Taming the wild man

Night howled down as trees swayed and clouds swirled low over a landscape undulating in outline and whitened. In the distance a wolf raised its being to the moon. Snow-flakes flurried around a little fire trying to rob the crackling spitting life from it. The dried branch broke with a loud snap then the man threw the pieces onto the flames which devoured them hungrily, sparks rose heavenward.

A stone’s throw away was a log cabin, it rose out of the cold ground like a dark monster. The man was talking to himself as he huddled beside the fire’s heat.

“If she don’t let me in soon I’m gonna freeze. Why does she have to be so stubborn?”

A log exploded sparks over the man and he jumped up shaking them off then looked at the cabin as another howl came from the wolf beyond the firelight.

A break in the cloud momentarily showed a full moon surreal, mocking white and reflecting radiance. The man looked at the moon, its light encapsulating the landscape. He threw back his head and gave a howl that equalled the wolf’s howl from moments before. It was echoed from the night.

“There’s always someone to talk to,” he said, sitting back down close to the fire. It sputtered back at him its answer.

“I’m gonna freeze out here,” he shouted at the cabin. There was no reply.

In the cabin the woman was making dinner over a hot stove and talking to herself.

“Why did I agree to come to such a god forsaken place as this?” she said as she slapped dough onto flour and kneaded it roughly.

“Damn him and his wilderness.”

She threw the dough into a greased tin and put it to rise by the oven. Next she set the table, starting by laying a plate at either end of the small but well-made table.

“I just want to go back to civilisation is all I said, but oh no, this is what he wants, this is his home.” She placed a candle in the middle of the table and a napkin by the plates.

“My dream he said, huh, some dream, no shops, no-one to talk to, no decent food unless he catches it or grows it himself, and I’ve got to wash the clothes in the river. The river! For heaven’s sake. I’m going wild.”

The pots simmered on the stove, the paraffin lamp threw dancing shadows, and the wind whistled outside as the woman sat down in a rocking chair and picked up her knitting.

“It’s not fair. Why did I have to marry a wild man? Why couldn’t it have been a banker or a politician with a big centrally heated house? I could have had social dinners and friends. Well he can stay out there until I’m ready.”

Outside by the fire the man was still talking to the wind.

“Why are women so contrary? The most beautiful creatures on the planet and I’ve got the most beautiful one, and all she can do is complain: no this, no that, nowhere to go, too much to do, no-one to talk to; and this morning she asked for liquorice, now why would she ask for liquorice? I’m hungry, I wish she would let me in.”

From beyond the boundaries of the fire’s light the howl of the wolf startled the man from his reverie.

“She’d better let me in soon is all I can say.”

Rocking back and fore in the chair the woman remembered the day she and Henry met.

“My darling, you’ve cut yourself. Here, let me help you.” Said Roger delicately taking Letitia’s hand and running cold water over it from the tap in the kitchen.

“The wine bottle broke at the neck.” Said Letitia. “It’s only a little cut.”

“That’s all right dear, I can fix it.” Said Roger enjoying himself.

The hostess who was hovering near-by came even nearer, her overpowering perfume preceding her. Letitia felt like turning and running from the house. Instead Letitia put on a brave face and let herself be administered to by two she wouldn’t like to be caught dead with in the graveyard, or any other place come to think of it she thought.

“There, how’s that dear?” said Roger tying tight the ends of the bandage on Letitia’s finger.

“Fine thank you,” said Letitia.

“Maybe I could do something,” said the hostess, who was a stock-brokers wife and a pain in the wrong place.

“If it’s all the same to you I think I’ll go look at your gold-fish or hire some dynamite,” said Letitia pushing her way through the small crowd hampering her way out.

“Who is she with?” asked Roger to no one in particular.

“A friend of a friend,” said the hostess.

“You’d have to be careful taking her to dinner,” remarked Roger.

Letitia went into the garden, tears in her eyes. She walked past people milling about and laughing who seemed like ghosts in a dream. A bright hot sun shone down overhead as the band played on the bandstand.

Fish swam in a clear pool of tropical-like water with shibumpkins and bottom feeders and Japanese koi that wallowed like monsters amongst all the other smaller fish seemingly free.

Letitia sat on the edge of the pond staring at the water’s reflection of clouds and trees. She daydreamed about a man who would appear and take her away from everything.

“Why so alone?” said the man coming into focus from the water’s reflection.

Letitia gasped as she looked up into the deepest of deep blue eyes that looked into hers with a sincerity that captured her heart and soul. She fell in love with him then, and after a whirlwind romance they were married and he took her to the end of the earth, or so it seemed to her.

The wolf walked into the firelight, unafraid. It stared at the man with unblinking dark slitted eyes. Man and wolf surveyed each other, neither moving. The tableau, as if frozen in time was portrayed by the flame of the fire throwing their shadows huge upon the bark of the trees. A hardly perceptible whine came from the wolf as it settled down on its haunches, never taking its eyes from the man, snowflakes melting on its warm black coat. The man’s eyes glazed over as he thought back in time to the day of the party when he met Letitia.

All of these people and not one to talk to. Not one to relate to in any way. Why did I let John talk me into coming here? Do me good he said. Meet some people for a change instead of always being the bloody out of bounds loner he said. I like being by myself, I can hear myself think, no confusions, no-one to twist me up so I don’t know if I’m coming or going. First thing tomorrow I’m catching a plane out of here back to my cabin. I should never have left.

“Henry! There you are, hiding away are you?” shouted John from amongst a group of people by the swimming pool.

“Nowhere to hide here John,” Henry shouted back.

“Come on over and meet some of the girls,” shouted John.

Henry walked slowly towards the group weighing up responses but decided to just be himself. He could see that John was enjoying himself immensely, standing close to a gorgeous blond, and two doll-like models.

“Don’t be afraid Henry, they don’t bite,” said John as Henry came up to them.

“They look pretty ferocious to me,” said Henry as he joined the circle.

“This is Amanda,” said John putting his arm around the tall blond, “she’s mine, and this is Tracy…”

“And I’m Anita,” said the third female in a voice so falsetto she could have been on helium.

“Hi, I’m Henry,” said Henry offering his hand to each in turn.

“John’s wild friend from the mountains,” squealed Tracy.

“Not so wild really,” said Henry.

“Oh, what’s it like living up in the mountains with no-one to talk to?” asked Tracy. Before he could answer, Amanda burst out:

“Do you wear long johns?”

“Actually,” began Henry.

“He’s such a scream,” cried Anita.

They all burst out laughing, except Henry, who just felt cold.

So empty, he thought, how do you talk to them? Is there anything real in their pretty heads? And John’s no help. All these years we’ve known each other, from Everest to that Pole expedition, then Africa, now he’s a socialite and I’m the wild man, the outsider.

“Where’s the toilet John?” asked Henry looking around.

“Up at the house old man,” said John playing with his girl.

“I’ll see you later then,” said Henry making off.

“Do come back mountain man,” shouted one of the girls. They all laughed at Henry’s back as he walked away.

“First thing tomorrow I’m gone, he said to himself as he drifted through bodies as if in a silent movie. I can survive in the middle of the wilderness, walk all day without getting tired, feel at home in a place without people, be myself, but five minutes in this and I’m lost.

He walked to the far side of the garden and came upon a pond, it was quiet and peaceful. At the edge of the pond sat a young woman, her hand in the water stirring ripples. Her head was lowered looking somewhere into the pond. As he walked up close to her and the pond, her head came up and they looked into each other’s eyes. All was still but for the fish, drifting just below the surface of the pond. In the background, where people should have been buzzing, there was a dream, a dream forgotten; it rose and captured them and all else was lost to it. Their hearts joined as one and their fate was sealed.

So away they flew to Henry’s log cabin, far from anything she had ever experienced before and weeks turned into months, summer turned into winter. For him it was home. For her it was a complete new way of life. While the sun shone hot in summer everything was idyllic, but when the winter closed in around her, thoughts turned to more comfortable things, of a life left behind, of what could have been.

Doubt set in, cold and discomfort reinforced it. She became insecure and voiced her feelings to return to what she knew best. Her feelings were met by his seeming uncaring attitude. Then one night her temper rose and she pushed him out the door.

“If you like the wilderness so much, go live in it but don’t expect me to join you.”

She slammed the door and bolted it and paid no heed to his hammering. Eventually he went away to light a fire and huddle over it. She occupied herself making food.

The wolf let out another whine, knowing something was wrong.

“Don’t you fret boy, she’ll let us in soon.” Said Henry to the wolf.

Snow swirled thick and overwhelmed the fire. It gave one last little hiss and went out.

“The fire’s gone out,” remarked Henry shivering. The wolf whined in sympathy.

“I’m gonna freeze now,” said Henry, looking towards the house.

Letitia took the hot pot from the oven, carried it to the table. She gave a little start as something kicked inside her. She put her hand to her belly and smiled.

“Better let him in I suppose,” she said, taking one last look at the well-laid table: the candle danced and shimmered, the hot-pot steamed. A bottle of wine stood in the middle of the table de-corked.

“Yes, it’s time.” She said unbolting the door and pulling it open. Snow flurried in and a freezing wind pushed them across the floor.

“Oh god, he must be frozen. What was I thinking of, putting him out into this. Henry, Henry, where are you Henry?” she screamed at the night his name and all her anxiety and her love.

“Henry, Henry, where are you Henry?”

“See, I told you she’d let us in soon,” said Henry getting to his feet. The wolf growled, then whined and rose up as the man did, and loped off towards the cabin.

“Henry, Henry, where are you? Screamed Letitia into the driving snow and darkness. She was standing in the doorway as Henry and the wolf appeared from out of the driving snow.

“Letitia, you’re gonna be the death of me one of these days,” said Henry appearing from the amorphous blackness.

Letitia ran and flung her arms around him.

“I thought…” she began.

“Hush my love, I understand now what you must be going through. If you really want to go back to the city then I’ll take you in the spring.”

Henry said this while looking into her eyes.

“Henry, if this is what you want then it is what I want too. I was wrong. I couldn’t live back in the city, not without you. And I know you could not live there and be happy.”

“You’ve made a meal,” said Henry spying the food on the table.

“We’ve got something to celebrate,” said Letitia pulling Henry into the warmth of the cabin and shutting the door.

Much later, as the candle sputtered out on the table the wolf whined once in its sleep.

Image from Pixabay

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Further reading: https://steemit.com/alone/@wales/shelf-life-of-an-onion-slipping-deep-in-the-darkness