*

Beneath the dawn, a bond was cast, In silent trust, a moment passed. By night, the wolf had disappeared, But left its mark, a gift revered.

*

---

When I woke, the world was a muted palette of dawn soft greys and pale yellows filtering through the gaps in the trees. A faint chill clung to the air, biting at my skin. My body was stiff, every muscle aching as if I’d spent the night wrestling with the forest itself.

I sat up slowly, wincing as my bad leg throbbed in protest. My shelter a crude assembly of branches and leaves had done little to ward off the cold, and I rubbed my hands together, trying to summon some warmth. The ash in the fire pit was cold to the touch, a silent reminder of how fragile its heat had been.

Then I remembered the wolf.

I turned sharply, heart leaping in my chest, expecting to see the silver-furred giant still lying where it had collapsed the night before. For a moment, the breath caught in my throat, and my eyes darted to the spot.

It was still there.

The wolf lay motionless, its massive body curled slightly as if the ground offered it comfort. The morning light caught in its fur, turning the silver coat into something almost ethereal. It was less a creature of flesh and bone and more like a spirit of the forest, bound temporarily to this world. Its shallow breaths were the only indication it was alive, the rhythmic rise and fall of its side hypnotic in the stillness of the morning.

I exhaled, tension I hadn’t realized I was holding melting away.

The faint metallic tang of blood lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy smell of damp leaves and moss. The dried blood on its flank had cracked in places, revealing deep, angry gashes that looked just as brutal in the daylight as they had the night before.

I shifted closer, each movement slow and deliberate. The wolf’s ears flicked at the sound of rustling leaves beneath my weight, but it didn’t lift its head. Its eyes remained closed, the creature too exhausted or too trusting or perhaps too resigned to react to my approach.

“You’re still here,” I murmured, my voice hoarse from the cold.

The wolf’s ear twitched in response, and I almost smiled.

The air felt heavier now, like the forest itself was holding its breath, watching this strange interaction unfold. My own breaths were shallow as I leaned closer, examining the wounds again. They looked… different. The redness had faded slightly, and the swelling wasn’t as pronounced. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn they were healing faster than they should.

“Guess you’re tougher than you look,” I said, my tone softer than I’d intended.

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The wolf opened one eye a sliver of blue that fixed me with an unreadable stare. It wasn’t aggressive, nor was it welcoming. It was simply watchful, as though it was gauging my intentions.

“I’m just gonna clean them up again, okay?” I said, holding my hands out in what I hoped was a non-threatening gesture.

I moved to the small water container I’d left near the fire pit, dipping a cloth into the cool water. The sensation sent a shiver up my arm, the chill biting through my skin. With cautious movements, I returned to the wolf’s side, the soaked cloth dripping faintly as I brought it closer.

The wolf tensed, a low growl rumbling deep in its throat.

“Hey, easy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’m not here to hurt you. Just… let me help.”

The growl subsided, though the wolf’s muscles remained taut beneath its fur. Gently, I pressed the damp cloth against one of the wounds. The wolf flinched, a sharp whine escaping its throat, and I paused, my hands hovering in mid-air.

“I know it hurts,” I said softly. “But it’ll get worse if I don’t clean it.”

I resumed, more carefully this time, wiping away the crusted blood and dirt from the jagged gashes. The texture of its fur was coarse yet thick, the strands clinging to my fingers as I worked. Every so often, the wolf would let out a low whine or a sharp intake of breath, but it didn’t lash out.

The forest around us was alive with sound now the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirping of birds welcoming the morning. It was strange, almost peaceful, despite the tension of the moment.

As I cleaned the last wound, I noticed the wolf’s gaze hadn’t left me. Those blue eyes were sharp, intelligent, far more aware than any animal’s eyes had a right to be. It was unsettling, as though it was reading every thought that passed through my head.

I leaned back, wiping the sweat from my brow. “There,” I said, letting out a shaky breath. “That’s the best I can do for now.”

The wolf’s tail gave a faint twitch, almost imperceptible. I didn’t know what it meant, but it felt oddly… approving.

For the rest of the day, I busied myself with small tasks, all the while acutely aware of the wolf’s presence. Gathering water from the stream was harder than usual; my leg ached more than normal, and the steep incline near the water’s edge tested my patience. By the time I returned to the shelter, my arms were trembling from the strain.

“You know,” I said, settling back into the space near the fire pit, “you could at least try to help. Fetch some water, scare off a bear or two. Earn your keep.”

The wolf let out a soft huff, its ears flicking dismissively.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Figures. I get the only wolf in the forest that’s too noble to lend a paw.”

The hours dragged on, and the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long, golden shadows across the forest floor. The wolf remained a silent companion, listening to me rambling on and on about my life... its breathing steady, its body still save for the occasional twitch of its ears or tail.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, I lit another fire. The flames crackled and popped, the warmth seeping into my skin and chasing away the chill that had settled in my bones.

“I don’t know why you’re still here,” I admitted, staring into the fire. “But… I’m glad you are.”

The wolf didn’t respond, but its gaze softened, just slightly.

When sleep finally came, it was heavy and dreamless, pulling me under like the weight of the forest itself.

---

I woke up in the middle of the night to an unfamiliar stillness.

The fire had died again, its embers cold and lifeless. My shelter seemed emptier than it had before. I blinked, the fog of sleep lifting slowly, and turned toward the spot where the wolf had been.

It was empty.

I froze, staring at the patch of ground where the silver wolf should have been. The faint indentations in the dirt were the only signs it had ever been there at all.

I stood, my chest tightening as a strange sense of loss swept over me. “Figures,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t stick around.”

But as I turned to gather my things, I noticed something else.

A single, silvery tuft of fur lay near the fire pit, glinting faintly in the moon light. I picked it up, the strands soft and cool against my fingers.

For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at the tiny piece of the wolf it had left behind.

“Guess you’re full of surprises,” I murmured, tucking the tuft into my pocket.

And with that, I turned toward the dark forest, wondering if I’d ever see it again.