Red, The Wolf

Part 1: The Flock

The thick fog of the early morning had nearly faded, but the old shepherd barely noticed. All he could see were the agitated, fragmented remains of the flock in his care. The day had hardly begun, and already they had faced the white wolf and his savage attack. On his son's first day in the field, no less! He'd wanted to show Tobin the normal, everyday duties of a shepherd... He glanced at the sandy head sitting next to him and sighed. Ah, well, the boy would learn of the white wolf's attacks eventually, he thought to himself. It might as well be now.

He gripped the staff in his hand and counted with his eyes. One lamb, a ewe, and the stodgy bellwether were the only losses they sustained. Many flocks had fared worse, elsewhere on the mountain; the grey-bearded man had heard tell of communities afflicted by poachers and whole packs of ravenous beasts. Sometimes, a single lamb and a ewe would be all that remained after an attack. Yes, indeed; it could have been so much worse, if not for the fact that they belonged to Queston.

"Burch."

The old man lifted his eyes and blinked away his rambling thoughts at the sound of his name. One of his men, a twinkle-eyed fellow named Edan, caught his eye and nodded toward the edge of the field. Burch followed Edan's gaze to the lean figure slinking out of the bushes. He felt Tobin tremble as the boy pressed against his father's leg.

"A wolf!" Tobin rasped in a small whisper. "Is it going to attack again, father?"

Burch stood, nudging his son's shoulder as he did. "No, Tobin," he said softly, as the grey-brown creature approached with an even gait. "See how the ears are turned to the sides? She comes in peace. This is not the wolf that attacked us before, and this is the one wolf in the whole mountain that you can always trust. There is no cause for fear when the Red Wolf is near." He stayed where he was as the she-wolf paced toward him, placing her paws on the log where Burch had been sitting. Something red dangled from her mouth.

Burch held out his hand, and she dropped the thing into it: a red collar with a blood-stained bell hanging from it. The old shepherd felt a pang at the sight of it. That would be Downey, then--the ram that had so long served as the bellwether of the flock. No wonder they seemed more scattered than usual, even after such a fatal attack. With his other hand, he reached out and stroked the red wolf on the top of her head. After a few pats, he looked down at his son.

"Well, Tobin," he murmured. "Don't be afraid. Hold out your hand."

Tobin obediently raised his arm, but he was trembling too much to move forward. He just stood there, hand extended well short of the she-wolf's body.

The Red Wolf responded, stepping forward and over the log completely, letting Burch's hand trail to her back, while she slipped her head under the tentative fingers of the boy. There she stood, staring into his face with her deep golden-brown eyes.

Burch watched his son's shoulder's relax, and finally, Tobin gave the Red Wolf a few small pats. Seeing this moment took him back to their first encounter, back when Henny was only just a few years old, and Tobin but a newborn. Burch had been caught out in a fierce storm and tried to take refuge in an abandoned cave--and there she was, nothing more than a tiny pup, trembling and alone. He had taken pity on the pup, brought it back to the house, nursed it back to health--and nearly scared his poor wife to death when the wolf-cub somehow transformed into a little girl before their very eyes.

From that day forward, in recognition of the compassion shown by the couple, the Red Wolf became the steadfast guardian of Queston. Those who encountered her knew her dual nature, but some dismissed it as a woman and a wolf as separate entities bonded deeply one to the other. Her reputation grew as the years went on, and yet she never failed to protect and intervene when necessary--such as when, time and again, the white wolf worried Queston's flocks.