Wolves

Wolves don’t kill people. I learned that in university. Yeah, I took this class… the professor told us so. Throughout all of history, we’ve been more of a threat to them than they were to us. Did you know they used to live all through New Hampshire? Yeah man, serious. We wiped them out, though. Farmers didn’t like the way they would make a mess of the livestock. Gotta protect number one right? ... Anyways, that's what I kept telling myself. Wolves don’t kill people. I started hearing it pretty quickly on the hike towards the campsite. After about five miles, give or take. It would howl or grunt from a little ways off. Scary? No. Well, a little. But it kept its distance, mostly. I never saw the damn thing. Strange though. No reason for a wolf to be creeping around the White Mountains. I figured the poor b*****d must have been lost, a good long way from home. It went on like that for a few days. Sometimes I wouldn’t hear it for hours, and start to forget it was there. But it would make itself known eventually. Noise travels from a long way off in those woods.  It didn’t seem to respect me as much whenever I would bed down for the night. I would hear it right along the tree line, shuffling and snuffling around. I figured it was probably hungry and smelled my food, but I would always tree it. I just sorta got used to it after a while.  Wolves don’t kill people, after all. I can smoke in here right? Thanks officer. Like I was saying. These distant sounds just became routine. An invisible partner for my trek, keeping me company. Until that last night. I was in my tent, drifting off. It had been a long day down the mountain and I was exhausted. I heard the… wolf shuffling around camp again. But it got real close this time, right up to the tent. Put me on edge. I repeated my mantra to myself. Wolves don’t kill people. I sat up as I heard it start to come around to my side, where my head was layin. It paused there. Then it clears its throat, and coughs. Just like you or I would. Wolves don’t do that, that’s for damn sure. I can’t describe the feeling. Like my world was crumbling in around me, like I had a meathook in my gut dragging me down. My body and mind hated what I had heard, like every cell was vomiting at once. I could barely whisper when I tried to sound tough. I flicked on a little LED lantern I had next to me. I wish I hadn’t. In pale light it illuminated the side of the tent and I saw a… person's… face pressed in the fabric. They were grimacing, completely enraged. They held their hands up on either side of their head, fingers pointed into claws with the nylon stretched tight around them. I screamed like a girl. Couldn’t help it. You would, if you were there. That hateful mask turned into a smile, pulling away. It was laughing. More of a giggle, really. I heard leaves crunch as it moved towards the opposite wall, the one with the zipper. On all fours. I sat there paralyzed. No, no questions. Just let me finish, please. Must have been hours I sat there. Entranced with this sick thing. Dreading hearing the first teeth split by the zipper. Dreading hearing velcro tear open. It never opened the tent. Never even peeked inside. Eventually it just… walked away, on two feet. I sat until the sun came up. Didn't get a wink of sleep. What? Did he ever speak to me? Just once, right before it left. It said I’m sorry. He sounded sad, like he was just crying.