Page 6 of Entering a New World

So I was more than shocked when the wolf suddenly rose, turned around and started heading back in the direction he’d come from.

He’d probably lost interest in me, I thought, my stomach dropping. A strange pang of disappointment hit me right in the heart.

I’d be alone again.

Yeah, that had to be it. I just didn’t want to be alone out here. Being with a wolf seemed like the safer option—at least if he didn’t decide to eat me after all.

Halfway toward the forest edge, the wolf paused, turned his big head around, and yipped at me before nodding in the direction of the underbrush he’d come out of.

“Do you want me to follow you?” I shouted, even though entertaining this thought was pure and utter madness.

Apparently, the wolf didn’t think so. He yipped again, and it almost looked like he was raising his eyebrows at me.

For a moment, I just sat there and stared at the wolf. Was this really happening? Was I hallucinating? Maybe I was already on the brink of death, lying somewhere in the forest, severely dehydrated, coming up with an alternative scenario in which a wolf was rescuing me while, in reality, there was a wolf happily chewing away at my legs.

I shuddered. Nope, I wasn’t going to think about that.

The wolf yipped again, louder and more insistent this time. As if it was asking me what the fuck was taking me so long.

Which, granted, was a fair question, considering I’d asked him to show me the way.

No. Not a fair question. This wolf was behaving… off. Not like I’d expect a wolf to behave. Maybe he was sick. Didn’t wild animals sometimes seek out humans when they were sick? If so… great. I’d probably already gotten what he had because he’d licked my face, and I’d let him.

So, considering I’d probably already caught whatever disease the wolf was carrying… what did I have to lose by actually following him into the forest?

I could get lost, for one, which would suck. I could fall over a root and break my foot. The wolf might be luring me in so he and his pack could eat me..

But what were my other options? Staying here? I didn’t have fresh water; I had no shelter, no nothing. So… why not follow the wolf?

I couldn’t believe I was considering this, and I definitely couldn’t believe I actually got up, stuffed all the gear back into the backpack, then grabbed it, and started following the wolf right to the edge of the forest. In the middle of the underbrush, there was a small, barely visible path, probably created by the wolf and his pack.

Where was the pack, anyway? Wolves were pack animals, weren’t they? Or were there special kinds of wolves? I mean, the term lone wolf existed, so maybe there were indeed a few wolves without a pack.

“Do you have a pack waiting for you?” I asked the wolf.

He turned his head to me, his eyes searching mine for a second. They were a light yellowish-brown and almost appeared to be glowing.

“Stupid question. I know you can’t answer me.”

With a huff, the wolf turned back and disappeared between two big bushes. And by big, I meant as tall as me.

As a city boy that didn’t have any relatives living anywhere besides major cities, I’d never really been anywhere rural. I was probably the antithesis to the Canadian stereotype; I didn’t know how to chop wood, I didn’t know how to fish, and I didn’t know anything about surviving outdoors. I did, however, I did like maple syrup—a lot. Not that it was at all useful right now.

After a couple of steps into the forest, I had to pause. Shrubs were tugging at my jeans, hitting my face left and right, and even though there was a small path we were following, walking here wasn’t exactly easy. I only knew these kinds of wild woods from pictures, but I hadn’t expected them to be so dense. In those stunning, high-res photos, the brushes looked like knee or hip-high, not up-to-my-head high.

False advertising, I thought to myself, while stumbling through the woods, desperately trying to keep up with the wolf who didn’t appear to have any troubles walking here.

After a couple of minutes, I was drenched in sweat.

By the half-hour mark, I was huffing and puffing and felt like I’d just been climbing up the StairMaster for ages. Still, I ignored the burning in my legs and kept going. By now, what other choice did I have? Turning around and heading back wasn’t an option, seeing as a look back told me I couldn’t even see the path we’d taken for more than a couple of feet before it just disappeared right in front of my eyes.

Also, there was still the problem with me needing water and while there was an abundance of water in the form of the Pacific Ocean at the beach, even I knew that wasn’t drinkable. I didn’t want to speed up my death with dehydration, thank you very much.

Finally, after already contemplating if I should try talking to the wolf again, I heard a promising sound—splattering. That meant there was water close to us.

I sped up my pace and caught up to the wolf that took a turn to the left, leaving the path we’d been following. We headed up a small hill that, fortunately, didn’t have any of the thick bushes we’d been hiking through. The sound of water hitting stones got louder and louder the farther we went up the hill, and when we finally reached the top, I gasped.

Right in front of us was a small waterfall, a small stream steadily flowing down something that resembled a set of stairs made out of rough stones, pooling into a small, crystal-clear lake. This was incredible. Stunning. So beautiful I wanted to take a picture.

---