Otatso Wetlands I Can Hear the Wild Wind Howling

The sky grew darker as Weetzie continued to make his way westward, carefully picking his way through the swamp. He heard a soft chuff behind him and turned around to see what he believed to be a very young but large silver wolf. He was usually unable to read the emotions of others, and even more so when the other did not speak, but he doubted that his silence was a good sign. He also suspected that the juvenile would be more emotional and less predictable than an older wolf, which he did not find comforting.

He figured he could flee if he had to, and he could probably hide pretty well in the wetland. Even so, he would prefer not to change his course. He certainly didn’t want to end up going around in circles in this mud pit. There was also the possibility that he was in or approaching another’s territory, and it was not in his nature to trespass.

Weetzie blinked a few times and sniffed the air. He could still see the wolf and detect his scent, so he concluded that the wolf was real and not just the wind. He wondered if the wolf lived in this spooky place.

He dreaded the thought of socializing, especially if the wolf turned out to be hostile. On the other paw, if the wolf were friendly, Weetzie might find some comfort in the company of the large, imposing form, though he would never admit it, even to himself. He yawned to relax himself, and the fur on his tail finally settled, mostly. He stiffly wagged his tail and spoke to the wolf. “Pardon me,” he said in his flat, monotone voice, “I have no desire to intrude. I was simply passing through.”