Historical Setting, cold unknown
There are stories of saints like Father Columbanus befriending wolves. Father Columbanus stood tall with a comforting authority but never a threatening dominance.
Dear God, as I find new strength, may I have these saintly virtues. Amen. But…
I doubt my circumstances and the virtues of a saint have similarity in the opinions of wolf. My presence here as a sacrifice, along with my helpless state, makes clear I’m not a saint.
I think about rising up perhaps onto my hands and knees so that I can creep around with these beasts and in a wild imagining, share in the meat and maybe a sip of water.
Just as I turn onto my side, the she-wolf, the matriarch, is here and with teeth barred takes hold of the hair at the back of my neck — such a wad of hair I have now. She drags me by the hair, though I am somewhat able to help, into a shallow cave which seems to be the den. I’m not sure if the dragging is a kindness or the meal preparation of me. But here I am now out of the wind and warmed by the beasts. It’s a relief from the shivers. Here a trickle of water runs down the cave wall into a pool.
I see proper etiquette here is to use no hands. So instead of scooping up the water in my hand as Gideon choose soldiers, (Judges 7:4-16,) here, wolves and I just go all in face down in the water, lapping, sucking up wetness however it can be done without hands or dish. It’s a long and quenching refreshment. My strength is coming back to me.
Some of the lesser members of the pack have gone outside to gnaw the raw meats with the birds who have gathered. Frozen and raw, this is a very different kind of feast for me, gnawing and ripping at the kill, using only teeth. Having not the right facial structure for this project, I do manage to tear loose a piece of meat larger than a bite and one of the young wolves apparently takes offense at my greed. I don’t mean to be greedy. I stretch the meat held in my teeth toward him to share and we are in something of a tooth-to-tooth tug of war with the meat slab in the middle. It tears apart and we each have a good share. We gnaw our morsels together as family at a feast.
(Continues Tuesday, Nov. 19)
Lazarus Ink 