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Guided by Wolves

February 25, 2010

I traveled through snowy mountains with two wolves. After hundreds of miles the gray wolf stopped and crouched forward so I could climb on his back. He had a massive body, paws the size of a small car, a long snout and sharp teeth. The brown wolf was smaller, but quick on his feet. He spotted trouble in the distance and guided us along a different path. When we reached the river they told me I had to wait until they returned from the hunt. The brown wolf nuzzled against my face before leaving. He was dirty, but his scent was familiar, comforting.

I waited by the river until dusk. I saw an empty raft pass by. The snow was gone and they had not returned. I thought about crossing the river myself, but felt compelled to listen to my friends.

When they returned, the gray wolf was injured. The brown wolf came as a man, covered with scratches and open cuts. I climbed onto the gray wolf and we leaped across the river. We ran until we found a small cave. There, the brown wolf held me against his chest, his hands wrapped tightly around my waist. The gray wolf slept by the entrance.

When I woke up I could still feel the heat emanating from his body.

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