Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
From: an73305@anon.penet.fi (Brother Wolf)
Date: Thu, 24 Feb 1994 02:36:27 UTC
Subject: Visions of Passion

As the author of this work I maintain all copyrights but give
permission to repost this work freely to any zoo related BBSs and/or
organizations.

The story is copyrighted to the author, me, but is given for use as
any etext posting on pro zoo BBSs. This is a work of fiction and any
resemblance between any person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

More About the Author...

Brother Wolf studied at the Cambridge Institute Of Zoophiliological
Studies in Bradford, England where he received (of course) a Master's
Degree. Later, his work brought him to the forefront of the World
Zoophilia Society and he turned down a knighthood and title as head of
Her Majesty's Bestialists which he was offered after helping a certain
Liz Windsor and her favourite Corgis.

	 "And what rough Beast, his hour come round at last,
	       slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
		     W.B.Yeats The Second Coming

Love makes All things ONE
Brother Wolf
(Sirius on FurryMUCK)
(NOT John Wolfe in RL :))

			  Visions Of Passion
			       Part One
			       Darkling
			     Chapter One

	There was a springtime that year that would steal your heart
and leave you mourning for every passing glorious day. I too was in
the springtime of my life and it was long ago but that thought is not
grief for what is a man is his past and his senses and we never lose
aught of ourselves but those things we choose to abandon along the
way. Suffice to say that it was long ago, before I learned that a
voyage to seek my destiny is a descent into the self, before I came to
be trapped in man made mountains and smoke and noise. My name, my true
name is Brother Wolf, but men have always called me differently than
that.

	I was still quite human then, though lonely and reticent about
the boisterous aggregation of companions I had chosen so I spent my
time mainly by myself. I remember the day, it was hot for April and
rain had cleansed the air and made the scents of growing grass and
balm of Gilead and evergreens greet my senses like a symphony of
scent. I had walked for a mile through the forest, past the swamp
where the Mosquitoes had barely begun their post winter repopulation
and the few that flew around seemed satisfied to leave me unmolested.
Birds were calling out to one another, those special songs of spring,
the trilling wails of small suffering hearts beset by the passion of
procreation. This was the year of my change into maturity so for the
first time in my life I understood the yearning behind their music. I
felt it too with the unrelenting force that youth endows our needs.

	I was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, something I could not do
later in the year when the thorns and burdock and biting insects owned
the deep woods. The sun peeked through the canopy of leaves with a
playful heat that tickled where the light touched. On such a day as
this my mood was fine and I felt ready for some human companionship so
I headed up the trail to my friends house. His house, like mine, was
screened from the blacktop road by a barrier of sumach and oak and
pine trees. I did not see the car so I knew his mother was probably
out shopping with my friend's sisters just like most Saturdays. His
father had dies four years earlier and my friend still grieved. I
suppose it was this quality that had made us friends, his grief and my
timidity gave us both a gentleness that was unusual in the
roughnecking countryside where we lived.

	I knocked on the door and didn't get an answer, except for a
quiet woofing from inside. I opened the door and went in. No one I
knew ever locked their doors in those days, too little to steal and
too few people coming round with inclinations of larceny. I wanted to
see if my friend had settled himself into the basement with his radio
and the few beer he usually snuck out of the fridge on these Saturday
mornings.

	I stepped into the hallway. The dogs came running to greet me.
Blackie, the eldest was the mother Darkling. Blackie was a large
German Shepherd, almost totally black. She sniffed me and licked my
hand. After seeing that I had her mother's approval, Darkling came up
to perform the same greeting ritual. I looked around the house, dogs
trailing like a guard of honour (which they were, they would have let
me take anything except their bowls of food because they knew it
wasn't in me to be a thief}. My friend wasn't home and as I was
getting ready to leave I wrote a note saying I had been here and now
I'd be wandering home again. The dogs wanted out so I opened the door
for them, happy to do a service for my gracious hosts. Blackie ran
outside immediately but Darkling paused and sat down in front of me so
I could pet her.

	Darkling was beautiful. She was a cross breed between her
German Shepherd mother and a black Labrador retriever father. She had
intelligent amber eyes, a delicately pointed face, a slim solid body
and coal black fur that was so soft and fine it was like a thick
satiny swath of velvet. She leaned back into my hand as I petted her
and lay back on my legs. I felt myself losing sense of time as I let
my hands ruffle through her fur. I felt a passion welling up inside me
that made it difficult to breath. I was suddenly unafraid of anything
as the moment continued. Darkling wiggled and began to lick my face.
The clean scent of her breath was intoxicating. I eased her to the
floor and began to stroke her from the tip of her nose to her tail.

	I had never done anything or felt anything like this moment on
this day. I was not shy, not awkward, not young, not human. I pulled
off my restraining shorts and gently settled on top of Darkling. She
gave a soft and tender growl. I could smell the gentle musky fragrance
that swam up from her fur and body. Our tongues explored the insides
of each others mouths, the thrill of tongue tip on fang awoke the wild
beast within me. I exploded, jetting white on her black fur and lay
beside her while she licked herself clean and carefully took off the
last drops of fluid from the tip of my penis.

	I lay for a timeless time with her in a world where there was
just the two of us. I do not know how long it was before I reclothed
myself and opened the door to find the same spring morning. We emerged
into the day and she walked me home. In the state I was in I might
have gotten lost in the woods that were such a part of me had she not
been there for me. We passed a stand of cedar that grew almost as one.
Darkling lowered herself onto her belly and crawled in through the
trees. Enamoured I followed and we emerged into a small clearing not
five feet wide at some distance off the mail trail. The rabbits and
deer had stripped the cedar branches off the inside of this copse
leaving a natural bower with the sky as the ceiling.

	I stood up then and Darkling knocked me down by bumping the
back of my legs when I least suspected it. She leaped onto my chest
and grabbed my throat gently with her teeth and growled that same soft
growl she had spoken to me before. I twisted quickly and gently pinned
her down and quickly grabbed her throat and growled. She wagged her
tail and I released her. We had become one in the fashion of true
mating and we knew there was no turning back. We both had found our
first love and there could never be a barrier between us.

	With this realization came others. Like a door into fire
suddenly opened there began a change in me. Natures world made sense
to me. I knew my place within it as caretaker, protector, and animal.
I saw the other lives before my own. I saw the web of interaction and
interdependency of which I was only a part. I saw the conceit and
horror of the human condition.

	Like iron filings in a magnetic field, all the parts of my
psyche that had bred chaos in my being aligned and clarified the focus
of the unseen world into which I had entered. My ancestors have been
druids and followers of the old religion and I knew their blood in me
burned hot and strong. I dreamed of the world that once they knew and
the passion that shaped it. I saw the coming of the Christian faith
and how they accepted the love of all things. I saw the darker days
after, hunted, driven by the persecutions of the Inquisition, the old
ones reduced to shattered remnants whose recollection of the Way was
perverted by the lies of blood sacrifice the glory seeking inquisitors
spread at every turn, wrenching confessions with methods so vile I do
not wish to have this knowledge. The final destruction of my kind when
those deluded, pathetic fools took the confessions elicited by the
inquisitors from their victims as a pattern for their rituals. All
was madness in those days but nature is ever patient.

	A time has come when the forces that walked the earth shall
walk again. A man will come, a druid, who has been given understanding
of the true life yet must deny this and seek the places of man,
understand man, and teach so that the same mistakes will not come
again. Yet no man is so strong as to know destiny and survive intact.
I had to learn madness and love and humility.

	I was staring into a plane with no horizon and losing myself
faster than I could come into being. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in
my ear and I was myself again. Darkling had bitten my earlobe hard,
drawing blood. She stuck her nose right between my eyes and tickled my
nose with her tongue till I could not help but laugh. She looked at me
and smiled and I knew she was right, how did I ever expect to live in
such a beautiful world on such a beautiful day if I took everything so
seriously. It was no wonder dogs had such a hard time domesticating
humans.

	We had found a place to make love and a lover to be with and
that was all that mattered. I removed the last restricting signs of
humanity and she came to me there as she would so many more times. I
curled around her seeking the warmth and affection that had been
missing in my life and we lay in comfortable contact until our glade
began to fill up with the shadows of the night. Being young and having
the resilience and recuperative power of youth I grew hard again and
her skin next to mine felt like a cool fire. This time we went more
slowly, more freely, exploring and touching. She was as curious about
me as I was of her. The kid leather feeling of her belly, the firmness
of her flanks, the facility of her long pink tongue were delights. She
sat down on my stomach and began to lick my thighs. I wanted to clutch
her to me but I didn't want her to interrupt what she was doing. The
tongue began to centre at my groin and her speed picked up. I spouted
semen onto her cheek and into her mouth while she slowly continued to
lick me in places and ways no human lover ever could. Night came and I
pulled on my clothes and thought about that day. I knew I was
different but I knew I loved and was loved and if I carve that on my
tombstone it would be a worthy summation of my life.

			     Chapter Two

	The day was ending and I wanted nothing more than for it to
continue forever, to slip into a long twilight and never have the sun
rise but the universe neither cared nor yet cares about my wishes. I
was too young to resent that fact back then, and I am too old to do so
now and the circle closes and the cycle ends. I still regret the
passing of that day though not its existence. Is it that which defines
freedom?

	As we parted, I wondered about this day, now as I write this,
would I come to believe I was monstrous, would I accept the choice I
made despite the prejudices of my society? I somehow knew back then,
floating before me were future memories, of contentment and change.

	These questions about myself that I have asked so many times
that the questions define me as much as the answers. The age I was
when I thought the important thing to do was find the answers. The age
I am I know the important thing is looking for the answers. In search
of an enigma, I climbed up the hay loft and onto the roof of our barn
and lay back with the heavens above me.

	I could hear the dog telegraph working on such a still night.
Those who walk down country lanes in the time of the quiet stillnesses
know what I mean. A dog barks, its echo is taken up by the dogs around
it and passed on, gaining information and complexity. The short single
or quick double barks signifying `I am here'. The three long barks for
`and this is my home'. The asynchronous rapid pattern of `something
isn't right'. The long low woofs of `If I were nearer to you we'd see
who is toughest'. The rapid fire series of higher pitched barks `Aha I
know where the intruder is'. I had some skill in telling the changes
in the random night sounds and sometimes could tell about the
countryside for five miles around. There were other things too, it is
an iron clad rule that a dog will never get involved in the dog
telegraph if his people were around. It's not a language but it is an
expression and it is consistent for the same set of dogs.

	The haze cleared as the air cooled down and the stars began to
show. The milky way was a backdrop cloud of glowing haze to the
configurations of the stars who were no less lovely to me than they
would have been if I had known their names. This was a deliberate
ignorance. At one time it had not occurred to me that people would
want to name the stars and when I found out about the constellations
it seemed to me to be such a laughable conceit label this majesty in
our poor words I wanted nothing to do with the knowledge.

	I realized why I had come here of all places. I needed the
memory of my resistance to help me come to terms with what had just
happened. Again, here was something I had found that defied
description, the words to describe it, derogatory and harsh had less
meaning than the names hung on the stars. Bugger, Dog Fucker,
bestiality, pervert, freak were words that came unbidden to my mind
but not in my voice, and I knew that sometimes it was going to be hard
to keep the memories as pure as they deserved to be. I knew that
someday, I would call them forth and demand an accounting from them
and anything I lost along the way would make it harder to understand
myself. I had passed the first great challenge that a zoophile faces,
I accepted myself as more than the sum of my parts. I did not know of
the loneliness that came with it, the burden of silence in the face of
prejudice, the doubt that creeps in on bad days but I had my first and
greatest weapon against those things, I had myself.

	I climbed down to earth and went into my house. On those long
summer days I had freedom. My parents would tell me when we needed to
get the work done and I did it gladly. In return, ever since I was 10
years old I kept my own schedule in the summer. It was easier for
everyone concerned as I was one to grab a tent, a box of matches, my
bedroll and a fishing rod and come back only when I was heartily sick
of the small perch that lived in the small lakes nearby. Not really a
good practice since the lakes were shallow and tended to be warm I
invariably picked up son intestinal fauna every summer from the fish.
Dr. Baker would call me in every year in August and give me a foul
tasting worm treatment, and gave one for me to take a few weeks later.
I remember the second year that happened, I poured the second draught
down the sink and lost 10 pounds before Christmas. Sometimes I wish my
life had been just a little more boring.

	I climbed into my bed between the soft flannel sheets and fell
asleep before I could get myself comfortably positioned. We had a
Bantam rooster who made up in sheer vocal volume for all his
diminutive size. Dawn was about 6:15 and I swear someone spliced my
life twixt the night and the dawn. I tried to go back to sleep but I
felt somehow too alive to return to the little death, as I have heard
it called. I heard sounds in the kitchen and I realized I hadn't eaten
a thing since the morning before.

	Sarah the sow was sizzling in little salted smoky strips, and
there were eggs frying too. My mother was in her housecoat, and Dad
was in his overalls, a plaid shirt, and workboots. The morning was
taking on a familiar feel after the day before. I drained three
glasses of water. It tasted sweet and cold as it did when the water
table was high after the generous rains of the spring.

	I ate a heaping plate full of protein and four thick slices of
bread covered in fresh unsalted butter so sweet it was like whipped
cream. If I could eat that good food once again I'd keel over in a
fortnight with cholesterol clogged arteries but what a way to go!

	Dad looked at me and smiled," the north forty is still too wet
so, since we have the other planting done I guess you're gonna be able
to answer the call of the wild again today."

	I couldn't help blushing a bit, I wanted to laugh and I shook
my head, "Yep, a day like this brings out the beast in me." That was
my own subtle jibe at the Reverend Mackenzie, a hellfire and damnation
preacher who would come and beard the lions in the den, (we were one
of the few full fledged agnostics at that time that didn't go to
church even for appearance sake at Thanksgiving, Easter, and
Christmas) and despite any weather, good or ill, he'd start off about
the bounty of God and His good work and always slip in "a day like
this brings out the best in me."

	"You're not a wit son, but you're halfway there," Dad
responded. I was in my thirties before I could turn the post and
riposte of our conversational contests into a stalemate. He looked at
me and said, to catch me off guard "So boy, you have a girlfriend
yet?"

	"No, but it is something that bears thinking about," I said
seriously. He did a quick double take and began to chuckle. I never
felt so close to and so detached from him in all my life. I was 21
before I ever let him know about my secret life but he knew me as well
as I knew myself. What surprised me, that day, so many years later,
was his quiet and amused acceptance. He was often like that with
anything I did. He was a farmer through and through, with a farmer's
patience, fatalism, love of the land. He was also one of the most
intellectual men I ever knew and read and remembered more than I ever
shall. When he later sold the farm to pay for the chemotherapy
treatments Mom needed, and went through the emotional storms that
followed I learned to understand him intimately. By 1968 cancer
finished her and grief finished him but even at his funeral I thought
back and laughed about all the times we had laughed together and then
I felt his hand on my shoulder and I saw him, not the shell he was
finished with.

	I helped wash the dishes and shook off my sleepiness with two
strong cups of coffee, a substance I still remain addicted to despite
an ulcer, the wages of sin and all that. The dew sparkled on the
grass, the day was slightly cooler than the day before so it remained
in glistening droplets. I ran outside the door, dropped and rolled
till I was soaking wet. It felt good to be cold. The chill woke my
skin with its tingling sensations. I began to run down the path in the
woods, not going too fast, but steadily, generating my own heat. I was
dampened only by my own perspiration when I neared Darkling's house. I
noticed the paradigm shift I had undergone. It was no longer my
thought that it was the house of my friend, that was an interesting
and pleasant fact to be filed away, it was indeed Darkling's house.

	I slowed to a walk so I could cool off and stretch. I heard a
rusting beside me. It was, of course, Darkling coming out again to
meet me. She leapt from the cover of the bushes, grabbed my pantleg
and knocked me off my feet. Her tongue licked over my face. I could
smell the chemical smell of dogwood on her breath and wondered for the
first time what it was made of. Darkling then jumped back and
stretched lowering her chest to the ground, looked at me coquettishly
and raced off into the forest.

	It was a thoroughly unequal contest. I never have had the
speed and senses of a good dog. Still, I chased on and on. Sometimes I
missed her trail entirely and when I stopped I could hear her heading
towards me, when her path took her under leafy trees, the main part of
the forest was pine and fallen pine needles are a silent sound
muffling carpet that hides tracks. Occasionally I would manage to
intersect her path and reach out and get hold of her, according to the
rules of this game it was my turn to run off and try to avoid being
tagged and I played my part to the best of my ability. In an open
space I am quite good at quick direction shifts to be able to avoid
leaps and Darkling would only close in for the kill in open spaces.
Easy prey is no fun for anyone.

	By midday we were down by the stream where the rocks had been
tumbled smooth by the water and left at a bend in the path of the
stream. The day turned hot quite suddenly. I shucked my clothes and
lay down in the stream. The water was clear and cold, there were few
leeches in the gravel. Darkling came wading in after me, her Labrador
heritage showing through and lapped at the water to slake her thirst.

	The sight woke appetites of another kind in me and I went back
to lie on the bank of the stream. Darkling came up to me and I stroked
her paws and chest to get her to lie down. She relaxed and started
licking beneath my chin. The shocking cold of the water in her fur,
its softness, her inner heat were pleasant contrasts. She relaxed and
trusted me as I climbed on top of her. I began to move gently and
slowly feeling her fur on me, tasting her mouth, the tiny ridges on
the inside of her upper jaws. Again her fangs and teeth, so unlike my
own were mine to explore. I came on her fur again, white on black,
ecstasy and union.

	She commenced the slow cleaning that I didn't need but loved
the feel of, showing tenderness in a dog way. I stroked her, showing
tenderness in a human way. We were happy.

			    Chapter Three

	Something was singing nearby, one of those unidentifiable
little birds who exist merely to break the silence. They, at least
have no pretensions that their sounds have meaning, the people who I
knew that acted in a similar fashion usually have.

	Darkling and I had long been dried by the gentle air currants.
I was beginning to feel a slight chill but I wanted to forget that I
wore clothing, that I was anything other than a beast. I tried to
press as much of myself deeply into Darkling's warm soft fur and she
obliged by cuddling in closer. A dog does not have arms to hold you
but they articulate their feelings through every inch of their body.
They undulate back and forth that in intimate contact is unlike any
other experience.

	Darkling was all velvet heat, tickling as she moved. Beneath
her fur was the firm body of a young active bitch. Her hips stroked
the inside of my thighs as she moved. Her tail, expressing her emotion
was jostling my balls at random. I moved so that I could enter her but
after some fumbling I realized that we could not go that far just yet.
It was not her season, but her trust in me was such that I could have
tried. I have seen her savage an over lusty male dog who approached
her when she was not in heat and try to mount her.

	I was between her back legs, pressing her hips between my
thighs. I could feel my cock surrounded by fur when she suddenly
turned and curled her head down and licked the tip, her nose striking
me like an ice cube. The sensation was blinding as I came so soon
after we had made love before.

	I lay back, drained and panting and closed my eyes and lost
myself in the red haze that filled my senses. The sound of the water,
the birds, Darkling's easy breathing, my own heart beat, the chill on
my back, her warmth between my legs, the smell of the trees and the
mud by the waters edge blended with my own pleasure until for a
timeless moment that lasted forever I was filled with a glowing
nothingness that was beyond joy.

	All sensations fade with time, the world moves on, carrying us
as its unwilling hostages. The red haze remained though and I realized
the sun was setting. I had to go, I pulled on my clothes, and stood
up. I walked with Darkling to her home and knocked on my friend's
door. He was home, sitting, relaxing and reading. I wanted to tell
him about what I was feeling. I couldn't say a word, putting
everything into language would objectify my experiences and at the
same time lose the essence of them. He looked lonely, I suddenly
noticed, and sad.

	"What's up?" I asked, we had been friends for too long to
bother with small talk and conversational gambits.

	"We're moving," he said, "to Edmonton, Alberta. Mom's sister
is sick, the one that drinks. Mom wants to be there to help her
recover. She said some things about wanting to start over, make a new
life, get away from her memories of Dad and start living again. She
just got a transfer to a location out west so now she has a job too. I
knew she had been trying to arrange it but I thought she'd change her
mind before it all came together."

	"Have you talked to her, does she know how you feel?" I asked
"Maybe she thinks it's what you and your sisters want, to find a new
place, change your lives, a new adventure."

	"No, I haven't said anything because I know that everything
has been hard for her, she has enough to do, to worry about. I know I
have been hurting since Dad died and she loved him so much. I never
thought about how beautiful she was when he was here, how they'd get
together, and everything would be all right again. Now she's had no
one to help her make things all right, we try, but... " He shrugged
and broke off.

	"I don't want to lose my best friend." I said.

	"Neither do I" he replied, "but, I'm not worrying about you,
we can write, we can read, we can travel to see one another. Mom still
has her Aunt May living in Littlewater. I will miss standing on
Parson's hill, whipping spring apples of the ends of green twigs and
ringing the bell on the church, and all the other things we do but
Edmonton is a city, nothing but buildings and pavement and cement and
cars screeching and people and lights everywhere."

	"It won't be so bad, it sounds kind of exciting, sometimes we
raise hell together cause we have nothing else except ourselves and a
lot of time and no excitement at all. A man could die of boredom out
here, this just might save your life." I grinned at him, he looked
back at me with more pain than a simple parting of the ways should
ever bring.

	"It's not that, it's not me and you, or being surrounded by
strangers all the time. I can get by that, and moving to the big city
is exciting. It's the dogs, they can't come with us." He had tears in
his eyes as he spoke.

	My heart and stomach seemed to have changed places, I knew how
much he loved Blackie and Darkling, and that they loved him more than
anything or anyone, and he deserved their love. It was never a
consideration of my own desires, I hoped that he could find a way to
take the dogs with him, even though I would be separated from the love
that was growing between me and Darkling, the bond between a dog and
the human it owns is deeper than love.

	"Could you take care of them ?" he asked.

	"I will, I really like Blackie and I think I love Darkling.
Maybe it'll be just for a little while, when you get settled in, have
a place with a big back yard, you know."

	"God, I hope so" he breathed.

	The next few months passed quickly, the fields needed tending,
summer came, and the school year ended. I saw Darkling only
occasionally, my chores kept me busy, and I knew that this time was
for Her and Blackie and my friend to say goodbye.

	The day came, the house was emptied, the family packed off
into their car. Blackie and Darkling were in shock, they knew
something was going on but not its permanence. For the first month, I
made the trip through the woods to the house every day while the two
maintained their vigil.

	Soon after, they concluded that they were left alone and
followed me gravely and silently. They began to mourn, barely eating,
sleeping too much, staying too quiet. It hurt me to look at them since
I understood the reality of their feelings. If I could accept the love
of a dog, I could accept her grief. I sat, whenever I could, between
Blackie and Darkling, a hand resting on each of their necks and shared
their suffering as best I could. I did not notice myself wanting to
make love with Darkling, our passion was subsumed in the enormity of
their loss.

	Time does bring healing, we humans tend to think that means
erasure of our pain, I discovered through Darkling that becoming whole
again meant encompassing emotions, not obliterating them. Her grief
remained but her life began to reassert itself, as it did with
Blackie. They learned to accept life and to move on.

	When we began our play again, it was suddenly and fully. I was
hiking, the two dogs trailing behind when I stopped to answer a call
of nature. I finished relieving myself and Darkling began to lick me,
a devilish gleam in her eye, and her body broadcasting the open for
biological business signs. She stood up and placed her paws on my
chest. I backed away to a soft patch of grass and began to get
undressed. It was like moving in a dream, everything was in slow
motion, like time had be run like some movie recollection of a distant
past.

	When I was completely naked, she came to stand by me,
circling, brushing around my body gently and softly with her own. I
stroked her back, her belly, her tail, and her thighs. She stood in
front of me, looked back over her shoulder and again began to lick me.
Dogs have the softest, most sensual tongues, smooth and facile, I
became hard. She lowered her front legs, and pushed up with her hind
legs and looked back at me. She was ready to receive me. Her tail was
up, and I could see the fluid that glistened on her.

	I placed my hands in front of her hips, and rose up to meet
her. She pushed back and I pushed forward, we went so slowly for the
experience was new to both of us. Soon I was inside her, I could feel
her muscles gripping me. We barely moved, I remained inside her,
feeling her warmth. Soon, the sensations of our small motions built up
to a climax and I went as deeply as I dared and climaxed with an
orgasm that seemed to last for hours, filling her with my own fluids.
We looked at one another, wondering what we had become, stunned by the
pleasure and the beauty of what happened. We belonged to one another
now, soul to soul, and body to body forever. Soon too, we would no
longer be alone.

			  Visions Of Passion
			       Part Two
				Wolf
			     Chapter One

	In the moment we had joined I had felt a quickening in
Darkling, in her flesh, the object of her desire was clear. She did
love me. After our passion was spent she stood upon her hind legs and
gripped my waste with her front paws and we moved in the quick clumsy
steps of the dog mating waltz, reversing the normal order of mating
and courtship. We had to do something to express our bonding and her
rituals are as sacred as mine. I knew that in her summer she had aged,
matured by grief and the seven fold expansion of dog time. I was still
little more than a boy and she had grown beyond the innocence of the
spring. I sat down and began to think, Darkling lay quietly by my
side. I grabbed her face and kissed her ears while she licked my neck.
She knew that I understood.

	I could be her lover, her companion, but she needed a mate.
Our contact together had made this known to both of us. I could be
many things but I couldn't plant the life within her that she
required. I thought about the dogs who lived nearby. One was a toy
poodle with a bladder problem. The Labrador retriever who sired her
had both a brother and a sister from other litters, but that was too
close a relationship to allow breeding. There was a maltreated pit
bull on the McKlusky farm but he was as likely to attack her as couple
with her. There was a little border collie, owned by the Ankman
sisters, but he was old, overfed and half blind.

	I stood up again to keep moving, sometimes thoughts seem to go
with the scenery, stay in a certain place too long and your ideas
begin to chase themselves like squirrels. I had some savings, I could
hire a dog with a pedigree but the only pedigreed dog I ever met was a
spoiled Pomeranian bitch that had a yipping that was so high she
attracted those small insectivorous bats that swarmed the twilight
skies. Funny, the only pedigreed people I ever met seemed a lot like
that too, what they called marrying in to the BEST families me and Dad
called inbreeding and worked mighty hard to keep our livestock from
doing it, but then, I'm a simple country bumpkin and I just don't get
a vote in high society.

	Just around the bend I saw a flash of white and heard a
cracking and breaking like something was taking off through the woods
in an awful hurry. It was a deer and it moved so fast I took two steps
towards it and it disappeared. Blackie and Darkling launched
themselves after the deer, taking such long strides their bellies
seemed to scrape the ground. I followed, tracking as best I could. It
wasn't too hard to follow their trail, the hooves of the deer kicked
up the dry pine needles exposing the moist loam beneath. The deer
wouldn't worry about his trail until after he shakes off his pursuers.
It isn't too hard around the swamp with its lacing of grey fallen dead
trees. The deer can clear obstacles like a high jumper and come out
running on the other side.

	There was no sense running, I listened to the sounds fade away
as I walked alone through the green cathedral forest. The light was
coming through the trees just so, like stained glass, all greens and
greys and browns, and the rust coloured carpet of silencing pine. The
hunters and the hunted had raced so far in front of me that I was no
longer in a shell of disturbed silence. The crickets began to sing
first, the trail took me away from the swamp so I began to think that
I might be in for a long trek. There were ripe summer blackberries
edging the clearings I passed and the inevitable wild strawberries
among the grass, and I have always been a patient hunter. Soon,
plucking the tiny sweet strong strawberries from amongst their dime
sized leaves became my goal, rather than the chase. There is no taste
like wild strawberries, they may be tiny but no one who has never
tasted them can imagine savouring them. Garden strawberries don't
taste the same, they are acidic and mild and too soft, the only thing
they are is bigger, such is the nature of progress for the sake of
progress.

	I listened to the hushed sounds of the blue jays scolding. I
saw the nondescript female jay sitting on a tree branch laying down
the law to her bright sky blue mate. He occasionally lifted his black
edged wings as if shrugging, and turned his head from side to side
exposing his white throat, looking as if he would rather be flying. I
could hear the loud high tcheet tcheet of a squirrel and saw a grey
tail sticking out of a hollow tree, moving agitatedly at each cry. I
watched a porcupine, fat and round, climbing up the trunk of a maple,
walking up the seamed bark as if he were on the ground. Here
everything made sense, lying in a peaceful order that changes so
slowly it is a moving stillness, cycling through its changes, driven
by necessity, static dynamics. The city has always been a different
sort of place for me, dynamic stasis, always moving, never still,
driven by fashion and frenzy, changing and changing and changing
without surcease or purpose, hungry motivations without goal.

	There is peace in among the trees and no creature that would
not prefer to flee rather than confront a human. Are we so terrible ?
We destroy whole species wastefully, we kill for fun, we decimate and
desecrate the land we are the custodians of, and banish its owners to
oblivion. I can accept no fact till I know the truth about it, and
around it. I walk unmolested and torment myself with the reasons that
might be so.

	By my reckoning I had been walking for 10 miles through bush
and among cedar, pine and even the occasional small thin oak tree or
spreading maple. I was beginning to think of returning home and
waiting. Several times before the dogs would leave for business of
their own and return in a day or two, they do not get lost. The trail
was getting hard to follow, the ground was only a shallow scattering
of humus. Battleship grey limestone poked above the soil more
frequently and the dry white lichen that grew on every exposed rock
surface was too resistant to bear marks.

	Off to my left I could see a faint mottling of the sky and I
knew it would not be long to sunset even though the trees had screened
me from the position of the sun for the latter half of the afternoon.
I heard a slight snicking of claws on stone and whirled around to see
Blackie coming into view from the edge of the forest, alone. She
carried her head upright, running in an easy lope, her tail at half
mast, her usual mode of moving through the woods. I knew that nothing
had happened to Darkling because Blackie was not concerned. She came
up and bumped my legs, wagged her tail and looked up to me. I could
tell she was happy to see me again and bemused at how humans ever got
anything done considering how slow they were.

	Now that I had a guide I could travel much faster, I followed
Blackie through the swiftly darkening groves. She stopped occasionally
to make sure I didn't get lost, yawning a little each time she had to
stop, eyes raised towards heaven to implore the creator to help
augment her doggish patience, in short she found my woodsman's skills
of a sort to be worthy of laughter.

	We came to a clearing, it was surrounded by tall pine and
birch trees. The white bark on the birches had peeled of in places to
show the dark brown underneath. From the ground up to a height of five
feet the cedars had been stripped of most of their outer layer of bark
and I knew we were in deer territory.

	There was a hummock of limestone which some ancient stream had
hollowed into a cave. As we approached, Darkling emerged from the cave
and ran to me. Behind her emerged a timber wolf who ran at me.
Darkling turned and snarled, imposing herself between the wolf and I.
I watched with amazement when the wolf backed off then I realized, I
was the cause of a domestic dispute between Darkling and her new found
mate.

	I began to smile, for Darkling to have such a mate was more
than I dared hope for. All my previous planning and worries fell away
in that moment as I watched the two together. They touched muzzles
giving each other little kisses that with the tips of their tongues
only as they moved in chest to chest then one or the other would lay
their head on the other's neck. They stood together and exchanged
small noises that were unmistakably endearments.

	He was large, long legged and almond eyed. His coat was
shaggy, grey and tan, brindled with brown. He stood firmly on
deceptively thin and delicate long legs and regarded me seriously and
with a hint of menace. I stood up taller and straighter and stared
calmly back at him, conquering my fear. I was after all on his
territory, even if he loved the same dog I did, I didn't think that
would save me for an instant if he decided that I did not belong here.
After a time he relaxed his guard, his hormones or his emotions
softening the harsh clarity in his eyes as he became the love struck
fool again. He approved of me, I wasn't afraid of him, he knows my
species well, what we fear, we kill.

	Soon, I was no more than a fixture, no more threatening than a
possum as I sat quietly with my back against a tree. As it got cooler,
Blackie came to lie beside me, I was grateful to share her warmth.
The twilight was coming, the green lost its lustre and became a grey
monotone. The moon showed above the trees as a pale translucent ghost.
The first faint flickerings of the northern lights became visible.
This far south we rarely saw colours and instead saw a luminescent
dance of cirrus cloud like forms, or more frequently, nothing at all.

	Darkling and the wolf were dancing the courtship dance again,
her paws were on his ribs since he was so big, his paws rested on her
shoulders. They shuffled slowly, tails wagging. It was a beautiful
sight. I watched the two lovers amidst a backdrop of stars.

	She stood with her head held high, glancing back as he
approached her. The wolf mounted her and moved into position with
jerky walking motions, hi erection visible in the twilight only in
silhouette, the bulb near his body enlarged. He entered her, his eyes
closed while he penetrated and began to move back and forth with a
look of deep ecstasy on his face. After he was still, they stayed
mounted together for half an hour. At last he slipped out of her and
the two began to relax.

	I did something then so unstintingly stupid that the
recollection sometimes haunts my nightmares. I went up to the two
lovers, entranced by their coupling, unthinking in the heat of my own
sexual excitement. I placed my hand on Darkling's head and laid my
other hand on the wolf's head.

	Before I could think of moving my hand off, the wolf had
knocked me down and was going for my throat and I saw a mouthful of
sharp curved teeth. Almost at the same time, Blackie had perceived
what I was going to try and do and had launched herself at me to knock
me back. The wolf's reflexes surprised her too but instead of
aborting her leap she used her weight to knock him out of his
trajectory. He didn't get pushed far but it was enough. The delay
allowed Darkling to intercede again. I lay still and the wolf stood
above me with two paws on my chest. He brought his muzzle down very
close to my neck and shut his teeth with a sharp click to remind me of
what I had almost forced him to do.

	Maybe it was jealousy or maybe it was shock but I grabbed onto
the wolf with my arms and legs and rolled so quickly he got taken by
surprise and carried along. Suddenly I was on top of the wolf and in
that moment I knew the experience of riding the tiger. OK, it worked
stupid, now what are you going to do with a hundred and fifty pound
wolf who barely tolerates your presence?

	I rolled back over because I couldn't think of anything else I
could do and released my grip. The wolf was still surprised but I was
no longer doing anything to earn his retribution. He backed off and
looked at me as if he was wondering if perhaps I was rabid and not in
my right mind. He retired to his den in the cave, to think about this
strange perverse defenceless creature that had earned the love of his
two new companions.

	Darkling came over to me. She gave me a look that spoke
volumes about the kind of trouble I would get into if I didn't have
her to look after me. The chastisement over, she settled down beside
me. I could feel her warm breath in my lap, tickling. I thought about
how lucky I had been to keep my working parts intact right now. I
undid my pants and pulled them open. Darkling began to lick me again,
long slow strokes with her tongue at first. She built up speed and at
the last moment stopped licking me and took me carefully and gently in
her mouth. The orgasm surged like fire washing away my fear of death
and the danger and the worrying. She curled up beside me that night
and soon was sleeping. I saw the wolf watching from his den,
occasionally he would come out and circle nearer. Wolves are honest
creatures, he didn't kill me so I wouldn't get hurt by him if I didn't
try to presume too much friendship on his part. He would guard
Darkling and I was with Darkling so I was under his protection too. We
both had our own authority and power and the wolf and I had seen it in
each other, I just hoped he was as impressed by me as I was by him.

	I slipped into sleep in this perverse children's story world
which I now inhabited, I was little red riding hood and the wolf was
protecting me. My lover loves the big bad wolf. I was sleeping
surrounded by soft fur and warmth, dreaming furry dreams.

			     Chapter Two

	My eyes seemed to have woken before the rest of me. I was
seeing and dreaming and my sleep drugged mind was unable to
distinguish the silent form in front of me as part of reality. I
reached out my hand and tried to grab the pointed muzzle of the
phantasm before me. The sound of a 140 pound wolf leaping straight up
and backwards five feet brought me fully awake.

	The wolf was staring at me through half closed eyes, the edges
of his lips showed black as they twitched in the beginnings of a snarl
that he never completed. Instead he remained at a distance from me and
delicately extended his front paw to touch the part of Darkling that
was furthest from me. He seemed to be going through pangs of
embarrassment, knowing he looked comedic as he tried to rouse his
mate. He had such a long reach as he stretched out his front leg to
its full length of almost three feet that he looked overly dainty.

	Darkling was roused and aroused in the same instant. As she
awoke she went over and began to walk in one direction and another
beside him, running the length of their bodies together in a way that
left no doubt as to her intentions. Occasionally she would stop and
grab his upper jaw with her mouth and bite gently while making soft
growling noises that were so steeped in desire they were almost a
purr. Any thought of chastisement for her previous inexplicable
behaviour vanished from the wolf's mind and a new tension began to
suffuse his body.

	I had always seen dog matings as ungraceful at best and
comical at worst because of the ardor that leant such unreserved
frenzy to the actions of the male dog. With Darkling I knew from my
own experience that she could move as smoothly and supply as a mink.
The wolf could move with the agility of a dancer and the speed of a
martial artist. Last night he had been pure need and raw hunger for
Darkling's flesh but on this morning of this day I saw him as a lover.
I knew wolves mated for life, unlike dogs, but what I did not even
guess was the sophisticated sensuality they discovered in this
practice. I am not a voyeur by nature and find human couplings
normally uninspired and uninteresting. When I saw the two in intimate
loveplay I felt like a supplicant at an ancient rite, older than the
time of man, that subsumes the passions of the senses and the
fertility of life into a golden force. The feelings and visions I had
when I loved this bitch returned and left more of their traces in my
mind, now becoming memories concrete and solid instead of mere
impressions. Even as this change progressed inside me, this awakening,
I continued to absorb this beautiful and touching display. Where they
moved and touched I felt the caress, their nerve endings became my own
and we were joined.

	At first the wolf moved languidly with slow easy grace as he
began to sniff and nuzzle Darkling's face. She responded, her mouth
opening and closing. His grey and tan shadings made him look a mottled
grey in the early morning light and against the black of Darkling's
fur the scene could have been a black and white image. My human vision
was no sharper than any other member of a wolf pack. Sometimes I could
see the brown of her eyes or amber flashes of his and sometimes I
could see their tongues pinkly wet flashing surrealistically. Colour
seemed an intruder here.

	I could hear them breath and sometimes thought I caught the
rapidly rising rhythms of their heartbeats in the still air. The night
creatures had returned to their layers and the day had not begun, the
dog and the wolf made love in this strange purgatory. His nuzzling
became insistent as he moved his head down her body and between her
legs. I could hear the soft stroking sound as he began to taste her,
his tongue darting out and his body beginning to move forward almost
imperceptibly each time he licked her. Without her volition, Darkling
began to widen her back legs and squat slightly towards the ground. I
watched him licking her with growing enjoyment as he bathed and
stroked her vagina and beneath her tail. Darkling closed her eyes and
her head began to whip around like a blindly seeking snake. Without a
warning the wolf mounted her in one motion and entered her with his
first thrust. He moved differently from a dog this time, not shifting
from his legs and hips in the erratic jerky motion I had seen before.
Instead he began to rock forwards and backwards smoothly and easily
and with excessive grace moving inward and outward as much as the
canine anatomy allows. I heard Darkling begin to make a high regular
keening sound that was not pain but joy. When the wolf reached orgasm
his body stiffened as if it had been electrified and released all the
tension within him in moments. The release of passion left them
gasping and wobbly, wafting the scent of musk on the first morning
breezes.

	It was only the realization that I would be killed that kept
me from disrobing and joining the lovers and even then, the decision
was not an easy one. The light began to bring more colour into the
world and the silent forest came awake with chirping birdsongs and my
mind began to shed the wolf's pelt with which my imagination had
clothed me. The changeling spell which I had cast had ended and I was
free and restless with my own humanity, even as the wolf became more
content with it.

	When I stood up he did not rise from his resting place where
he and Darkling lay. I had to be moving since my own biology had
claimed me and the pressure on my bladder was intense. I knew also
that my self control was thin and Blackie was not an anthropophile. My
obvious excitement made elimination more difficult. I began to walk
through the forest, looking for a stream or pond to drink from.

	By chance, I came across the remains of the deer the dogs had
chased so far the day before. It lay several paces from the stream but
in the soft ground I could read the story of the hunt. Two sets of
dogs footprints and the deer's hoofmarks lay widely spread, running
straight on course. Across the stream I could see the larger prints
where the wolf had come to drink. He had crossed the stream and waited
behind a bush for some time since I could see several footprints
pointing in the same direction as if he had shifted his weight
impatiently and a less defined indentation where he had crouched down
in the final moments. The ground around the deer was too fouled up
with tracks to distinguish what exactly had happened but the answer
was clear. The deer had had its organs and flanks chewed but the head
and neck were almost untouched. I could see the single set of bite
marks and the gaping hole in the deer's throat where the wolf had torn
it through at the end of his leap in a single motion. Ants and
scavengers and carrion beetles and blowfly maggots had begun the
cleanup work so I did not feel too much like having a breakfast of
venison tartar. At that moment I felt immeasurably grateful to the
wolf's chivalric sensibilities that had kept him from going through
the dogs to get to me. The thought rendered the cold washing I had
contemplated in the stream completely unnecessary.

	I crossed over and knelt down at the bank of the stream where
the wolf had drank. Some of those new born memories, or as Yeats put
it `a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi' came to mind and it was as if
I could feel the forest change around me, welcome me, and open for me
like a long awaited lover. I looked down into the stream and saw the
reflection of a wolf in the water staring back at me. It was a moment
I was not yet strong enough to hold and my perceptions dulled again.

	As I walked back I became curious about the way space seemed
to have changed but soon realized that it was not space that was
different. I knew where I was. I had felt at home in the forest before
but this was new. I knew exactly where each tree and stream was in the
forest and where I was situated, I even knew the parts where I had
never been. Imagine yourself in your own room, each object and book
and stick of furniture are part of your perceptions. You know for
instance, without needing to see it again of the big scratch on the
front of the third drawer of your dresser, of the two shirts you let
slip off hangers when you dressed this morning that now still lie on
your closet floor. I knew where I was in this way exactly in a hundred
square miles of old growth forest and it made me more than a little
afraid.

	I took the shortest path back to the den. Blackie and Darkling
and the wolf had ceased to be aware of me. They knew I was there but
they had lost the attentive awareness that I had not even noticed was
focused from dog to human. Wolf or dog, playing or eating or
defecating or even sleeping, there is a degree of concentration
reserved from their own activities that is instead centred on the
human presence. I had not noticed it before but in its sudden and
remarkable absence I understood it fully. They no longer thought of me
as other, I was now same. I looked down, almost expecting to see paws
and fur but I was still ape shaped and hairless. I knew why but
refused to believe that those visions had changed me, stemming from
the collective unconscious or +Gaia or the balance of life forces or
God or any other mystical nexus that breathes within creation, they
were a force unto themselves and I had been placed on the path of
transcendence, like it or lump it.

	I spoke, hoping it would break the spell, give me time to
prepare to be what I had become. "Well, don't all jump up at once and
fawn over me or anything!" No heads turned, I might have been
scratching fleas for all the interest I generated.

	The two lovers lay curled like the light and dark in the
taoist symbol of the embodiment of Yin and Yang. Seeing them again
brought back a heat that burned more mercilessly for having been
forgotten. I approached them, fearless through abandon rather than
mere courage. I ripped my clothing off my body. I arrived in four
steps and the wolf stood and bristled. I dropped to all fours and
assumed the same posture, made the same sounds.

	Strangely the wolf relaxed as if I had passed a test he had to
administer. He did not back away but remained still as I approached.
I understood our strange relationship for the first time, not pack as
wolves know it or partnership as humans know it but something in
between. He was an alpha male and did not give ground but he would
give some deference to his mate, Darkling. He did not defer to me at
all but expected no submission from me either. Darkling was only
honestly submissive to Blackie, her mother. Darkling was my lover and
I had never been her master, only her friend. Blackie was conservative
and respected both me and the wolf. The wolf was my instructor, I knew
no other word that fit. The circle and cycle of interrelationships was
complete, changing only as the demands of tasks and activities changed
and demanded different skills. I knew this in an instant, sans speech
and symbol.

	Darkling was my lover. As soon as I had become comfortable
with my new awareness, shocking as it was, she came to me. I felt hot,
fevered, excited, and uncontrolled. Part of me realized I was feeling
the imperative agony of the need to mate, in the way of a rutting
beast, then there was no room within me for other thoughts, there was
only being. She quickly positioned herself in front of me and I
entered her without the cautious fumbling of our first time but
clumsily in unbearable haste. She was more than willing, her flesh was
sweet to touch and I felt her around me, fire, electric silk, blood
heat and delicious pressure.

	Form and mind were pushed aside. I existed only in the long
moments of mutual pleasure, thrusting, sliding. Thighs on furry flanks
and pounding of hearts and fleshy impacts. Both of us were making the
same sounds, moaning and whining, panting, sighing releases of air
held in lungs that forgot to breath. I felt as if my body were being
pumped entirely into Darkling and I came. At that moment I thought I
felt the touch of rougher fur but when I began to notice the rest of
the world again, the wolf was standing beside Blackie, watching as I
had watched before.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
From: an73305@anon.penet.fi (Brother Wolf)
Date: Sat, 26 Mar 1994 04:13:08 UTC
Subject: Visions Of Passion Part 6

			 Visions of Passion
			       Part Two
				 Wolf
			    Chapter Three

	I lay entangled with Darkling. The warm August sun seemed to
stand still in the hazy blue sky, its gentle illumination outlining
Darkling's lean curves, and heating her black fur to an uncomfortable
warmth. I could hear her panting getting raspier as she tried to cope
with the increasing temperature. I wanted to lie against her forever,
feeling her tail tickling my hip as she shifted it. Her fur was
plastered to my body by the sheen of sweat I had worked up making love
to her. I ran my hand on her chest, feeling the sharp breast bone and
scratching the sensitive hard to reach places beneath her front legs.
The bittersweet smell of her fur lingered, mixed with the sharp scent
of my fluids and the earthy smells of hers. The crushed grass beneath
us was cleanly sweet smelling and the air carried the rich mysterious
scents from the forest, of cleanly rotting leaves and the deep black
humus that held the water and the insect life that contributed to
feeding back to the forest all the life that sprang from it.

	I could not resist its beckoning and stood up, to Darkling's
obvious relief since her panting subsided slightly. I began to walk
beneath the boughs, feeling the carpet of detritus soft beneath my
feet. Occasionally I would feel the sting of some sharp object but in
the intoxication of my senses I had no room for other concerns.
Darkling, Blackie, and the wolf followed me to enjoy the shelter from
the days warmth. On entering the forest it seemed as if the wolf had
cast off his solidity to become a creature of light and shadow. His
automatic use of the natural cover and his flowing silent motions made
him seem to disappear and reappear wraithlike.

	I began to watch him carefully. The dogs had few distinct
motions, walk slow, walk fast, walk with small steps in an aggressive
confrontation, trot, run, leap, and turn. They moved from place to
place in the manner that suited the speed with which they wanted to
arrive. The wolf was another creature entirely. He moved his body in
its entirety. He ducked down as he walked to edge around a bush out of
sight, he swayed his motions so the faint noise of his footfalls was
covered by the bursts of wind, he tasted and felt the air at every
moment, aware not just of smells but of air currants and changes in
the wind. He was delicate for his size, combining motion and
stillness to be a shadow amongst the shadows, or a wind among the
branches. I am not prone to desire those of my own sex but his natural
grace was deeply arousing and I wondered at Darkling's experiences
with him. He had a power that a part of me wanted to surrender to. I
knew though that I would be no fit channel to the forces within myself
if I were to worship what I was to be learning from. The wolf needed
an equal, not a servant, for servitude precluded the mastery of the
skills I had to gain. I knew that, even if I did not yet know what it
was I was supposed to learn.

	The wolf circled around to face me, as if he sensed my
thoughts. He came quite close, then stretched out his front legs
straight in front of him and lowered his chest in the `I am going to
jump up on you' position I knew from the games Darkling and I had
played. When she and I played I could see the amusement and enjoyment
in her eyes at playing the fierce attacker. The wolf's expression was
entirely unreadable, and he held his body motionless so I could not
gage anything about his intent. I began to get nervous and began to
back away. He leaped and before I knew he had sprung I was on the
ground with a hundred forty pound wolf on my chest and the wind
knocked out of me.

	I remembered to breathe out before I tried to breathe in, the
only remedy for that type of breathlessness, and recovered quite
quickly. I could feel two deep scratches on my chest beginning to
sting and trickle blood. I was feeling very afraid at that moment. At
last he relaxed and let me up, still silently watching me. I was
bruised and the two scratches he put on me were beginning to hurt. I
turned to leave, get my clothes and go home.

	Again, the wolf was in front of me, crouched down. This time
he sprang at me very quickly, hardly waiting. My nerves were so on
edge I managed to turn and avoid most of his hurtling body but he
clipped me and sent me spinning. This time he rolled, recovered and
raised his tail and gave a sort of abbreviated bark.

	He crouched in front of me a third time and I was prepared for
his next attack and ducked and rolled as soon as I saw him tensing his
back legs. He missed me entirely and we both ended up facing one
another as soon as we regained balance. This time his tail gave a
quick wag and I could see the same enjoyment in his expression that
Darkling had when we played this game. I thought about my scratches
and bruises and realized that this was much more than a game. How
could a ninety pound thirteen year old boy hold his own in any contest
with a wolf? I knew then that that particular answer was something I
was going to be taught, step by painful step. The wolf didn't want to
kill me or even hurt me but he had to make the price of failure high
enough to drive me to learn. I thought about the Zen teachers who gave
their students unanswerable questions to focus their awareness to
learn something that could not be passed on through language alone.
There too the price of failure was a beating.

	The wolf had left me to my thoughts while I pondered the
situation. When I had drawn my conclusions I looked back at him and he
relaxed, satisfied that we had begun. As soon as he turned his head
away I flung myself onto him. Suddenly he just wasn't there and I
landed in a belly-flop on the forest floor. He was standing calmly
just out of reach and as he turned away he kicked back a sprinkling of
dirt with his back feet in the universal canine gesture of contempt. I
saw very clearly his jaws open wide, his tongue lolling out and the
slightly narrowed eyes and I knew he was laughing at me. He gave that
quiet high pitched auuu sound that sometimes comes from a yawning dog
and sometimes substitutes for our loud and raucous guffaws. While I
walked back to get my clothes I noticed that both Blackie and Darkling
were pointedly looking in other directions than where I was so I
couldn't see the expressions they were wearing but I could guess!

	The day was half over and I had a long walk before I got home.
If I was lucky I would get there in time for dinner. All three of them
walked with me for the first five miles. A distant observer might have
thought it was a boy and three large dogs. They might have noticed the
way the biggest one faded into obscurity at times, or the way the
three moved with their own rhythms independent of the boy's. They
probably wouldn't have understood the significance of those things if
they did.

	At the half way point the wolf parted company. He touched his
nose to Darkling's and flicked the end of his tongue to touch her face
and turned around and disappeared among the trees. Darkling looked to
the spot he vanished and turned away to get on with her job of seeing
me home. When we arrived she took a small drink of water and ate some
food and headed back out. Blackie stayed with me, content in the
knowledge that there was nothing a mother could do for Darkling that
her wolfen mate could not do better. I knew how she felt, I was
wondering about the same sort of thing but for reasons of my own.

	I opened the top of the rain barrel that collected water from
the eves of the barn. I stripped off my soiled shirt and washed off
the wolf made wounds. They had stopped bleeding long before. The cool
water stung as it ran pinkly down the scratches and soaked into the
thirsty ground. The shirt was not going to disappear so easily. There
were several small blood stains on the front. I put it back on and
went into the house.

	Predictably, Mom made a fuss over me but I just explained that
I had been dog wrestling and had been hit by an unexpected leap. I
showed her the scratches and she calmed down. Farm life inures you
somewhat to injuries. Since the nearest doctor is miles away, you do a
lot of things for yourself. Experience had taught us all about real
emergencies so we didn't get too excited about the small stuff.

	The dog wrestling was the truth, even if I let her think that
I was wrestling Darkling. We often played attack and chase games with
such frenzy that passers by had rushed in to lend me assistance
against the `mad dog' on a few occasions.

	I went to my room for a quick change of clothing. The smell of
dinner pervaded the house and was driving me crazy. I began to
salivate and thought of Pavlov's dog. The odour of roasting chicken
lay heavy and rich on the air. Dad had just entered the house when I
was finished changing. I helped lay out the plates and cutlery while
Mom filled the serving dishes. I dug in with an appetite that seemed
to come form my whole body and finished off three heaping platefuls of
roast chicken, rice stuffing, dumplings, fresh carrots and corn on the
cob.

	Dad asked me where Darkling was. I told him that Darkling had
found a mate and the two were roaming the forest together. When he
asked what breed the other dog was I told him a little about the wolf.
I told him of Darkling's protectiveness towards me and the wolf's
eventual acceptance. Dad listened to me in silence, a slight smile
lifted the corners of his mouth and at last he shook his head and
looked at Mom.

	"You're just like your uncle Edward, he had the gift too." he
said "When Edward was four, the whole family were out visiting your
great aunt Martha. The whole bunch of us were tired after the
travelling and all the kids each wandered around the farm. Edward was
supposed to have Susan looking after him but he snuck off when she
wasn't looking. All of us kids were searching around but we couldn't
find him so we called in the adults. Aunt Martha said she hoped he
hadn't wandered into the enclosure where the geese were. The goslings
had just hatched and there was a big female goose in there that didn't
like people in the best of circumstances and was now positively
dangerous. We kids started laughing at that, of course, the thought of
a dangerous bird just didn't terrify us. Aunt Martha told us that an
angry goose has been known to break bones when it attacked with its
wings.

	We figured then that since there was trouble, Edward would be
in the middle of it and hurried to the enclosure. Aunt Martha opened
the gate and went to check inside the coop. Sure enough, there was
Edward, sitting on the floor, goslings climbing onto him and jumping
off like he was an amusement ride. The big goose was cuddled up to him
and had her head resting on his shoulder while he stroked her neck. He
looked up at aunt Martha and said `Nice birdy.' Till the day he died
in that tractor accident, Edward was always the same. Squirrels and
birds and raccoons used to come up to take food from his hand and he
always knew which ones would let him pet them a little and which ones
were too shy. There was always a few animals on the mend that he took
care of and lots of baby animals that people would bring to him when
they were found.

	Speaking of care and baby animals, you know that wolves breed
in late winter so the cubs will be born in the spring, grow in the
fall and summer, and travel in the winter, when food is scarce and
they have to keep moving. I'm not one to sneer at romance but the wolf
will want to be travelling and Darkling will want to be staying put if
she gets bred, then what's going to happen?"

	"I didn't think that far ahead," I said "I knew the wolf has a
den and I thought he'd stay there all the time. I suppose when winter
comes, I can help out by bringing food up to them. That way the wolf
might stay put."

	I thought about hiking those miles with a bag of food on my
back and realized what I was getting myself into. I dug out my old
backpack, my tent, my sleeping bag, and the old Coleman lantern dad
had given me the first time I ever camped out for a full night by
myself. I figured I'd probably be bringing up a bag of food every week
or so. I'd set up a permanent camp up there, placing the tent in a
lean-to which I'd cover with more brush to help keep out the wind.
With the sleeping bag and the Coleman lantern burning, the tent would
be warm enough. I'd have to be careful about fumes but it could be
done. I'd have to build a fire each time so I needed to collect and
protect some dry wood, and make a sheltered place to have the fire,
bring a couple of pots, and some staples like oatmeal, coffee,
powdered milk...

	"I guess you're planning to make it a long term project. I can
see the wheels turning and smell the wood burning. I wouldn't think of
talking you out of it, even if I could. The last time I was able to
talk you out of anything, you were six years old, and even then I had
to resort to a degree of dissimulation" Dad said.

	After dinner, we all sat sipping tea and eating Mom's sugar
cookies. I kept nodding off so I excused myself and went to my room
and fell on my bed.

	I didn't wake up until noon the next day. I began to collect
the things I'd need. A tent and sleeping bag, hatchet, and some dry
foods and a pot and tin cup formed my first load. I also brought a
small amount of kibble to show the wolf what I had to offer him.
Blackie joined me as I left.

	I set off down the path. Now that I knew where I was going I
travelled at a much faster pace. My instincts sharpened as I entered
the forest and I got that feeling of knowing more about the woods
around me than my five senses had to show me. This time I gave the
feelings their reigns and let them run. I soon went off the path and
through some prickly ash. I was considering ignoring my feelings and
striking back to the path when I came upon a clearing. It was part of
a chain of clearings separated by thin walls of brush. I proceeded in
a straight course, rather than the lazy meanderings of the trail I had
taken before. There were fewer impediments to my progress in this new
trail and I covered the distance much more quickly than I expected to.
I was out of the clearing and fighting through brush again before
without realizing where I was. When I cleared the brush, I was at the
stream. I could smell a faint stench of rotten flesh and I followed it
until I came to the carcass of the deer. Scavengers, successive meals
by the wolf and Darkling, and the busy insects had reduced the dead
deer to a few bones and strips of skin and flesh. Blackie lapped at
the water and bounded off towards the den.

	I moved upstream and upwind of the deer and took my cup from
my pack. I dipped it into the cold water and drank it down in a single
gulp. It tasted so clean and fresh that it awoke my feelings of thirst
which I had been ignoring while I was hiking. I leaned slipped my arms
out of the pack and set it beside me. I drank cup after cup of water,
leaning over the stream.

	Suddenly I found myself in the stream. The cold snapped my
senses into total awareness. I saw the wolf, sitting on the bank of
the stream grinning at me. I rose to my feet and posed myself as if I
were going to leap at him. He tensed slightly, waiting for me to move
but instead I flopped into the water and made the largest splash I
could. The wolf wasn't expecting this and got quite wet. He leaped at
me and we tussled in the stream. He wasn't using his full strength so
he made it an even contest. By the time we were done we were both
soaking wet. I looked at him and began to laugh and he opened his
mouth and narrowed his eyes happily as he looked at me.

	I carefully picked up my pack and we started back towards the
den. Darkling emerged from the bushes where she had been waiting so
she wouldn't spoil the wolf's surprise attack and trotted along with
us. When we reached the den, I unrolled the tent and sleeping bag to
let them dry after the splashing. I laid my clothes out on some warm
rocks and walked around to find a sheltered spot to build a lean-to.
Blackie was already there, lying down. She thumped her tail a few
times and went back to sleep in the shady spot where she had dug an
indentation in the ground.

	Close by, I found two huge pines growing close together. The
ground underneath them was bare of other growth and covered in a thick
blanket of brown pine needles. I went over the entire area, stepping
at every spot so I could find and remove any rocks and branches that
would cause me discomfort later. This done, I returned and got the
hatchet and cut off the few branches that grew on the lowest five feet
of the trunks.

	Outside of the circle of the branches of the pines grew
several cedar trees. The warm cedar smell and the cool pine smell
blended sweetly. Since the pines and the cedar didn't lose their
foliage, the tent would be invisible even in winter. If I was careful
about sparks and removed the dead branches from the lower parts of the
cedars I would even have the space for my small fireplace. My wood
could be stored on the side of the pines opposite my tent. With a
little work, I could fortify the natural shelter with an interweaving
of other branches and a few vertical posts of wood and it would still
seem like a natural enclosure.

	While I was planning, the mosquitoes took advantage of my
presence and began to dine on me. They are always bad in calm shady
areas. I had mosquito netting on my tent but for the present they were
unbearable. I went back into the clearing by the den and unpacked my
knapsack. The limestone outcrop that held the cave had many other
weathered indentations. I chose one on the south side that was big
enough to hold an opened bag of dog food so that the food I brought
wouldn't be buried by drifting snow. All I'd need to do was open a big
hole in the bag and the wolf and Darkling and Blackie could all help
themselves.

	I dumped the dog food I had into the hole and took a few bits
with me. I approached the wolf with the food in my palm held out in
front of me. He came up to me and took the pieces of kibble. He chewed
for a second and grimaced. He dropped the food and rubbed his tongue
against his top teeth to get the crumbs out of his mouth. He looked at
me accusingly.

	"I guess it's an acquired taste," I answered. Darkling chose
that moment to go over to the indentation and begin eating the kibble.
The wolf went over to see what she was up to and when he saw her
eating he looked disgusted with us both but at least he realized I
wasn't playing a joke on him.

	Until I could put my clothes back on, I couldn't do much in
the way of setting up tent or collecting wood. I wandered around
looking for large flat stones I could pile up to build a spot to make
a fire. There were several pieces split off from the limestone
outcropping and I collected these together near the grove I was going
to call home.

	The warmth of the sun and the fatigue from my long hike
combined to make me drowsy. I dropped down in the long grass and
stretched out. I knew that if I fell asleep, I'd wake up looking and
feeling like a boiled lobster. I nodded off in the middle of my
resolution not to fall asleep.

	I was awakened by a strange tickling sensation shortly
thereafter. I didn't know the time but I did know I wasn't blistered
so that meant I had been lying here for less than ninety minutes.
Darkling was licking my whole body. She'd lick a patch of elbow here,
a shoulder there, a neck, a thigh and continued moving to different
spots. I realized she liked the layer of salt I had accumulated from
my exertion during the hike.

	I quickly closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was asleep but
I couldn't fool her. She moved immediately to my stomach and inner
thighs and kept circling in but not touching the flesh of my penis.
She was driving me crazy and she knew it!

	Unable to resist, I pulled her down to me and began to kiss
her mouth. Again, out tongues explored each others mouth and the
feeling of her sharp teeth made me wild. I eased her gently to the
ground and began to do to her what she had done to me. I didn't stop
when I came to the mound of her vagina. I kissed her there and worked
gently with my tongue until she began to make involuntary humping
motions. She had not been idle and her tongue had brought me to the
peak of excitement.

	She stood up and posed in front of me. I raised myself to my
knees and entered her slowly and carefully. She bore back down on me
and I felt the soft warm sensation as I was enclosed by her flesh. We
pressed to one another as tightly as we could. We rocked back and
forth without separating. Her body taughtened in an orgasm and
released her fluids. I felt them wash over me as I came inside her.

	We lay down again, locked together though we could have
separated, had we chosen to. I heard more panting as our breathing
calmed down. We looked over to see the wolf mounted on Blackie.
Darkling and I watched with interest as the two made love. I hadn't
noticed that Blackie was in heat but then again, I hadn't examined her
as intimately as I had Darkling. When they had finished most of their
intercourse and were standing quietly locked together I spoke to the
wolf.

	"You dog!" I said, "What's all this about wolf monogamy then?"

	He lowered his head slightly in the form of a shrug and looked
pointedly at Darkling and myself, as if to point out that nothing with
us four was normal. I nodded in agreement, Darkling warm against me,
and felt at peace with the world.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
From: an73305@anon.penet.fi (Brother Wolf)
Date: Sat, 16 Apr 1994 11:39:20 UTC
Subject: Visions

			  Visions of Passion
			       Part Two
				Wolf
			     Chapter Four

	Lying there with Darkling, I felt the rose tinted warmth of
afterglow fade into the deep violet of love. I had changed so much in
the last few weeks and I knew it was my feelings for her, and hers for
me that had thrown open the gateway. Where my path would lead, I
didn't know. I looked into her dark brown eyes and saw there her own
vision of me. There I beheld the sweet eternal mystery of lovers. I
saw my love for her as a reflection of her love for me, but as I
stared, as I looked into her soul, I saw her humility before the
sweeping force of my love, just as I stood humbled before her own
profound emotions.

	I pressed her close to me, overcome by the tidal forces of our
emotions and our passions. I ran my fingers through her fur and kissed
her gently, her whiskers tickling me lightly. She opened her mouth to
me and I caressed her tongue with mine, feeling the beautiful
smoothness of her fangs. The sun was warm and relaxing as I pressed my
naked body to her. Each tiny motion we made stroked my whole body with
the thick softness of her fur. Each moment was a sensuous island out
of time.

	I was startled out of my revere by a cold shock on the back of
my neck. The wolf touched me with his nose and sat back grinning. He
leaned over and began licking Darkling's face until she sat up too. I
saw that my skin was giving off the warning heat that it has before a
severe sun burn begins to take effect. I quickly went over and changed
into my now dry clothes. I felt alternatively too hot and as if my
skin had been plunged into cold water by turns. The reddening of my
skin was proceeding at an observable pace. Small blisters were forming
and even the slightest motion was fraught with discomfort.

	I made my way slowly back to the stream and set my clothes
aside. I climbed into the water at a spot screened from the sun by an
overhanging branch. I wouldn't have been surprised to see the water
boil as I sank beneath the surface. I lay back immersed in the water
and felt the pain subside. Almost immediately I began to shiver
uncontrollably as my body's internal thermostat went crazy from the
conflicting impressions of burning and cooling.

	After a time my skin was numbed by the water. My shivering
stopped as my body sorted out its sensations. I stayed in the stream
as long as I could stand it. When I emerged, the cooling had done its
work and my burn was arrested at a painful stage instead of proceeding
to an agonizing one. I dressed to protect my skin and walked back to
the den.

	My tent and sleeping bag were dry by this time. I took my
equipment back to the shelter I had started. I pegged down the ground
sheet and set up the tent. I tied the fly sheet securely to the trees
and threw my backpack and sleeping bag inside. I gathered up the flat
stones I had collected earlier and carefully set them in up to make an
enclosed place to for my fire. I saved a large flat rock to cover my
fireplace to keep out snow and rain during the long periods when it
would be disused and I used a large single rock to form one side so I
could roll it away and have easy access to the fire pit to clean out
the ashes.

	The sun was below the trees by the time I finished setting up.
My body was almost ready to drop from the strain of the burn and the
exertion but it was too hot to sleep and I felt I had to keep moving.
I took the lantern from my pack and filled it with fuel. I took the
large can away and set it near the stream when I had finished to help
reduce the fire hazard.

	I went up to the wolf's den and stopped at the entrance,
indicating I wanted to enter. The wolf looked at me without bristling
so I knew it was OK. I lit the lantern with a waterproof strike
anywhere type match. At the small pop and the hissing noise and sudden
flame the wolf became all alertness. I set down the lantern and waited
for him to come over and investigate. He did so, taking his cue from
my own lack of fear and indulged his curiosity about this small tame
flame. After a few moments he relaxed again, hardly seeming like a
creature who has conquered one of his primeval fears, so completely
did he adjust.

	I thrust the lantern in the mouth of the den ahead of me.
Inside I could see that there was an enormous amount of space. I went
through the opening and stepped inside. The den was formed by a
combination of natural cave and some digging. I could see the roots of
trees lining some areas that had been cleared of earth. I smelled the
rich earth and a heady animal scent that called to me in some way I
did not understand.

	The floor was covered in dried brush, forming a sort of nest.
At the back of the cave was a large pile of stones. I squeezed around
them and saw a small pool of water, fed by a tiny stream that
disappeared into a hole in the stone floor. The roof above the pile of
stone was badly cracked and looked insecure but the rest of the den
was solid with stone or root enforced packed earth. I stood well back
and bombarded the flawed ceiling with pieces of rock until the cracked
stone came thundering down. With that sound, I heard a cry like a howl
of pain from outside and the wolf came running in. He knocked me off
my feet and began to try and drag me from the cave. I followed and he
began to lick my face and I saw he was shivering. "I'm OK", I told him
over and over, "I'm OK."

	The twilight had come and at length the wolf relinquished his
control of me and I returned to the cave. Beneath the flawed stone was
another layer of solid rock with no further danger of a cave in. I
began to clear the large pile of old rock and new rock. I carried the
broken stone outside, feeling like an ant in my repetitious labours.
I was clearing out the last layer when I saw something that was not
stone. I carefully sorted through the rubble and began to pull out
bones. At length I found a wolf's skull and intermixed with the shards
of a rib cage several small curled forms that I imagined were foetal
wolves.

	I pulled off my shirt and used it to carry the skeleton of the
wolf's mate and unborn cubs and brought them out to him. He sniffed
once and let out a soft whimper and I hugged him to me and we rocked
back and forth, quietly in the gathering gloom. I cleared the rest of
the rubble and carried the bones to a small hill nearby and set them
under a large maple tree. I carried rocks for hours until I had built
a small barrow for the victims of the previous cave in. The wolf
followed me each trip, back and forth. When I was finished we sat on
the hill with Darkling and Blackie.

	The wolf howled then, the most mournful and beautiful sound I
had ever heard, as if he was singing to the spirit of his mate. He
stopped after a while and looked at me expectantly. I tried to howl
but made a mess of it. Patiently, he continued to instruct me and when
the moon rose we were howling together, not just about mourning, but
about the beauty of living. Somehow that night, all our ghosts were
laid to rest, mine, Darkling's, and the wolf's. When the moon set that
same night we had found peace again.

	Exhaustion helped me sleep despite my discomfort and I awoke
feeling much better. I ate some dried fruit and made a fire to boil
some water for my morning coffee. The wolf was an old hand at dealing
with fire by now and he and the two dogs sat and watched me boil water
from the stream and dump coffee into the pot. When I was done, I
filled my cup and added plenty of sugar and set it beside me to cool.
I was staring into the fire, hypnotized by the play of flames when I
heard a lapping sound. I looked down and saw that the wolf had
finished most of my cup of coffee. I quickly grabbed a bowl and filled
it with more coffee and sugared it and set it down for him and he set
to with gusto. I finished what was left of my cup and poured myself
another and we sat and had coffee together, the wolf and I. It became
our morning ritual from that day on.

	Before too long the coffee had had its effect on the wolf and
he spent the next forty-five minutes running from place to place
without remaining still for an instant. I returned to the den and
cleared out the old brush. I went looking for some sandy earth to use
as an insulating layer on the cold stone floor. I smoothed the earth
over the roughest parts of the stone with a collapsible shovel that
was part of my camping equipment.

	The next thing I did was gather dry bull-rushes that grew
along the stream to and covered the floor to a depth of about a foot.
I lay down and rolled around on the rushes, they were a softer cushion
than my sleeping bag had been. Considering that the wolf had running
water, he had more luxuries than I did. Darkling came in when I
finished. I turned off the lantern and the darkness closed around us.

	My sunburn was still a distraction but there in the dark,
smelling the heady aroma of the burrow, Darkling loving and willing, I
let my primitive drives take over and we began to make love. I felt
the rightness of the situation, Darkling's mating urges blending with
the proprietary emotions of my helping make this territory for her.
She was my mate too. I needed her and loved her then without
reservation.

	My clothing was shed into some unknown location in the
darkness. I found my lover unerringly without the need for sight. I
buried my face in her fur and drank the rich musky odour of her
excitement. I tasted her mouth and the small mound of her sex. Her
silken fur electrified my skin. Her firm curved body pressed tightly
against me. She used her tongue in long slow strokes on my stomach
and thighs.

	She stood up in front of me and I entered her smoothly and
easily, her body lubricating the passage of my thrusts. With each
motion I felt the pressure building. She sat back down on me as I came
inside her, filling her, feeling her body clench as she experienced a
lingering orgasm.

	We lay in the darkness, silently, our hearts beating in the
same rhythm, our breathing calming after our passions had spent
themselves.

	I dressed again and went out into the light of day, blinking
at its harshness. I remembered the lantern and turned to go back into
the den. As I was crawling into the entrance I heard the sound of a
gun- shot sounding close by. I panicked, sure that someone was
shooting at the wolf. In my frantic haste I straightened up too soon
and too quickly and everything became dark and faded away.

	There was snow around the clearing with the first signs of
greenery showing through but nothing was green, not even the tall
pines and the hardy cedar. I looked up at the sky and it was grey
though there were no clouds. I could smell the deer faintly, where
they had returned to feed on the first spring growth. I could smell
the strong familiar scent of my mate. I felt such joy at the thought
but I didn't know why. I wanted to turned around to be with her, feel
her near. She was in the back of the den, drinking water from the
little spring. Her graceful lines were rounded by the new life inside
her that would come into the world any day soon. I ran towards her,
filled with dread for some unknown reason and I heard the sound. There
was a roar and a crash and there was a pile of stone where my mate had
been and I went over and I could smell nothing but the rock dust. I
dug until my paws were bleeding scraps of flesh and I saw her leg. I
took it in my teeth and pulled frantically, it was cold and stiff but
I couldn't believe she was dead. The leg came off, the joint crushed
by the rock to a pulp.

	I lay down beside the rocks and waited, not drinking, no
longer hungry, only empty and colder than any living thing had ever
been. I could barely see now, barely smell, couldn't feel the hunger
anymore, couldn't move. The darkness was taking me away too when I saw
her. I could smell my mate, I could see her, pale and white, beside
me. She had a rabbit, fresh killed and she gave it to me to eat and I
ate, happy we were together again. I could see again, could move, and
I tasted the rabbit on my tongue but my mate was gone, still gone, but
she wanted me to live. I knew she had killed the rabbit for me so I
could go on.

	I awoke with a splitting headache and those maddening false
memories. The wolf was there, safe and whole. He looked at me now and
I could feel what he was thinking in some arcane way. He was happy
that I awoke, he had seen another wolf struck by the hoof a moose that
slept for days before he died. As my disorientation faded, so did our
strange channel of communication. He was the wolf again, the silent
enigma.

	I got up and kept moving, gathering light pieces of wood for
my winter supply. I made a mental note of larger deadfalls and set to
work. I also circled my tent and firepit to see how good the
camouflage was. I added some branches here and there, and used some
twine to tie living branches to the shapes I needed them to be. I
found a tree some distance from the camp and tied my dried food
supplies up out of reach of hungry animals. After several hours I
decided I wasn't going to suffer any aftereffects of my concussion and
started to take it easy.

	I relit the fire, and boiled up some water for tea and made a
voyageurs stew with flour, dried peas, salt, dried pork, and lots of
black pepper. The wood smoke and smell of the cooking food had my
stomach growling, masking my other discomforts. After a few hours the
stew was ready and I dug in. I thought at first that I had made too
much but I finished everything. The evening came as I was dining and
in the last of the light I scoured my dishes with sand and took them
down to the stream to wash them out.

	I sat around the dying fire and watched the darkness claim the
forest. The last faint wisps of smoke were puffing up from the coals
when I turned in. I rolled myself in my sleeping bag and let the
crickets and frogs and night birds make their horrible racket without
concern. I was overtaken by slumber as I lay down.

	The next day it drizzled rain. I trudged home with my empty
backpack to get more supplies that I wanted to lay in for the winter.
I took a large green tarpaulin to cover my woodpile, more rice, dried
corn, beans, dried peas, and a whole lot more coffee since I had to
satisfy a lupine caffeine addict as well as myself. I stayed to help
with some of the harvesting and decided to enjoy a night in a warm
bed.

	When I returned to the den I brought a full sized axe, a heavy
hammer, and some splitting wedges for the promising looking deadfalls.
It took me a full day for each log I split and chopped up. After I had
two cords of wood I decided that I was done. Most of a week had passed
and it was getting close to harvest time. I hadn't noticed since I had
been busy exhausting myself each day to get done in time, but Darkling
was uninterested in intimacy. It struck home to me one day when I saw
the wolf rubbing against her and heard her snarl. I realized her
season had passed, so did the wolf. He was just as loving as before to
her but no longer tried to entice her into loveplay.

	When I got back home I helped with harvesting, haying, and
cutting wood, canning, slaughtering, and preparing for the winter. My
parents always let me grow my own separate garden so I could show and
sell some produce at the fall county fair. This year was no exception
and I won two blue ribbons and sold everything I brought. I had more
than enough to get the food I needed for Darkling and Blackie and the
wolf. I saved the rest, as my father put it, to show I believed in my
future.

	School started, I turned fourteen, and my life took on a very
structured pace as I balanced my human and my pack life.

	Darkling's disinterest in making love left both the wolf and
myself with a lot more time and energy that needed burning off.
Lugging those heavy bags all those miles through the woods was making
me pretty enduring. The wolf continued to teach me the arts of battle.
I learned to anticipate his movements and, more importantly, to use
his own weight and force of motion against him. More and more we were
coming to enjoy our contests and we were able to keep at it for hours
at a time. Finally, I joined the wolf on a hunt, something I had never
done.

	He was able to show me that he wanted me to stay in place and
wait. I did so, not knowing what was happening. After several minutes
I heard him crashing through the bushes a t a flat out pace. I peeked
out to see what was going on and the rabbit he was chasing saw me and
veered off in another direction. The wolf stopped and snarled nastily
at me. I resumed my place and he set off for new quarry. I waited,
hearing listening for the sounds of both the wolf and his prey. At the
last moment I leaped out and landed on another unlucky rabbit. My leap
had already broken the creatures neck and the wolf seemed proud of me.
I don't think he knew the kill was accidental.

	As the winter wore on he showed me how to track in the snow
until I was able to read the smallest sign. We played running games
that taught me how to herd prey towards the place he would lie in
wait. I might be able to do a rabbit but neither of us was foolish
enough to think I could bring down a deer, yet, but I could chase one
towards him. The two dogs got heavier and heavier so he really did
need me to help hunt but even so, I felt honoured to be a part of this
pack. The food I carried to them was sustaining but bland and
tasteless fare to my wild companion.

	Two months after the end of August, when Darkling refused the
wolf both she, and a few days later Blackie gave birth to the hybrid
cubs. Darkling's cubs were coal black and Blackie's cubs were a deep
grey. They each had four cubs, for a total of five females and three
males. When they were born, I made a large pot of coffee and the wolf
and I drank the whole thing together. I felt that our cubs were the
most beautiful things I had seen in this world, our den the most
beautiful home. I was never happier than at that moment, our pack, our
family was complete.

	I watched the cubs sporadic growth, so amazing to me because
of the intervening week between the times I could see them. One
weekend they were helpless, blind mewling things, the next they were
tender soft eyed wonders. The week after they were clumsy clownish
explorers, their mothers' bane. The next they were barking and
growling when I came into the den. The week after and their Darkling
and Blackie were beginning to push them away when they fed. The week
after that, it seemed milk was just a memory as their mothers chewed
the meat the wolf and I brought and they ate the softened food. By
Christmas, the pack was all there to greet me a full mile before the
den.

	I realized that the cubs were not quite normal. Their heads
and paws seemed huge when they were puppies and even at their fast
paced growth they didn't seem to grow into them. By March, they were
as big as the wolf and still growing. It was a good thing the game was
coming back, I had changed from ten pound bags of food to twenty-five
pound bags and I was getting frantic.

	Seeing those fine strong young creatures, brave, intelligent,
inquisitive, and beautiful we all shared in the joy of their living,
but none so much as Blackie. She had been a mother before and loved to
love them, these were the happiest days of her life. If the cubs were
scared or startled they ran to her, if they were too mischievous, it
was she they were scolded by. She lived in a glowing matronly
happiness.

	By the end of March, Blackie began to cough constantly. I
bought anti-biotics, and anything I could get the vet to suggest.
Nothing seemed to work and one day when the sun was shining on the
last of the remaining snow we saw her look back at us, leave the den,
and reprimand the cubs for following her. She found her place and
chose her time and we never saw her again. That was the day the wolf
and I taught the cubs to howl.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
From: jjwolfe@freenet.scri.fsu.edu (John Wolfe)
Subject: Visions Part 8
Date: 13 Jul 1994 15:12:15 -0500

			  Visions Of Passion
			       Part Two
				 Wolf
			     Chapter Five

	The predawn air began to infuse me with the energy of the new
day before the mantle of darkness had changed noticeably. The sure
knowledge of Blackie's death no longer lay coldly inside of me. It had
become the pain of losing a friend and I could go on from there to
hurt and heal and remember. Sometime during that long night of
alternating howls and silence I had understood Blackie's final
thoughts.

	Not surprisingly she had been thinking of her cubs,
remembering the pups she bore. She had never lacked for food, shelter,
or companionship. There were always, it seemed to her, answers to all
she desired, and running through it all were sensations of sharp teeth
suckling and the warmth of lives surrounding her, even to the end. She
knew she could rest now, she entrusted the pack with the lives of the
cubs. Her last days were spent as though she had been a rootless
wanderer who stumbled around an unfamiliar corner to find herself at
the place she would call home.

	I thought of the story of the dog who chose to go with Adam
after the fall and how life with my kind had almost robbed her of this
feeling of being with her own kind. I began to think about how few
dogs had anything in their lives to compensate them for their loyalty
and their loss and about how few of my kind would ever understand
either the devotion or the sacrifice this entailed.

	Had it not been for the howling, the strange harmonies arising
from the different voices, and the part I played in it, these
realizations may well have caused me to abandon man's world forever.
But in the howling I found strength and in the howling I had to be
myself, human, because my voice must speak all that I am, for good or
ill, else I could not have become part of the wolven song.

	When the growing dimness of the morning sky began to contrast
with the silhouettes of Darkling, the cubs, and the wolf we let
silence claim us. They returned to the den and I returned to my tent.
Sleepless, I started a small fire and stared into its depths,
brooding, and searched for an answer though the question itself still
eluded me.

	I didn't want to be alone and I knew how much the cubs needed
their sleep after the long night. They needed Darkling too, and she,
in the way of motherhood, needed them more than she needed me. I
grabbed a black bottomed pot from its resting place beside the fire
and carried it to the stream. The cold of the night left a faint rheum
of ice on the surface of the stream near the shore. I found it faintly
beautiful, my tired mind tracing the subliminal crystal patterns that
marked it. I tried not to break it and reached out beyond it to dip
the pot in the water. The faint ripples from the disturbed water broke
up the fragile ice and soot from the bottom of the pot was carried
onto the delicate surface, marring its purity. I tried to shrug it off
but the metaphor it presented was too disturbing.

	The fire welcomed me back with a warm embrace and I set the
pot on the cooking stone in the centre of the flames. I watched the
moisture shed from its sides jump around on the hot rock and heard the
ticking of the metal as the opposing forces expanding and contracting
it wrestled with one another. I slipped a pan on the fire and threw in
the strips of bacon I had brought with me and when it was sizzling I
added the four eggs I had hidden away when I arrived the day before.
The smoky smell was making my stomach growl as I crushed the eggshells
and threw them into the pot of water along with a generous helping of
ground coffee. The water began to roil and bubble and brought a
breakfast feeling to morning.

	When the coffee had sunk to the bottom, I moved both the pot
and the frying pan to the outer circle of stones so their contents
could stay warm without being burned. I moved a few steps away from
the fire and sat down crouched down to stare into the jumping flames.
I relaxed and allowed my senses to drift. The familiar tightly bound
sensations of touch and sight and smell became shadows while my
`knowing' of the forest solidified. Blackie's body lay a quarter of a
mile to the north beneath another spreading pine. She lay on the soft
brown carpet with her head on her paws. The lay of the land allowed
her to see the top of the hill where we had howled for her and she
died in the middle of the night after hearing her cubs find their
voices.

	I allowed myself to go further, taking in the feeling of the
frenzy of new growth and new awakenings. Here were rabbits, deer,
partridge, squirrels, skunks, muskrats, black bears, raccoons,
chipmunks, foxes, lynx, owls, porcupines, crows, chickadees, blue
jays, feral cats, groundhogs, and a family of falcons. If I had been a
hunter who delights in killing I could have made their homes run with
the blood and left stillness behind. I thought of the cat, a creature
who loves to kill, but his killing takes him time and he kills few
enough things in his life. I thought of the weasel, there is a
slaughterer! He kills quickly and often. I've seen abandoned buildings
awash with mice emptied in the space of a day by a pair of weasels,
each accounting for more than fifty creatures. They kill joylessly,
their small size and great speed are matched with instincts primed for
efficiency, not cruelty. Cats and weasels are innocents, and man? What
is man?

	I shook off these morbid thoughts. None of my kind moved
within the furthest reaches of my senses in these early hours. They
lay sleeping in the few dwellings that lay within the life of the
forest. As far as I could sense there were no wolves. Although the
territory of the wolf, my friend, was large, it did not comprise the
entire woods. His kind would be moving back to smaller summer
territories, coming closer together and of those there was no sign or
spoor. What of the children of this wolf, surely the packs they would
have gone to would not have been so far but of them too, there was no
sign nor spoor.

	I leaped backward and turned in midair and came down on the
wolf who had crept up behind me. He didn't expect me to know he was
there but the forest knew. I knew the coffee would bring him out to
see me, that's why I made it. I landed with my arms clasped around him
and pulled him off his feet. I let him go and ruffled his neck and
scratched him behind the ears as if he were just some great big dog
and he put up with it for a while before getting up since this was my
first victory, the first time I had come out better than a draw in our
contest of reflexes. We shared some coffee, bacon, and eggs while I
kept breaking into a big silly grin. It wasn't only surprise that
helped me, he had taught me well and I had become nearly as quick as
he was. We had begun to anticipate each other's movements. I had even
analyzed the way I move to be able to stop telegraphing my attacks but
self-consciousness makes me awkward when I try too hard, and even now
I suffer from it. The wolf was amused at my pride, I think he felt I
had made him out to be more than flesh and blood.

	I didn't know why that thought sent a chill down my back and
made something deeper than grief rise up and catch hold of me. I
couldn't eat and the coffee began to seethe in my stomach like
muriatic acid. I had to run to the stream and knelt where the body of
the deer had lain such a short time and a long time ago while I gave
my breakfast back to the waters from which all life sprang.

	When the fires inside me subsided I moved upstream and washed
out my mouth and dipped my cupped hands into the water until I was ice
inside but the feelings didn't go away. I came back to the tent,
shivering and weak and gave the rest of the food and the coffee to the
wolf and crawled into the tent.

	Suddenly the air whooshed out of my lungs as the wolf landed
in the middle of my back. That broke the grip of my malaise and I
began to laugh as soon as I had air to do so. I laughed at the wolf's
payback and I laughed at my mysticism and I laughed at the fool who
was pining for the loss of things not yet lost and letting the
precious moments slip away. I tired to fit the two of us into someone
else's picture, here we were, a boy and his wild dog companion, and I
laughed hardest of all until tears wandered from their hiding places
in the corner of my eyes and every breath was a torment and I found
myself, at last, at the edges of the emotional wasteland since that
long ago day I learned to love. My place was here, my society, my
home. I had been trying to hang on to things I had let go long ago but
through grief, love, and the nurturing I had found within myself I was
no longer a child but what I had become did not quite have a place
with man.

	The wolf relaxed when my outburst wound down and circled three
times to the left and lay with his back to me. He stretched and looked
at me over his shoulder. I could not help but notice how beautiful he
was. I stared into his almond shaped yellow eyes, outlined in black,
like pools of light, surrounded in fawn coloured fur contained within
a mask shape of darker brown and black peppered fur. The planes of his
face and head were so different from the dogs', more wild looking.

	I hugged him and buried my hands in the thick fur of his neck.
His fur was layered, the longer outer hairs were thicker and felt cool
to the touch. Beneath was an undercoat of finer hairs, so much softer
to my hands and warmer. I kneaded the muscles of his neck and
shoulders, they were more developed than a dogs, the muscles more
clearly defined. I stroked his triangular ears and traced the black
band between his eyes with my fingertips.

	Lying next to him like this, memories of death so near, and my
new found knowledge of our equality made me desire him and I began to
grow hard. Embarrassed, I started to draw away but he shifted and
rested against me. My hands explored his form, the curve of his back,
the angles of his chest, the straight lines of his front legs and
gentle curves of his back legs. I held his paws and probed the
roughness of the pads and hardness of his claws. His scent was all
around me, I was swimming in the heady odours of his body.

	I moved my hands at last to the pale plains of his underbelly.
I could see his penis half protruding from his sheath and tentatively
I stroked him. He began to respond, protruding more of himself and
snuggling against me. My hands freed me of my clothing quickly,
without regard for fastenings, responding only to my needs of the
moment.

	The coolness and warmth of the wolf's body was a shock on my
sensitized skin. I held myself close to him as I returned my hands to
attend to him. I leaned over and kissed his mouth, and his jaws parted
slightly to admit my tongue. His fangs were sharper than the dogs and
curved inward to a greater degree. I felt his tongue on my lips then
it was tickling the roof of my mouth.

	I pressed tightly to him now, moving my hands over him,
letting his excitement draw his flesh out of the sheath. His shaft was
hard, as if it contained a bone instead of flesh and the base of the
penis near his body began to swell and grow. I placed one hand on the
swelling and gripped gently and moved my other hand up and down his
length. He responded by humping his body back and forth and his motion
made my contact with his body a delicious thing. I felt a tingling
rush as I came on him, jetting for minutes it seemed. I kept moving my
hands and soon he climaxed. It took twenty minutes or so for the thin
white fluid to stop pulsing from his cock and when it was over we lay
still, in a kind of exhaustion.

	"We've shared the same lover, fostered the same cubs, shared
the hunt and the kill, shared something of our souls and now our
bodies. The only thing we haven't shared is blood."I whispered to him.

	The sleep that claimed me then was dreamless, a distillation
of the silent forest depths poured into my being. The sun had moved a
quarter of the way across the sky by the time I opened my eyes. I felt
as good as if I had slept the night through and all my thoughts were
on the world of light around me and not of the darkness to come.

	I jumped up and raced into the clearing by the den. The cubs
were causing a happy pandemonium and Darkling was observing fondly
while the wolf presided over all with an amused and gruff sort of
tolerance. I was mobbed as I entered the clearing and I got into the
spirit of things, gleefully throwing the cubs in all directions as
quickly as I could but they were no longer so awkward. They were
harder to catch and moved back in more quickly than I could clear them
out. After half an hour all of us were scratched, bruised, and lay in
a heap panting.

	As soon as it seemed we had run out of energy the wolf sprang
up, lifted his nose to smell the wind, waved his tail once and gave a
short sharp bark. Obeying his signal we raced out of the clearing
after him. We fanned out to our assigned positions, the cubs stayed to
the outskirts to help keep the prey running in the right general
direction while Darkling and I cut in to the flank positions. The wolf
bounded ahead, to get ahead of our quarry and cut it off. I had no
idea what we were chasing and took my cue from the wolf. After a few
minutes I detected sounds that weren't made by one of the pack and I
put on a burst of speed. As we neared the prey, Darkling and I began
to run silently. I thought we had outdistanced the cubs but I saw
motion in the bushes that meant they were still close, the fact that I
didn't hear them told me just how good they were getting at this.

	The wolf noticed where the cubs were too and dropped back
behind the prey which turned out to be a large rabbit. He began to
make more noise as he ran and made rapid changes of direction as he
came up behind the rabbit from alternating flanking positions,
confusing the rabbit and making its running pattern less controlled.
Normally we'd only do that to larger prey that was more difficult to
bring down. Darkling and I decided to follow suit and we harried the
rabbit from three directions until it panicked and ran straight at the
nearest of the cubs. We let it go and followed more slowly knowing we
could chase it down again. Two of the cubs converged on the rabbit
each wanting to be the one that make the first kill. Both reached the
rabbit at the same time, so intent on their goal they collided and
began brawling with each other immediately. A third cub had hung back
a little and surveyed the situation and it moved in and ripped the
throat of the rabbit so quickly it didn't have a chance to scream.

	I went over to the two combatants who were still fighting with
serious intentions. I grabbed each one by the scruff of the neck, they
were heavy enough I knew it hurt. "Team work!" I yelled at them. The
wolf came over and repeated the lesson his way. The two cubs were the
last ones to get scraps of raw rabbit. First the cub who made the kill
was allowed to eat then the wolf, then Darkling then myself, though we
adults only took token bites. The newly blooded cub strutted for the
rest of the day.

	That marked the last time I'd bring dog food to the den since
it was time the pack began to hunt as a unit. I could always provide
it in an emergency but lax hunting discipline would leave the pack in
danger of real starvation. I also knew that if the cubs couldn't hunt
well they'd never be accepted as alpha wolves in the packs they would
grow up to join. That would mean that they'd never be able to form the
mating pair that would mean the continuation of their bloodline. A
ready supply of food would dull their appreciation of the hunt.

	I thought about what I had been feeling as we were hunting
together as a pack. I had known it was no matter of survival, we had
the rabbit trapped from the beginning. Despite that certain knowledge
I had become ruled by the pack consciousness of the hunt and lusted
for the kill. I did not feel soiled by that admission, instead I felt
as if a human part of me had been embraced by the experience. A human
part denied by popular opinion that was not, as supposed, a harbinger
of spiritual desolation and emptiness, but instead was a state of
beingness that coupled and the world surrounding me as closely as such
a thing can ever be. Blood lust, like any other passion, was heir to
misconceptions arising from the way it was sated. I wanted to hunt
again and again, buoyed up by the feelings I had shared. If that meant
the pack would eat then to deny myself that joy would be pointless.

	The sun was setting on these thoughts as I made my way back
home. As I approached the house I wondered how long it would feel like
home, then I wondered when the last time was that it felt like home. A
part of me wanted to run away from the place that had changed so much
but another part of me knew how much it was that I had changed and
understood that I couldn't run away from myself.

	I spent a lot of timeless time in the `being' state I had
discovered, alert to scents and movements and the presences around me.
I ceased to hear what was said around me and instead translated
emotion and physical position from the stimulus around me, losing the
shallow shadow meanings transmitted by the gabbling around me. I spent
minutes, then hours, then days in thought patterns devoid of symbols
and symbolism, wordless and aware. Needless to say, my new mode of
being was not conducive to scholastic endeavours. As the end of the
year drew near I had to augment my timeless days with intense studying
and submerged myself in concepts and semantics and abstract patterns
of human knowledge to the point where I almost excluded the physical
world around me. The dichotomy between the modes were sometimes
mistaken for madness and other times for genius but being the way I
was, I was ignorant of both points of view, thus firmly entrenching
the speculations about me in the minds of all who happened to cross my
path. I have been told by those I trust that I evoke the same sense of
wonder even now though as I've grown older I've found such indefinable
properties suit my purposes so I don't elaborate on either aspect of
my psyche but I have found that I don't know the truth of the matter
myself.

	By the final days of June it was shaping up to be a promising
summer. I had brought my 12 gauge from the house, wrapped it in an
oilcloth and stashed it in the den. I had a few cases of shells,
buckshot and birdshot, which I hid in the dry hollow of a tree close
to the den. I never had to use it on a hunt but I did want the cubs to
become familiar with firearms and to learn to respect the power they
represented.

	Darkling had stopped acting like a lifeguard and was content
to let the cubs do as they pleased without keeping up the constant
vigilance that had been second nature to her for so long. One hot
afternoon the cubs were down splashing in the stream and Darkling was
lying in the dark quiet of the den, staying out of the heat. I entered
the den to gather up the old rushes that had served for bedding
throughout the long winter. When I reached down to gather up an armful
Darkling stood up and began to lick my face and neck and the sensitive
areas behind my ears.

	Her face had that shy and saucy coquettish look I hadn't seen
since last autumn. Her brown eyes were soft and happy looking in the
dim light filtering into den. I grabbed her face and kissed her
deeply, unaware of anything except how much I had missed making love
to her feeling an indescribable hunger to revel in her flesh.

	I sank to my knees, embracing her, tenderly caressing her head
and neck. Stroking her supple body, gently, drinking in the magic of
her lithe form. Slowly I laid her on the ground and disrobed, acting
and feeling if I were underwater, driven by a passion so strong it
must be savoured, driven not to haste but to languorous ease. I kissed
the kid leather softness of her rows of nipples and felt them stiffen
beneath my mouth. I moved to the mound between her legs and caressed
it with my lips, tasting the sourness that clung to the few long hairs
that graced its surface. She stroked me with her tongue and I felt as
if the pressure of my erection would burst through my skin.

	I touched the tip of my tongue to the centre of her flesh and
drove in as deeply as I could go, I felt the movement of the ring of
muscles pressing back on my tongue and I began to move it in and out
in an increasing rhythm. She surrounded my cock with her mouth as I
came, her ivory teeth a contrasting hardness to the rose petal
softness of the flesh of her tongue. She shuddered and relaxed, her
excitement becoming unbearably intense as my tonguing brought her to
climax. We lay still for some time before daring to move again.

	Later, as I finished up the refurbished the den, Darkling
disappeared until sundown when she appeared with a very relaxed
looking wolf. I could see that our departure from the normal wolf
breeding patterns had brought for the wolf other compensations.

	I gave myself over to pack life entirely, losing myself in the
passage of days. There would be things to be done at home and I could
only steal so much time for myself. The main thing to be done, now
that the planting season had passed was repairing the split rail fence
that bordered the farm. It wasn't a difficult job, the cedar rails had
been drying since the fall and I knew where the trouble spots on the
fence were. Clearing the bush back from the fence enough to let me
work properly on it was the most time consuming task. Eventually with
a little patience, an auger, and some bailing wire (so I cheated a bit
on my fence construction, big deal) I had the fence almost back to
normal after a full week of hard work and long hours.

	I lost track of the day of the week since summer vacation
meant that Saturdays were no longer special. It was nearly dusk when
Darkling found me. She had been running hard and stumbled as she
approached me then she rolled and recovered quickly to stand trembling
in front of me. I saw her muzzle was covered in froth and blood and I
though of rabies but her eyes were clear, too clear, horribly clear.

	She turned and ran back the way she came, trusting me to
follow. We went to a part of the woods I had never been before. The
wolf was there, lying on his side. I ran to him he was still alive.

	I saw how his foreleg ended in crimson splinters and white and
blue tinged muscle. I could see the teeth marks on the bone as I came
closer and I wondered, shocked, at the vicious beast that had wounded
the wolf. I could smell blood, filling my nostrils along with the
churned earth dug up by the wolf's thrashing. He lay quietly now. I
saw a dozen steps away, a steel jawed trap and a severed paw and
scarlet bloody rags of flesh and fur.

	He saw me, his eyes moved to mine in wordless agony. I was
drowning in amber, my eyes swimming, my mind losing focus. I pulled
the red Swiss army knife from my pocket and opened up the smaller
blade that I always kept razor sharp and slashed deeply at my forearm
and dropped to my knees beside the wolf. I placed the wounds, both
self made, together as I watched his chest slowly rise a little less
each time until it rose no more. I picked him up and freed his severed
paw from the trap and carried him home to the den and up the hill to
the cairn of his dead mate.

	The cubs saw him, silent, cold as I made my way. They were
silent themselves, alarmed and afraid. Some of them tried to roll off
the rocks I placed over his body and play-bit him, hoping to evoke
their father's response. Receiving none, they lapsed back into
inactivity and the second barrow grew on the hill.

	My kind had done this thing and I could not howl because the
absolution in that act did not belong to me. I heard the cubs and
Darkling howling as I unwrapped my 12 gauge and loaded it with
buckshot shells and returned to the trap to wait for the trapper.

	I waited through two sunrises and at last Darkling came wait
beside me. On the second morning a man came by, a local farmer. He
stopped and examined the trap and gave a grunt of disapproval at his
ill luck in not getting an animal corpse of some sort. I tensed and
raised the gun, wanting to make it a clean shot, give him a quick
death that would be better than he deserved but I could not force
myself to any other form of execution. At the last moment, Darkling
spoiled my aim and knocked me over. By the time I scrambled up the man
had gone.

	The rage I felt directed itself at her and I grabbed her by
the throat and managed to choke a single question out of a fury that
robbed me of voice, "Why?" She broke my grip and twisted and bit me
hard. The wound she made was on the same arm I had cut before and
again blood flowed from me and a numbness filled me as I watched it
drip onto the ground, mingling again with the wolf's. The shock calmed
me, made me see what she had lost too and made me remember how much
the cubs needed us.

	I held her and cried until the afternoon and when I began to
be myself again I saw the area around the cut I had made was
dangerously red. Fever began to cloud my mind and Darkling guided me
back to the farmhouse. The cubs, black and charcoal shadows, flitted
almost invisibly through the trees along with us. I was raving,
hallucinating with fever and infection. Once I thought I saw Reverend
Mackenzie coming off a side path onto the main trail through the
forest. "Turn back human!" I screamed, "Damn your kind!"

	From the farm my parents drove me to the hospital where Dr.
Baker attended me and the foreign bodies in my blood had me on the
edge of life and death for two weeks. I talked to the wolf, he was
white now, pure white and he never left my side. At last I took the
food he brought, fresh killed venison and bolted the bloody chunks and
began to feel stronger. The doctors claimed that it was penicillin
that saved me, they couldn't see the wolf.

	When I recovered I told the doctor and my parents an edited
version of what happened to me, saying that I had been building a
travois for the wounded wolf when I had stripped while stripping the
branches off one of the poles. I told them I waited with the wolf
until he died and didn't notice the infection until it was almost too
late. What I didn't tell him was that sometimes the wolf wasn't dead,
they couldn't see him, and before long I couldn't see him either.