Zane's Arc

Chapter 1 of 8

Zane had walked too far into Aldeen Forest, and now the light was leaving. He had come here to be alone. Back home, his stone cottage by the river sat empty. No friends visited. No family waited at the table. He was tired of the quiet, so he had walked until the trees closed behind him. Now he did not know the way back, and the cold was coming. He rubbed his arms through his white sleeves. His moccasins were soaked from a stream he had crossed hours ago. The sun dropped behind the branches. Wind pushed through the leaves and chilled his neck. If he stayed in the open, the night would freeze him. Zane pushed forward, looking for anything that could block the wind. His breath showed in the air. Then, in a clearing, he saw it. A huge old oak stood alone. Its trunk was wide as a wagon, its bark thick and cracked. At its base gaped a dark opening, tall enough for a man to step inside. He hurried to the tree. The hollow inside was dry. Old leaves lined the floor. He crouched, pulled his knees to his chest, and let the wind roar past the entrance. For the first time in hours, he stopped shivering. He had solved one problem. But sitting alone in the dark, he felt the old loneliness press in harder than the cold. This was what he always came home to. Nothing. Then he heard breathing. Slow and close. Zane froze. Two yellow eyes opened in the shadows at the back of the hollow. A wolf lay there, black as the dark around it. It lifted its head and watched him. A white patch marked the fur over one eye. Zane did not move. His heart pounded. He waited for the growl, the snap of teeth. It did not come. The wolf only studied him, calm, as if deciding something. "Easy," Zane whispered. His voice shook. "I just need to stay warm. That's all." The wolf rose. Zane pressed against the wall of the tree. But the animal did not lunge. It stepped closer, sniffed his knee, then his hand. Its nose was cold and wet. Slowly, it lay down beside him, its warm body against his side. Zane hardly breathed. Then, careful as touching glass, he laid one hand on the thick fur. The wolf did not pull away. It let out a long sigh and closed its eyes. Heat spread through Zane's soaked shirt. The wind still howled outside, but he was no longer cold, and he was no longer alone. He stared at the sleeping wolf and felt something loosen in his chest. "You live out here too," he said quietly. "By yourself." The wolf's ear twitched. Zane made a choice. When morning came, he would not walk back to his empty cottage alone. He would bring the wolf with him.