Deep inside a dark forest there is a clearing with the vast sea of trees bordering it on one side and a large stone cliff rising up on the other on the border. Young grass spreads out on the ground of the clearing like a soft bright green carpet, forever cool and damp from the dew of the night before.

A small waterfall runs down the cliff, making a pool surrounded by the grass carpet on one side of the clearing. The water is very clear and cold, having just melted from the glaciers above and run down to form the beautiful little fountain. A small stream runs from the pool and off into the dark forest, washing over long since rounded stones, and babbling, in a quiet murmur, a song of farewell to the clearing.

A silver wolf pads silently into the clearing in the heat of noon. Thirsty and sweat lathered the panting wolf drinks deeply of the clear water from the sunlit pool. She lies down in the forever dew damp grass, and comforted by the wonderful coolness she slips into sleep. When the wolf wakes up her misty blue eyes gaze up at the moon now shining
its light into the clearing, turning the grass as silver as the wolf’s fur and making small sparkling stars in the babbling clear water of the pool and stream. Turning her scarred muzzle up towards her mother, the moon, the wolf howled, singing with the stream and waterfall, her voice merging with the bubbling water song in a haunting midnight chorus.


A hunter bent and looked at the wolf print; this is they way it had come. He followed the tracks, silently as a shadow. His family was desperate for the meat; the wolf would serve to sustain his family.

He heard the wolf howl and rushed forward, putting an arrow to the bow, ready to shoot. Jonathon burst out of the trees into a clearing with a stream that glowed silver in the moonlight. In the middle of clearing, the wolf sat, lowering its head after howling to look the hunter in the eye.

When Jonathon’s eyes met the wolf’s the creature shimmered, and no longer sat in front of him. Instead, there stood his half sister, Jeanne, in a sparkling silver dress, her black hair falling down her back in a shower of pure shadow, shining in the moonlight. Jeanne and her mother had died of fevers the winter before.

Tears leaked down Jonathon’s face, and with a cry he loosed the arrow, wanting to rid himself of the vision of his beloved half sister. she was dead!


The arrow struck and with a yelp the injured wolf fled the clearing, leaving a trail of grass stained red. Breathing heavily, Jonathon followed slowly, the wolf was injured now, and he almost had it.

He followed the wolf as it circled back to the clearing howling to its mother, the moon, to help it. Finally, he found it lying in the grass of the clearing, panting in exhaustion and pain. He readied the arrow to finish it.

Just as Jonathon shot the second arrow a white stag bounded into the arrow’s path, falling to the ground with a pierced heart. He stared, unbelievingly, at the dead creature, and then looked at the wolf.

Once more Jeanne stood before him, smiling, and her white dress stained with blood flowing from her leg. A silent, ringing voice that could’ve belonged to the moon itself, but vaguely reminded him of the voices of both his step mother and half sister, sounded around the clearing. Take the meat, brother, and leave here. We died for lack of food to strengthen us in our time of need, be sure that that happens to no one else in our family.

Unsure, but happy, he bent to the stag, slung it over his broad shoulders and walked away, smiling when the wolf’s howl rose into the air, thanking its mother for sending the stag that had saved its life, and the lives of Jonathon’s family that remained.