Ol' Flint the Crow

An Introduction to a Wolf's Tale

"So this is it then..." Samuel whispered to himself miserably. "The end of my story has come..."

The minstrel kicked his foot forward in annoyance, causing a cloud of red dust to leap up. Flint was not coming. Why would he? The bird probably blamed the flute player for getting himself into the blunder in the first place. And if the crow would not help him Miss Bleak would not bother with a rescue mission either.

Samuel knocked the back of his head against the wall of the den. To help calm his nerves, he pulled out the notes with the lyrics of Flint's new song. Humming while he composed, Samuel felt a peaceful rush throughout his body in spite of his circumstances. Music always did that for him. Even at his most desperate times a little soothing music could lift his spirit.

Jotting another line down with the pen dancing in between his fingers, Samuel suddenly felt a tickling in his back warning him that someone was behind him. He expected the jailer at any moment to confiscate his writing equipment so he hid them behind his back and looked around.

His head bounced up in surprise when he saw that the female wolf was there gawking at him and his writing tools. Feeling a little at ease, Samuel figured it was alright to show the mother wolf the notes and pages since she seemed to be more interested in them than wanting to take it away from the him.

The wolf stared at the human while her injured jaw sagged to one side of her face. She then barked at the jailer who bounded a foot up in the air, having not realized her arrival. Nervously wagging his head up and down like he was apologizing for his poor watch over the prisoner, the frightened wolf whined and slumped his head in shame.

Tapping the shivering wolf on the top of his skull softly with her paw, the female relieved him of his duties and took watch over Samuel. A little hesitant at first, still expecting punishment, the jailer slowly walked away with its tail tucked beneath him.

Once the jailer ran off, the female looked back at Samuel and kept her eyes fixed on the pen and paper he clenched. She curiously stuck her head out in order to read what the minstrel was writing down. The wolf seemed so interested in the notes that Samuel, puffed up with pride, thrust the papers closer for her to read.

The wolf's eyes flashed across the pages, and before Samuel could flip over to the next paper, she was already done and thumping her hand on the floor, begging to read more. In only a few minute the mother finished Samuel's rough draft of the sequel to Flint's woeful song.

With a sigh, she extended out a claw and started writing on the dirt the words, 'It's beautiful.'

"Thank you... ma'am." Samuel grinned from ear to ear. He then nervously posed a question, "You write wonderful yourself. Where did you learn how to, if I may ask?"

The wolf's paw anxiously tapped the ground a few times until she at last found the gumption to answer. 'The Alpha. He gave me books Taught me to read and write. My vocal cords were not adequate for human speech. But my writing seems good enough.'

"Good?!" Samuel laughed heartily at the wolf's modesty. "You're great! I never knew an animal could do such a thing. Learning to speak a language is hard enough. Writing that language is even more difficult. And you're so eloquent with your words too!"

The wolf blushed. She tried to hide it by staring at the ground, but her tail spun in a big circle on its own.

After brushing away what she had first written with her paw, the mother wolf began a new sentence, 'Thank you.' Underneath these words she wrote, 'Is your song about the crow, Flint?'

Samuel nodded his head.

'It's tragic,' the wolf scribbled. 'I never realized how much he suffered. It makes me sad.'

Taking this opportunity, Samuel asked her, "Why does the Alpha hate Flint so much? I mean, animals have many offspring, don't they? Is he that thirsty for revenge that he would risk the lives of his entire family for one death. He has so many other pups, right?" Samuel was referring to the children that he had seen leaping over the Alpha and licking at his old face.

'Those are not his children.' The wolf slowly scribbled this down.

"Wait! What about your child? He's not his father?"

She shook her head as if it hurt her. 'No. The pup Flint killed was the Alpha's only child. He loved him too much.'

"Really? How strange for a wolf. So this Alpha must have had an interesting life." Samuel shivered as he said this. His heart fluttered at the hope that the wolf might disclose some information about the Alpha and Flint's fervent hatred for each other.

Stepping back, the wolf anxiously looked around as if almost afraid that someone could be watching. She barked at Samuel once, a soft and frighten bark, then dashed away. Samuel groaning for posing the question. He had pushed her too far and now what would she do? Tell the Alpha about this, Samuel thought.

However, the female wolf returned after a minute or two. In her jaws were rolls of brown parchment which she immediately offered to Samuel. He carefully took the papers in between the jail bars and unrolled them as they crinkled against his fingertips. The minstrel nervously gazed upon the wolf's document of her life story. Like reading the original manuscript of a famous novelist, Samuel shook with anticipation.

"A-are you sure I can read it?!" Samuel gasped.

The wolf nodded her head, and immediately the minstrel buried his face into the animal's personal memoir. It began with an introduction:

~

My race is dying. The Alpha cares not for our lives. All the others are too loyal or too afraid to stand up against him. What I write will be the only written record of our existence for others to remember us wolves by. I write in the language of the humans since my culture has no written form of communication that can fully express what I have to say.

I transcribe to you what has befallen the wolves at the tyrannical hand of the Alpha and his ongoing hatred for the crow that murdered our son. Our extinction is nigh. I pray that something changes, for my sons' and daughters' sake. However, I fear it may be too late. My oldest daughter loves the Alpha more than me.

So if this be our final mark on the world, I hope that whoever may read this will spread my story and keep the culture of wolves alive. If the humans will even want to read the tale of us wolves or even believe that a wolf could write, I do not know.

Nevertheless, I must write. I must tell all about the Alpha. His self-destruction that has trickled down upon his people. I will tell to you of the bird that has led us at death's door. Their all-consuming pride, I will tell to you. Those battling egos that has slowly destroyed us, I will document. For the sake of my children, I will be silent no longer. My pity for the Alpha is gone. This is my tale...