ground at my feet.