I was walking in the rain when I saw the wolf. It was standing still at the edge of the woods, eyes sparkling in the dusk. I always thought wolves were like dogs, just larger, and I fear dogs, so that part was the same. I knew running would do me no good. My subconscious knew it too, since it froze my muscles—no running, even if I wanted to. I remembered someone had told me to squat if I saw a wolf, and gaze at it right in the eyes. I squatted, my galoshes squelching in the mud. Something awakened in me, a feeling engraved in my soul for eternity. The corner of the wolf’s eyes pointed down—a sad looking wolf it was, and dripping too, fur drenched. And in its eyes I saw a fierce predator ready to leap on prey, a carnivore, a merciless breed, me.
* * *THE WOLF by Anahita Ayasoufi,