her. Then suddenly he broke into a flurry of movement that almost had her jumping back again. He leaped up and when he landed on the ground again, his body was low, his front paws extended and his mouth was open, panting slightly. It took her a moment to recognize the familiar posture in the huge creature but when she got over the size of him — he looked decidedly playful.
And Moira started to climb down the slope. She wasn’t afraid of him but the decision came when she realized that she wasn’t afraid of the worst case scenario, either.
Slipping and sliding a little, she finally pushed herself off and got both feet on the broad, flat stone. She dared another glance at the wolf that was now a few feet above her, looming there against the dark sky. A shiver ran down her spine, but it wasn’t altogether a bad feeling.
Climbing up the other side was easier. She held on to tufts of grass and she knew the place well, knew the outcrops that supported her weight. When she stood in front of him, he sat up again, sniffing the air.
Carefully, Moira offered her hand; grass and earth-stained, very much drenched in her scent. The massive head inched closer, and she could hear the quiet sniffing sounds before he nudged his wet nose against her palm. There was something in her chest, somehow warm and glorious, something that made her want to giggle or throw her arms around the creature — it was a feeling she hardly recognized. It took her breath away, but finally, she moved her fingers carefully along the side of his muzzle and to his ears, rubbing shyly at first. When he uttered a tiny noise of pleasure, she grew more confident and had a beaming smile on her face without even knowing how it got there.
The wolf moved his shaggy head, nuzzling her hand and then her arm. There was a driven quality to his motions when he reached her wrist. His wet nose tickled, but it was a good feeling. Next, she could feel her sleeve brushed upwards and a hot and raspy tongue brushed over her arm. She swallowed a little squeal. He continued to sniff and nuzzle there and finally, Moira pulled away. She brushed the sleeve back down, ashamed of the scratch-marks her fingernails had left there.
The wolf just looked at her with his ancient, silver eyes.
“Do you … want to run with me?” she asked finally. If there was still something of the rule-abiding Owain inside of him, he’d probably dislike the idea. Before she could ponder this further, the wolf had jumped up on all fours again. Playfully, he leaped a few paces down the hill and then back to her. When he did it again, she followed. She pulled her nightgown up high enough to free her movement and then she ran after him, stumbling down the grassy hill.
When the paths got rockier, she slipped on her shoes and freed up both hands to stretch her arms out wide into the wind. She knew the wolf was humoring her, could have outrun her immediately, but he kept her pace, stopped when she needed to breathe or when she tumbled laughing into a heap of leaves under an ancient linden tree.
It was a night like none other in her life. She had never shared her secret expeditions with anyone — that was the point; to get away and be alone. But the wolf wasn’t a person; the wolf made it better. He made her laugh so easily just by flicking an ear or posturing like a hugely oversized puppy.
Yet nothing about him felt like a pet. Her father owned dogs and she had played with them and petted them. The wolf wasn’t like that. He was powerful and deeply independent. And even when he jumping around because it made her giggle, she had the distinct feeling he was doing just because it was making her happy; because he wanted to and that he could stop and walk away at any time. He was a truly free creature and Moira was enchanted with him.
• • •
When she found herself back at the foot of the Bramble Hill, it came as a surprise. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but it was still dark without any
And Moira started to climb down the slope. She wasn’t afraid of him but the decision came when she realized that she wasn’t afraid of the worst case scenario, either.
Slipping and sliding a little, she finally pushed herself off and got both feet on the broad, flat stone. She dared another glance at the wolf that was now a few feet above her, looming there against the dark sky. A shiver ran down her spine, but it wasn’t altogether a bad feeling.
Climbing up the other side was easier. She held on to tufts of grass and she knew the place well, knew the outcrops that supported her weight. When she stood in front of him, he sat up again, sniffing the air.
Carefully, Moira offered her hand; grass and earth-stained, very much drenched in her scent. The massive head inched closer, and she could hear the quiet sniffing sounds before he nudged his wet nose against her palm. There was something in her chest, somehow warm and glorious, something that made her want to giggle or throw her arms around the creature — it was a feeling she hardly recognized. It took her breath away, but finally, she moved her fingers carefully along the side of his muzzle and to his ears, rubbing shyly at first. When he uttered a tiny noise of pleasure, she grew more confident and had a beaming smile on her face without even knowing how it got there.
The wolf moved his shaggy head, nuzzling her hand and then her arm. There was a driven quality to his motions when he reached her wrist. His wet nose tickled, but it was a good feeling. Next, she could feel her sleeve brushed upwards and a hot and raspy tongue brushed over her arm. She swallowed a little squeal. He continued to sniff and nuzzle there and finally, Moira pulled away. She brushed the sleeve back down, ashamed of the scratch-marks her fingernails had left there.
The wolf just looked at her with his ancient, silver eyes.
“Do you … want to run with me?” she asked finally. If there was still something of the rule-abiding Owain inside of him, he’d probably dislike the idea. Before she could ponder this further, the wolf had jumped up on all fours again. Playfully, he leaped a few paces down the hill and then back to her. When he did it again, she followed. She pulled her nightgown up high enough to free her movement and then she ran after him, stumbling down the grassy hill.
When the paths got rockier, she slipped on her shoes and freed up both hands to stretch her arms out wide into the wind. She knew the wolf was humoring her, could have outrun her immediately, but he kept her pace, stopped when she needed to breathe or when she tumbled laughing into a heap of leaves under an ancient linden tree.
It was a night like none other in her life. She had never shared her secret expeditions with anyone — that was the point; to get away and be alone. But the wolf wasn’t a person; the wolf made it better. He made her laugh so easily just by flicking an ear or posturing like a hugely oversized puppy.
Yet nothing about him felt like a pet. Her father owned dogs and she had played with them and petted them. The wolf wasn’t like that. He was powerful and deeply independent. And even when he jumping around because it made her giggle, she had the distinct feeling he was doing just because it was making her happy; because he wanted to and that he could stop and walk away at any time. He was a truly free creature and Moira was enchanted with him.
• • •
When she found herself back at the foot of the Bramble Hill, it came as a surprise. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but it was still dark without any
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