Professor Edmund Whitmor wanted one wild thing to love him again. His wife had been gone a year. His log cabin sat empty by the creek, and he could not stand the quiet anymore. So each morning he took his purple cane and shuffled the same narrow path along the water, hoping some creature would come home with him. But his legs ached, and the cane only carried him so far. He met the same wren, the same beetle, the same slow current. Nothing new. Today his knees gave out early. He lowered himself onto a flat rock near the river and set the cane across his lap. His round glasses fogged. He wiped them with a shaking thumb and could not put them back on. Instead he pressed both hands to his face and wept. "Just one friend," he said. "That's all I asked for." The crying carried down the path. Edmund did not hear the padding until it was close. He lowered his hands. A grey wolf stood three steps away, watching him with bright blue eyes. It was young, with paws too big for its legs. Edmund froze. A wild wolf should have run. This one sat down instead, calm as a house dog, and leaned its warm side against his knee. Edmund's breath caught. He reached out slowly and touched the thick fur behind its ear. The wolf did not flinch. It pushed its head into his palm and let out a low, gentle sound, almost a sigh. For the first time in a year, Edmund felt a living weight settle against him. His tears kept falling, but they had changed. He stayed like that until his legs stopped aching. Then he understood something. The wolf had found him. He had been dragging his tired body down the same path, but a creature this shy would never follow a limping stranger back to a cabin it had never seen. Trust took more than a scratch behind the ear. It took a reason to come closer. Edmund remembered the storeroom in his cabin. Soft blankets. Colorful balls. Tins of tasty morsels his wife once bought for a cat they never got. He could gather all of it and lay it out along the path. A warm, welcoming spread. Something to draw a nervous creature near, day after day, until the distance between them shrank to nothing. He cupped the wolf's face. "Wait for me," he whispered. "I'll bring you something." The wolf watched him rise. Edmund gripped his cane and turned back toward the cabin, slower than he liked, but no longer aimless. He had a plan now, and a reason to hurry. Behind him, the young wolf stood, took one step onto the path, and followed at a careful distance.