Lone Wolves by John Smelcer

long, and she should have finished reading sooner, but she lingered on every page, imaging her grandfather as Santiago. She imagined Santiago with a granddaughter, teaching her the ways of the sea and of seafarers the way her grandfather had taught her the ways of the land. Was the sea Santiago’s adversary or his friend? Giver or Taker? And did the old fisherman consider himself to be at home when he was on the sea the way her grandfather felt at home when he was in the wilderness?
    In her mind, Denny decided that he did.
    She also wondered if Santiago would have been content had he died out there on the horizonless sea. Wrenching a living from the sea seemed to give meaning to his life. In his heart, the old man knew who he was when he was out there alone in a small boat atop the great, rolling deep. The low sweeping clouds and the unfisting waves spoke to Santiago, the way the river and the wind spoke to Denny’s grandfather.
    It was the ancient language of the world.
    After dog-earing a page to mark her place, Denny took out her notebook, worked on her sketch of the wolf for a few minutes, trying to get it just right, and then turned to a blank page to write a new diary entry before going to bed.

    Dear Nellie,
    I saw the wolf again today. He just seemed to magically appear at our campsite. I don’t know how he ended up there. Perhaps he followed me. He certainly followed me all the way home! I don’t know how to say this, but I get the feeling he’s lonely. I think he was part of the pack that killed Ms. Holbert while she was out running. But I don’t think he had anything to do with it. I think he was kicked out. Maybe that’s why he follows me. I guess everyone wants a friend, even a wolf. I can understand that. I didn’t tell Mother about him. She wouldn’t understand. She’d just tell me that he’s dangerous and warn me to stay away. I think Grandpa would have been totally amazed at how I just sat there talking to the wolf. I named him Tazlina; Taz for short. I hope I see him again.
    Yours always,
    Denny

Letter

Wolf

10
    Gistaani na’aaye’
    February
    T hat Friday night there was a party at Mary’s house. Of course, her parents were away, visiting relatives in another village. All the high school kids were there, even a couple from junior high. By eleven o’clock, only Denny, Mary, Norman, Johnny, and Silas remained. Like always, Mary was drinking, which was really making Denny angry. Silas was sitting on the couch watching a movie.
    When Norman and Johnny stepped outside, Denny snatched the beer bottle from Mary’s hand.
    â€œSeriously! You have to stop drinking!” she snapped.
    â€œWhat do you care?” asked Mary, reaching for the bottle.
    â€œBecause it’s a human being. It deserves better than to have you screw up its life.”
    â€œI don’t care about none of that. I don’t want this baby.”
    Denny tried to swallow her anger. She knelt on the plywood floor and gently took Mary’s head in her hands.
    â€œListen to me,” she said, forcing Mary to look her in the eyes. “You can’t change the way things are. I know how you got pregnant. I know who did it to you. Everyone knows. I know how frightened and alone you must feel. But this baby didn’t do anything to anybody. It’s not responsible. It just is. Drinking may make you forget how bad things are for a while, but it’s destroying this baby. Every drink you take is erasing its future.”
    â€œHer,” said Mary softly.
    â€œWhat?” asked Denny.
    â€œThe baby,” said Mary, running a hand over her belly. “She’s a girl.”
    Mary started crying.
    â€œI don’t know what to do,” she sobbed. “This baby is ruining my life.”
    Denny held Mary, who resisted at first.
    â€œYour life isn’t ruined,” Denny whispered. “It’s just beginning. I know you got a raw deal. Life