THE WOLF WHO CRIED BOY

          I did not kill the boy.  But I did eat him.  As I stripped the pungent flesh from his arm I saw the rifle and I growled but I did not stop devouring.  That night I slept on his bones and I had my first dream of you.

          I dreamt that I was the boy.  I was close to your face.  I could smell your hot skin and your salty blood.  I could not stand it any longer and I lunged at your lips.  But I awoke whimpering.  I clashed my teeth and I growled.

          In the morning I was drawn by the scent of the boy’s tears down the mountain.  I came to a stream and I smelled where the boy had sat.  I smelled where the rifle had been laid and I growled.  I too sat and I saw my reflection in the trembling water my face black and my eyes yellow.  Beneath the reflection of my eyes was a gold ring lying on the pebbles.

          The tops of the trees swayed and moaned in the wind.  I laid myself down and I had my second dream of you.  I was again the boy and I saw you through a cottage window being devoured by another boy.  I saw my reflection and it was the face of a deer whose throat I had torn out.  I awoke howling.

          By nightfall I arrived at the stench of the village.  I felt like I could not breathe so I dug furiously at the earth to release the fertile decay and I laid myself in the pit to rest.  I had my third dream of you.  I was the boy howling and shaking the rifle at the moon and I could smell you in the wind but you were not there.

          I was awakened by twigs snapping and soil crunching.  My hair turned electric and my lips fled my teeth.  Then I smelled you.  You called out.

          “I know you are out there.  I am sorry.  I am sorry.  Come back to me!”

          I rose up in front of you glaring and you screamed in horror.  But when you gazed into my eyes you suddenly stopped screaming.  You knew.  I was he.

          As you are now me and we are all together.

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