The elderly wolf settles himself on a smooth stone by the water’s edge, lowering his aching paws into the cool stream. His fur is silvered and patchy, his eyes clouded yet still bright with memory. He sighs deeply, watching ripples drift outward, and the world seems to pause—a rare peace in the twilight of his years.
The deer moves with unhurried grace, each step deliberate and calm. Without a word, she kneels beside the wolf, her presence at once soothing and mysterious. She rests a tender hoof-hand on his shoulder, warmth radiating from the gesture.
"It is time,"
The wolf blinks, confusion flickering across his muzzle. His ears twitch, uncertain, yet he feels the weight of her touch—the invitation and the inevitability entwined.
The wolf hesitates, searching the deer's eyes for answers. His breaths grow steadier—first wary, then resigned, then tranquil. He nods, his jaw unclenched, and a small, grateful smile tugs at his lips.
"I suppose I've always known," he murmurs, voice low and thick with emotion.
"You have walked a long and honorable path. Come,"
With a gentle nudge, the deer helps the wolf rise, her movements careful, almost reverent.
The deer leads the wolf to the cookpot, arranging soft linen nearby. She begins to shave his fur with gentle strokes, her touch respectful, almost loving. Each sweep removes years of wear, exposing the wolf’s scars—testaments to a life fiercely lived. She washes him with warm stream water, cleansing not just his body but the burdens of his memory. The wolf sits quietly, eyes closed, surrendering to the care and dignity of this final ritual.
As warmth envelops the wolf, his senses sharpen—he feels the silky caress of water, the tang of wild thyme, the softness of linen against his skin. His heartbeat slows, and a profound relief washes over him. Inside his mind, memories flicker: running beneath moonlight, the thrill of chase, the ache of loss, and the peace of acceptance. He lets go, feeling himself dissolve into the comfort, the ritual, the meaning.
"At last, I am free," he thinks, emotions swirling with the steam above.
The cookpot’s aroma is layered—earthy, wild, bittersweet. The wolf’s story lingers in every note: the toughness he earned, the complexity of his spirit, the legacy of survival and grace. In the hush, his essence nourishes the woods, a final gift woven into the tapestry of dusk. The deer bows her head, whispering a silent prayer for the soul who shaped the flavor of the forest.
