by Jason Graff
One day while scouting for fertile grounds on which to hunt, we watched as a family, fleeing from what we knew not, came to one of those cabins and hastily let themselves inside. Usually inhabited by armed men with deerskin canteens of liquor slung over their chests and wanton abandon glowing like madness in their eyes, it was odd to seem a young family of three occupying one. The notion of a rather less heavily armed collection of souls taking refuge in there was seemed to promise safer stalking grounds.
That night, with the moon indeed favoring the wolves inside of us, we used that cabin as a centering point and embarked on a hunt. Our plan soon proved a wise one as we came upon a small herd of deer stumbling about in the meager light of the moon’s sliver. Soon enough, a young buck found himself cut off from the herd.
From a safe distance, we tracked him as he staggered about, bleating now and again. Once we were close enough, we revealed ourselves, walking calmly and slowly into the clearing where he stood, blowing vapor wearily from his nose. Fear and confusion caught hold of him, and he raced right at me. I sunk my front teeth deep into his neck. Blood gurgled from deep in this throat, and his body went limp. Hungry from many days of berries and what other small game my human side could catch, I feasted on him without waiting for Fifika.
When at last I heard growling, my first thought it was her expressing her displeasure at my not waiting for her to eat, for even when we were wolves, she still expected a certain amount of human-like decorum. Looking up, I saw that we were had circled back around and were once again near the cabin. It took a moment before I heard the bawling of a child coming from inside.
Drawn by the sound and already ahead of me, Fifika approached the dwelling. Now it was my turn to growl in warning. We had no idea what lay inside and yet on she went, creeping up to the door. All the while, the child’s crying grew louder and louder. On her hind legs, Fifika pushed open the door of the cabin. It creaked, sending a most human shiver down my wolf spine. I kept my distance at first, ready to run.
From inside, I heard Fifika yelp in a manner that was meant to soothe. I entered behind her to a terrible scene, the man and the woman lay near each other, their chests blackened and blasted open. The child lay between them in a basket. I yelped my concern to Fifika that we should run; whomever had done this could return.
But Fifika already had laid so that the child could nurse from her teat. The look in her eyes was as close to happiness as I had seen in a long time. Now the Wolf Mother had arrived, and we would soon be three.
The music we now make with our howls makes me proud, as does the look my Fifika gives me on those nights. We have reclaimed something of the family we left behind all those years ago. Still, we have learned to be careful in our travels. There is no ancient protection in the lands in which we move.
A
bout the Author
Born in a small town outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Jason Graff has been writing since he was fourteen years old. In high school, his passion for the written word was well and truly ignited when he took a sucker punch for writing his crush a poem. He would go on to earn his bachelor’s degree at Bowling Green State University and later, his MFA in Creative Writing at Goddard College. The intense nature of that program allowed him to be mentored by a diverse group of talented writers which included: Sarah Schulman, Richard Panek, Darcey Steinke, and Rachel Pollack.
He loves both reading and producing writing that has a strong, clear voice and conveys a deep connection to the characters. He has published fiction, poetry, and essays widely in journals around the world. His poem “Your Problem With Containers” from The inaugural issue of The Great American Literary Magazine was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His subject areas range from Darth Vader to conjoined twins to the death of language.
Jason Graff currently lives in Little Falls, New Jersey with his wife, son, and their cat. He is currently working on a science fiction novel about the beginning of the end of the universe. You can follow him on Twitter at @JasonGraff1 or find his author page on Facebook.
Table of Contents
About The White Wolf’s Secret
Licensing Notes
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
About the Author
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D
edication
For Warren and Laura.
Download a Free Science Fiction eBook
Lic
ensing Notes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book, and parts thereof, may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission. For information, e-mail [email protected].
The White Wolf’s Secret
© 2018 by Jason Graff
Strange Fictions Press
An imprint of Vagabondage Press LLC
PO Box 3563
Apollo Beach, Florida 33572
http://www.vagabondagepress.com
First edition printed in the United States of America and the United Kingdom, March 2018