The Woeful Wolf

From travels in my mind to the world of fairy tales…

After traveling far, Warren Wolf was finally home. He found a trench, in which to spend the day, and slowly recalled the events of the last two weeks. It had  been a rough two weeks, but now he was home where he belonged. 

He had found his way back to the range of the Blue Moon Wolf Pack. Warren had lived with the Blue Moon Pack since his days as a cub. He knew these forests and grasslands and winding rivers; they were all he needed. Life had been good until that day when the mean ones came to attack the Pack and chase them off their land. 

When the Alpha was slain, a black tank rolled toward them, filling the air with smoke and emitting a menacing hum. The mean ones, who tumbled out of the tank, wore gas masks. Befuddled by the smoke’s chemicals, Warren and the rest of the pack were prodded into a white van. 

The pack rolled on the van’s floor for almost a day, traveling far away from their range. When the van finally came to a stop, its doors opened to a barrage of bullets. Warren was in the middle of the crowd and somehow managed to escape the bullets, running under the van and into the brush. 

From his hiding place, Warren watched his downed comrades being thrown into a huge wheel barrel and then dumped into a waiting grave. Warren watched a yellow tractor fill the deep grave with stones and soil. He hung his head. He was alone. 

That night, Warren started the long journey home. When the tracks became invisible, his hearing and sense of smell took over. The roads were heavily patrolled so he kept to hidden trenches during the daylight hours. The journey was painfully slow, but he had made it. Warren closed his eyes and prayed for strength. 

The sun had finally set so Warren stepped out of today’s trench. He found the crime scene and paused to investigate. Warren could have sworn there was a strong scent of pork in the air.

He hastened his pace only to encounter a white picket fence that had not been there before. Warren jumped over the fence and proceeded toward the first creek. He was astounded to find a clearing in the wood.  At the end of the clearing was a square house made of straw. The house appeared vacant.

Warren howled. Didn’t they know this was land on which the Blue Moon Wolf Pack ran and hunted? Warren stifled a sob. He gasped and took in large breathes of air. He started to pace and then with all his might, he tackled the house. It was barely a lean-to, covered with hay.  Warren backed up and surveyed the scene. He huffed and he puffed and he blew the house remnants down. Facing away from the scene, Warren kicked up the dirt with his back feet. He would show them not to mess with the Blue Moon Wolf Pack. 

Minutes later, he found another white picket fence, fronting a house of sticks. He charged at the house of sticks, and it collapsed into fragments. Warren straightened his shoulders.  That was for the Alpha.

Next, Warren came to a brick gate in front of a brick house. A light glowed inside the house. Warren crawled to the window and peered inside. Three little pigs were working on a jigsaw puzzle in front of a fireplace. Warren was tired and shaken, but he needed answers now. He would face them down and demand answers.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in,” howled Warren.

The pigs started.  One of them ran to a far window and raised it just enough to be heard. 

“Not by the hair of my chinny, chin chin,” squealed the little pig.

Warren was taken aback by the rudeness. He felt sure these pigs bore some responsibility for his misery. Warren sat back on his haunches, and pondered. Minutes later, he howled, “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

Warren huffed and puffed and even charged at the house. Unlike the house made of sticks and the house made of straw, this house of brick didn’t budge. Warren trotted off into the darkness to consider his next move.

The door and windows were closed, but there was a chimney opening on that house made of brick. Perhaps he could get in through the chimney. He slunk back toward the house. The fireplace looked dark and the pigs were nowhere to be seen, but Warren’s nose assured him they were still in the house. 

Warren slowly climbed the trellis and hopped onto the roof. He put his nose in the chimney. It smelled of smoke but he could see no flame, only darkness.  Warren looked around. Traveling in the pack, he had been a quick follower but never a leader. Now he was alone and it was up to him to devise a plan.

Clearly, jumping through a tall cylinder of brick was a bad idea. His nose and ears told him the embers still crackled. If only he could talk it over with someone. But the only others around were the three pigs and they wouldn’t let him in.

Warren looked down the chimney again. Overcome by weariness and anger, Warren plunged down the chimney, only to land in a big cauldron of hot water. As he shot up, a cast iron lid banged down on his head. The little pig pulled the latch to secure the lid.

We can only hope that by then, poor Warren had lost consciousness.

silent testament

TATTOO—Journeys on My Mind:  GET the audio book (7 hours, 13 minutes) at Barnes and Noble or Google Play or Chirpbooks or Kobo or AudiobooksNow or Downpour or The Podcast App or Scribd or Overdrive. On iTunes, click on audiobooks and search by author.  GET thepaperback (232 pages) or e-book at Barnes and Noble, at Apple Books or at Amazon.  The ebook is also at Smashwords.

Characters of Huffinfield by Tina Marie L. Lamb is now available as an ebook or a paperback at Barnes and Noble and at Amazon.  The ebook is also available at Kobo and at Smashwords.

Buy it. Read it. And let me know what you think.



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