Wolf Pelt: A Fairy Tale Retold

All the best stories come from long ago, and this is one such story. This is my retelling and re-imagining of it:

There once was — or there once was not — a story, in the oldest days and ages, in a land so far away it was beyond seven mountains, beyond seven rivers and beyond seven forests. It was a time unlike any since, a time when the aspens grew apples, the willows produced lilies, and the animals would throw themselves toward the skies to bring back stories from the back of beyond.

This tale starts with a man: Not old, not young, a man in his prime. He is a solitary soul, living in a crude dwelling in the forest outside the town. He hunts for his sustenance, but he also hunts for the pleasure and power of his prowess, for the dark joy of utterly conquering another being. So he lives alone, occasionally going into town for provisions, and to hear whatever news the villagers might have to share. He wants to find a wife or companion, or at least a woman to satisfy his needs, both the practical (as in housekeeping) and the physical. However, his strangeness causes the villagers to keep their daughters away. He is not a good man.

His days are spent walking through the forest, seeking prey. And so he came to spy the most unusual wolf he had ever seen. He had heard rumours and stories about wolves who were in some way enchanted, shape-shifters, and who possessed some kind of fairy glamour. He begins to hunt this new prey differently. It is no longer enough merely to kill his quarry; he wants to own it, possess it, and have the power to be master of its body and soul.

Let us leave the man for a moment, and let the story continue with a wolf that is not merely a wolf.

The wolf is a female. She is neither old nor young; she is ageless, renewing herself through oceans of time. She has no recollection of her parents or of being a cub. Unlike the other wolves, she does not travel or hunt in a pack. She is aloof and alone, self-sufficient in her deep knowledge of the wilderness. Yes, she has mated many times, and has had many offspring, but once her duty as a mother was completed, she would return to her comfortable solitude.

Her wild beauty is otherworldly. Her silky thick coat is a shimmering shade of white and soft grey, like the underbelly of a dove. She has eyes of a deep tawny amber, intense and wary; the colour of dusk. Her limbs are long and strong, her muscles sinewy and limber. Her pads are sturdy and thick, and she moves along the forest floor with nary a sound. She is magnificent. She is an apex predator, with few serious enemies. Still, she is wary of bears, mountain lions, and other wolves. But mostly she avoids man.

Lately, as would happen from time to time, she is experiencing deep compelling desires. Her inner nature is thrumming through her body, reminding her to allow all of her being to share in life. You see, this lovely wolf was not like the others: she is a chimera, a shape-shifter, a dual entity, part wolf and part human.

Her human side is whispering in her soul, urging for release and for the chance to savour life as she has many, many times before. Despite the danger in even briefly shedding her skin, it is time.

She had seen the man tracking her for weeks. While he followed her, she also observed him. Should she reveal herself to him? She isn’t yet sure.

Meanwhile, the man continues to follow this truly magnificent lone she-wolf. He remembers the legends of shape-shifters and wolf-women. He recalls hearing that if he could catch the wolf while in female form and hide the pelt she would shed in the process of becoming human, he could be master of her body and keep her for his own.

With that in mind, he begins to formulate a plan. He will build a fire in his hearth, then make of show of leaving his dwelling. He has constructed a small, secret back entrance to the hut, and if he can lure the wolf into the home, he could furtively return, unobserved, to snatch the pelt she may shed. Then she will be his alone, for all time.

It has been snowing and sleeting for weeks, and the wolf, despite her thick fur, is cold to the bone. She sees the hunter leaving his dwelling and forgetting to close his door. Inside is a welcoming fire. What harm could there be to enter, shed her soggy pelt, and stretch out before that beckoning fire for a brief moment?

Warily she enters, padding softly into the small room. Seated before the fire, she sings the words “skin off”. Immediately her pelt leaves her body, and she is lying naked next to the warming fire. She hangs her pelt over a nearby rafter for it to dry, and she stretches out luxuriously near the flames, The pleasure of the warmth of the fire and being in human form after so very long is narcotic. She falls fast asleep.

Meanwhile, the hunter has stealthily returned. He watches with wonder and desire, seeing that the legends were true. As a wolf she was superb, but as a woman she is a treasure beyond compare. He is aflame. He has to have her, body and soul.

Quietly, quietly he creeps towards the fire and in the flickering light, he reaches for the pelt. He takes the soft, warm fur, and carries it towards the back of the dwelling. There, quickly, with a hammer and nails, he hurriedly and decisively fixes the pelt fast to the wall.

When the hammer nails her pelt to the wall, the wolf-woman awakens in pain and alarm. She screams “skin on”, but the pelt is held fast in place, and the hunter lunges for her. He holds her firmly, and she now knows this man will become her mate. This was not what she wants. All the times before, she had always chosen. She had never been the captive. She had never been prey.

The man ties her down and begins to fashion a rope and leash which he loops around her neck and affixes to a sturdy support beam in the centre of the room. She has nowhere to go. She is bound to him, imprisoned in this cramped dwelling.

And so a year of captivity and servitude passes. He hunts and brings her food to cook, and he sleeps with her every night. Eventually the wolf woman finds she is expecting a child. And when the time comes, she labours and delivers that child on her own.

The child is a human male, but she knows he is a chimera like her, and that his pelt will grow from hers. But her pelt is hidden away.

The child grows. He loves his captive mother and longs to see her free. When he is old enough to converse with his father, he casually asks what had happened to the wolf pelt that used to hang nailed to a beam. His father replies that he sold it to the local priest.

The boy tells his mother, and they devise a plan. The boy will sneak into the church, find the pelt and bring it home while his father is out hunting. His mother assures him that once he does this, all will be well.

The boy does as his mother asked. She tells him to hide the pelt under her sleeping pallet, to wait for the father to return home, and to say nothing.

The father returns after hunting, and the three eat their dinner. Then, suddenly, the woman stands and cries “skin on”. The pelt immediately covers her, transforming her back into a wolf. The rope and leash about her neck are broken. Quickly she looks at her son, who nods in comprehension. He, too, cries “skin on”, and a part of his mother’s pelt detaches, and covers the man-child. He also becomes what his nature intended.

The wolf is an apex predator, only fearful of man when he is armed. But the man has no weapons at hand. The two wolves, mother and cub, with glinting eyes the colour of dusk, fall upon him.

When all is done, they gracefully lope out towards the forest, singing, howling joyfully at the moon.

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