Lady and the Wolf

The best way to describe her would be simple. One word contained the essence of her being, at least according to people around her - she was, first and foremost, old. Not her soul, no - it still burned as bright as a child’s. But the wrinkles on her forehead have been there for longer than most adults in the village were alive. Her daughters have married, bore children, grew old and died; and yet - she lived on, the village’s oldest and wisest.

But when a few people disappeared in the forest, and when she first heard rumours about a werewolf hunting on the nights of the full moon, she did the most unwise thing. She alone went into the forest, with nought but a hearty meal and a change of clothes in a bag swung over her shoulder. You see - one of the first people to disappear was one of her grand-grandsons, her very own ray of sunshine in the gloom of old age. And she was set on finding him, feeling deep in her heart that he is alive - that he must be alive.


One would call this insane, an old person finally losing touch with reality, and she was aware of that. But as the moon pulls the tide, her heart led her through the trees, showing her the hidden pathways only animals trod on. And she walked, one foot in front of the other, not looking further than a few steps forward.