Since that horrible night a year ago, when I killed my sister, I dream a lot about running with wolves. In my heart, I experience the joy of breaking free from human bonds and traveling the shadow land with my pack.
Last night the dream in which I roamed the wilderness with my brothers and sisters, morphed into a nightmare. A silver alpha male trotted so close his breath washed over me like a thick cloud. From out of the dark trees ahead, a cloaked figure emerged. Patches of moonlight slithered through bare limbs and reflected on the barrel of a long rifle cradled in his arms. A murmur of impending death rippled through the pack, but not in time to save us all. He aimed and fired into our midst. Some scattered while others dropped. Howls of pain echoed through the darkness, clogged with the smell of death. I raced over blood-soaked ground, but with only two legs to their four, soon fell behind. Gasping for air and sick at heart, I stumbled over a crumpled form and sank to my knees beside the mortally wounded alpha female. My fingers clutched her thick ruff to meld our spirits. Her gleaming amber eyes gazed at me a moment, but before I could read the message there, she was gone. Lost to another world. From the distance rose a powerful lament. My sister Lara cried out my name; the howl of the alpha male begged me to join them. Bereft, I rose and answered their call.
Why not go with them? I had no one, nothing. My life was empty.
I came to my senses standing naked at the bedroom window, my own wail echoing around me. Jagged peaks of the Grand Tetons cut into the ashen sky, like some giant had slashed at the universe with wicked shears. From far away a forlorn baying pricked at my conscience. For so long my soul had overflowed with guilt. This night it was joined with a desire to roam with the pack. To take the place of the Alpha female and mate with the beautiful silver male. An orgasm struck with such intensity that I doubled over and hugged myself, my voice joining the other night cries. What release, what intense joy. My body trembled and my muscles convulsed in a lonely mating dance.
My sister often spoke of a legend that tells how each woman shelters within her soul the spirit of the wolf. But she alone can sing that spirit into being. At that moment I yearned to disappear into the night, never to be heard from again. Ached to sing my wolf spirit into being. Just as La Loba – Wolf Woman – sings over the bones of the dead wolf and resurrects it, I could then do the same for Lara. No lover can elicit this great feeling of love, for this is women’s labor and a solitary work carried out in the desert of the psyche. But it was only a legend. Wasn’t it?
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