w.o.l.f

  With a mouth full of white daggers that sparkled in the reflection of the moon, the wolf moved silently, a few feet ahead of her pack. I watched them from a distance, afraid to move closer but too mesmerized by their cunning beauty and seamless movements to step away. Also afraid that if I left this spot, that they would hear me. I could tell that she was a female. The only female in the pack perhaps. The way they allowed her to move ahead, and the slow swagger she had to her step. It was as if she was leading the way for them, making sure the path was clear. If I was too move closer, I would have noticed the severity of her famine. Fur clinging to the bones on her body, each hair blown left and right by the night winds. She was hungry. The pack was hungry. But I could not tell from where I was standing.
  Perhaps it was the smell of the fire burning a few yards behind me that caught her attention. Why she would suddenly snap her head up and turn in my direction, eyes looking straight into mine, I would never know. All I knew was that I could not move at all when we made eye contact. Those dark mirrors, life dwindiling beneath them, captivated me. It was then that I realized how hungry she was. We broke eye contact as she looked around and past me, giving me a chance to look around and past her, at the rest of the pack. There was not many of them. Only around 5 that I could see. In most of the studies I had made before I set out on this hunting trip, I had learned that for the most part, wolf packs consist of an average of ten. I wondered where the rest of the pack had went, if there was any more. She took a step closer, and the fear that I had earlier for some reason, vanished.
  I don't know what it was, I wish I could describe it. For the moments following were unlike anything I could ever re-create using words or pictures. I'll try my best. Her ears perked up and she tilted her head to the side, still facing my direction. She put her nose to the ground and began to sniff. I noticed that the wolves behind her had stopped moving. I wondered why. I was almost sure that this would be the way that I would die, a meal to a small pack of hungry wolves. She turned back around to face the pack. She sat down. They followed suit. I had no idea what to think at that point. They were almost humanlike, the way they listened to one another. But not one of them barked or even howled at the moon as I expected them to. But it was clear there was communication going on between them. I wonder what she was telling them. Did they all agree with her? Perhaps I was thinking too far into it. After all, what they were telling each other, if they were telling each other anything at all, I would never know. And suddenly, I felt mediocre in their presence.
  Mediocrity is a funny feeling, a feeling that a man of my stature is not used to. I was always top of my class and well respected by my peers. I was used to being looked up to, used to my voice being the only one listened to in large groups. But at that moment, I felt like a stepchild in a family that did not want me. A new kid in the middle of the year, after everyone already made friends. The last picked in a game of baseball. I felt timid and insecure, exposed despite the dark shadows of night. Her back to me, I was ignored. I wanted her to notice me. Wanted her to tell the rest of the pack about me. She made me want... to die.
  But she did not tell the rest of the pack. She got up. They got up. They hesitated. She barked quietly at them, seeming to give them the go-ahead to start moving without her. After they left, she turned around and looked at me again. Eyes staring directly in mine, with a look that seemed to tell me "you're welcome," she turned back around and strutted back to the rest of her pack.