I was walking up a path in the hills above a large lake. It was fall and there was a chill in the air
as I rested beneath an ancient pine tree. Suddenly I noticed next to me an old indian chief. He
spoke, and an atavistic fear caused the hair to rise on my neck. I realised that I had answered, yet
neither of us had moved our lips. He told me that he waited for the great wolf, and that I was welcome
to wait with him. After we had rested there for a time, I saw a form moving through the underbrush
towards us. As the form came closer, I saw the largest wolf I had ever seen. Again a chill
came over me as I noticed that he was pure white, and again without moving, the chief spoke. "It is
time. He has come now my friend." The wolf had stopped just a few paces from us as if
waiting for something. Then the chief arose and strode off with the white wolf leading the way.
I watched them go until they passed over the top of the hill and disappeared from view. Strange
thoughts and half-forgotten racial memoriessurged through my mind as I watched them leave.
It was only then that I noticed that the chief was still sitting beside me. I spoke but he did not
answer, and I realised that my friend had left with the white wolf, and that I had been privileged
to wait with him. I felt a pang of sorrow then, but it was for myself not my friend. I knew though that one day the White Wolf would come for me.

©Richard