WOLF HEART

My mother told me my father was a wolf that came to her on the darkest night of winter carrying the burden of Time on his back. She said she was alone when he scratched at the cabin door, whining . When she opened the door he bared his teeth without a snarl and slunk to the fire, allowing the cold to dribble away.

" He was a beautiful animal," she used to sigh in remembrance. " His coat was silver. His eyes were gold. He had been around the cabin the day before. I saw him from the window and he saw me. The lash of sunlight drove him off. I did not fear him…" she was anticipating my question. "Why should I? Wolves do not attack people when they are satisfied. And I had raised a wolf cub with my husband. I wondered if that was the wolf cub, but then I saw the stripe of midnight along his back. My wolf cub had grey fur , almost white, without a stripe. My wolf cub ran from us into the forest when he was grown as though he knew our world was no longer open to him. And now with my husband dead there came a wolf to me. To comfort me on that night , to unfreeze my heart."

I never protested her story. Never reminded her of the science of procreation. I liked to feel my sire might have been a wolf, instead of the father others attributed to me -- a man with a heavy hand who shot himself on the darkest night of the year.

I could see the scenario as my mother laid it out for me. The corpse of my father as her burden, and the unburdening of her through the beauty of a wild creature who gave her not only the gift of trust, but also the gift of love. You will not be surprised when I reveal she told me this story many years later after being confined to a mental hospital.

All through my childhood my nickname was Wolf. My hair was dark with one stripe of deep black running off to the right. Women said I had eyes that were almost golden and a long stride that always was confident. I had no trouble with women. Any woman, even those who feared me, were gentle with me. Men were my problem. They fought me at every available opportunity.

No matter that I battled them reluctantly. They came at me with firsts, knives, guns. I escaped jail through blind luck. Then when I nearly killed one of them I decided to go back to my family cabin. My farewell to my mother was poignant.

My mother by then had to be restrained. She always wanted to escape. How could I tell her I meant to escape without her? But she knew at once I would be going.

She put up her bound hands in supplication that I untie her and take her with me away from a civilization she found uncivilized. I smiled at her and shook my head, tears running fast down by cheeks.

"I want to see him." Her voice was no more than an angry whisper. " Once more before I die."

" He is dead already, mother. The life of a wolf is not a long life…even a magic wolf. You will meet him sooner if you stay here."

"He's still out there." She shook her head violently, loosening the tight knot of grey hair. " I can hear him shrieking."

" That's another wolf," I sighed. "There's always another wolf.