The wolf’s call was a claiming of the land he stood on, of all that lived in it, including her. He was huge; his shoulders would reach her hip if he stood at her side. His coat was thick. Black and gray on his back and face blended into brown and white down his sides and belly. At the end of his cry, he sat on his haunches and watched her. She almost wept for her lack of camera. She’d always been drawn to wolves; found them majestic and spent years studying them, trying to figure out what their hold over her was. Her past rushed at her and when she took her first step toward him, she knew this was a continuing part of her lifelong journey. Her whole life led to this moment, this choice. She paused when she reached him, yearning to dig her fingers through his fur but unsure if she could take the final plunge into a murky future. Sinking to her knees, not touching him but within easy reach, she looked up to meet his eyes. The longing there that mirrored her own would have knocked her on her butt if she wasn’t already there.
