Little Wolf

He crossed my path, while walking through the woods. He was a little grey wolf. Though merely a cub, he was fearless. He came to me, hackles raised, teeth bared. I held my hand to him, for I felt he must have been afraid. He eyed me closely, letting his guard falter for only a moment. I stared into his eyes, awaiting his approval or disapproval. He slowly, so slowly, inched towards me. I inched closer and closer to him, until he could smell my hand. His nose was cold and wet. I smiled as his small pink tongue darted out and he licked my finger. I moved closer still, scratching behind his ears. Then, he shouted. "Come on Dana," he said, "supper is ready." And my little wolf friend ran away. I go inside, after watching him leave. After dinner, he is waiting for me. Sitting at the edge of the woods. I go to him. And every night, after supper, he is there. Waiting-- Still.