The family was being systematically hunted down. They had gotten lost in the woods when heavy snows had slowed down their progress and obliterated the path. Now night was falling fast and the coming cold would surely kill the child if shelter were not found soon. And then, as they were making their way across a small clearing, the mother saw the wolves. Restless canine eyes were peering from the shadows of the distant forest that ringed around the trudging family. The wolves had formed a semi-circle behind the family and were carefully watching and waiting.
The mother hurried ahead with the young child as the father lingered behind, following slowly and keeping his eyes to the west, towards the menacing wolves.
The wolves began their slow, calculating march toward the family as the father stayed to meet them with his gun and with his knife. The mother continued east with the child, hoping to find some shelter. She soon came upon a thicket that was encircled partially by some boulders. There she found a small snowless area with a good cover of dry leaves and bramble. It was out of the wind and the mother and child made a warm nest in the leaves and awaited the father.
“Mother, I saw the wolves, too. Will father kill them?”
“He must.”
“Will they eat us if he doesn’t kill them?”
“He will kill them or drive them away. Stop worry now and trust that we are safe. We won’t help by doubting father.”
“I know. I’m not afraid.”
Twelve emaciated wolves stalked up to the boy’s father, tightening their circle and sizing up their prey. The hunger was in their eyes and all their fangs glistened in the evening glow. The man did not have the same feeling of reassurance that his warm son was now feeling. His only hope was in a shotgun and a knife—not enough against so many wolves, so many famished wolves. As soon as the pack came within range, the father took his shot, killing one wolf. The rest quickly scattered but then immediately resumed their slow march back. The man deftly and efficiently reloaded and with a continuous motion lifted the gun again, aimed and fired, but too late. As a second wolf crashed into the snowy ground, the remaining wolves had charged into too close to turn back. Reversing the shotgun, the besieged man wielded it like a long club and knocked down two more wolves. He then unsheathed his knife just as the first wolf lunged and bit down unmercifully on the man’s other arm. Swinging wildly and slashing through thick pelts, the man fell down as the wolves made their final sally.
They heard the first shot from the warm thicket where they were nestled and felt much reassured that the father had lingered behind to deal with the pack. Both mother and son knew that they would be next if father failed but at the same time knew that they were safe. Father was out there in the snow and he would save them from the wolves.
“There’s one shot already”, whispered the boy.
“The wolves will probably leave now. They won’t want to hear that again.”
“I think so. Father’s a good shot. Tomorrow we’ll be back on our way home.”
“Stay quiet now. We aren’t clear till father comes back.”
The second shot reported to the thicket.
“Good”, said the child quietly, “another dead wolf.”
“We have nothing to fear with father out there. Now, keep quiet till he comes and finds us.”
They sat there in the warmth of the cozy thicket for a while and watched for the father’s return, expecting to hear either another shot or a searching shout. More time passed and the child said, “Mother, shall I go and see if father has lost the way?”
“No, child. Stay here. The moon is bright and our tracks will be easy to follow. He is still facing the wolves. He will stay out there all night to keep them from finding us if he has to.”
“What if they get father?”
“What? Don’t be silly! That could never happen! Your father is unmatched anywhere and he can handle a little pack of wolves.”
“I know, I was just wondering.”
“Well don’t. We are safe and sound here.”
Several hours passed and the child began to fall in and out of sleep; he was really quite warm and was enjoying the adventure, letting it mingle with his dreams. Finally they heard a soft rustling in the distance, approaching slowly and gradually getting louder.
“Father’s done it! He’s coming back!”
“Hush! Stay quiet till we know!”
“I know. But I’ll be quiet till he’s here.”
The rustling slowly became louder and louder and seemed to be coming from all around. The mother’s face became drawn and haggard. She anxiously looked down at the child, but he was already succumbing again to sleep. As he returned to some enchanting dream, the child whispered, “I feel safe with father out there. We’ll go home tomorrow...”