She didn't know if her mother would come for her. She said a silent prayer that she would. She didn't want to believe the words. The blonde had spoken about her mother being selfish and self centered to be true. Her mother was a good person. She had a kind heart.
Of course the blonde wouldn't know that because of the environment they were in. Her mother was alive and would come for her, she convinced herself. Her stomach growled then, low and slow. She rested her right hand atop her belly to calm it. It was no use.
She was starving. She knew she had to eat something first. Then she would be able to tackle other tasks that needed to be carried out. Her gaze went back to the sleeping black wolf. It appeared to still be asleep.
It was badly injured and she wondered if it would become rabid. That would be her luck, she thought to herself. First, she was forced to become a pleasure girl alongside her mother. She almost died twice in one night. And now a rabid canine was stalking her.
It was badly injured and she wondered if it would become rabid. That would be her luck, she thought to herself. First, she was forced to become a pleasure girl alongside her mother. She almost died twice in one night. And now a rabid canine was stalking her.
She walked over to it, knelt down, and gently stroked it in between its eyes. "Rest friend.I will return soon." She whispered.
The wolf did not stirr. She grabbed her satchel, stood up, and left the house. Sylvie knew these parts of the woods like the back of her hand. She followed the meek sunlight and 10 minutes later, the forest opened up to a a stream with smooth gray rocks and boulders placed on both sides. When she was much younger, Sylvie had loved coming to this place.
After her mother's brutal attack this had become her home away from home. She had shed tears on these very rocks. The stream also gave to her and nourished her like a grandmother, or what she thought a grandmother would be. She had never had one. The stream washed her and feed her, giving her sustenance when her mother could not and no one else cared.
Looking back on it she wondered why no one had helped her or her mother. Sylvie wondered if that question would ever quiet in her mind. Maybe with more time and more years had passed, but her trauma was still fresh and being fed daily. She reached into her satchel pulling out a thin Clear wire with a hook at the end. She walked a few feet upstream, until she was standing directly over the pool, made by the small nine boulders that formed a U-shape.
She knelt down and placed her hand onto the ground feeling the earth beneath her. She began to disturb the topsoil and quickly found a juicy water bug which she stuck on her hook. She stood up, walked back over to the pool ,stood a few feet above it, and sank the wire with the hook into the water. At first, she felt nothing but the calming tug of the waters current. She held fast and minutes later she felt the line catch.
She had hooked a fish. She gently finessed the line and pulled the fish out of the water. It was a nice sized trout. She was proud of her accomplishment. She and her new companion could live to eat another day. She could tell by the clouds another heavy rainstorm was on the front.
She decided to keep fishing until she had four nice sized trout on the fish line. With her satchel over her shoulder and fish in hand, Sylvie walked back to the cabin. In the daylight it was worse for wear. She would have to find something to cover the windows. She knew there was much to do to this place.
She didn't mind. It took her mind off of what had just happened to her. She didn't want to think about how terrified she had been the last few days. She was free of the pain. Her mother was all she cared about.
She would find her she told herself, as she stepped up on the porch and opened the front door. The wolf hadn't moved. She hung the fish on nearby hook. She found an old wooden chair and smashed it to pieces. She then used it as firewood.
She made sure to stand by it after she lit it. A few minutes later, she began preparing the fish. There were no pots and pans. There were no plates or utensils. Sylvie improvised and used a skinny tree branch like a skewer and put the fish over the opening of the stove, slowly turning it.
Slyvie's stomach growled once more. With the smell of the fish wafting in the air that seemed to wake the wolf who did not get up from his lying position but did watch Sylvie cook. She noticed the closer the fish was to becoming done the more the wolf licked its chops. That made Sylvie feel better about being hungry and the wolf's condition. The wolf was showing a good appetite, which was a sign that it would be able to heal.
Once the fish was done she walked over with the skewer and sat down beside it. She had to watch it carefully. Its breathing was barely there. She took two of the cooked fish off of the skewer and placed them in front of the wolf's nose. The yummy aroma stirring the animal.
It lifted its head and in three bites chomped down the fish. Then licked the spot it had rested on. Once it had enough it let out a loud sigh and closed its eyes once more. Sylvie was shocked.
The wolf lifted its head and in three bites chomped down the scrumptious fish. Then licked the spot it had rested on. Once it had enough it let out a loud sigh and closed its eyes once more. Sylvie was shocked at how fast he had eaten it.
Sylvie began eating her portion. It was fresh and tasty. When she was done she threw the bones in the fire. She felt full for the first time in a long time. She stood up before she got too comfortable and went to the task of covering up the unshielded windows as best as she could with the meager resources she had.
She secured the last window. A loud rumble of thunder startled her. She had been right. The storm wasn't over. She went back inside of the cabin knowing she had one last task left to do.
She had to tend to the wolfs wound. She was dreading this task the most. She knew she was a very capable and resourceful young woman. She had survived on this wretched Island, practically on her own, and she would continue to. The wolf had been an unexpected companion.
It had saved her life and had somehow, in a very short amount of time, grown attached to her. She felt indebted to the creature. It was only right she helped get it back on its feet. Maybe it was like the old fortune teller story about the Lupin spirit. The Great Wolf Spirit, who would test the island inhabitants by turning into an injured Wolf seeking care and refuge.
Those who helped the beast would be blessed for the rest of their days. Those who harmed or turned a blind eye to the beast were never seen or heard from again. Terrible misfortune falling upon them and their family for generations to come. Sylvie wasn't superstitious and didn't believe in such things. She used an empty tin can and filled it with water. The she walked over to the wolf and sat down beside it.
She spoke to it then. "Y-You're going to have to trust me. If I don't clean that it could get infected and you could lose your leg or worse . I-I have to clean it. Please don't bite me." She opened her satchel and pulled out rags and a small jar of ointment she kept for emergencies.
She dipped one of the rags into the cool water, then gently placed the rag on the open wound of the animal. White fangs flashed along with a low, bone chilling growl. She knew she was causing more pain to the creature. She was waiting for the feel of his sharp teeth on her skin, but it did not happen. The growl was replaced by whimpers and Sylvie felt sorry for the wolf.
"I really am sorry about this." She whispered as she continued cleaning the wound.
She noticed darkened blood spring anew and she quickly wrapped it, frightened the wolf would lose too much blood.