As
he approached, he realized that she still had not heard his
footfall. As often as Orsino liked a nap, he liked a prank and
thought to surprise her. At the last moment, he called out her
name, “Larosa!” but such a wretched and violent sound
that came from his mouth was more like a dog caught in a snare
than his own voice. Larosa, turned quickly and sprang back screaming,
dropping her bundle.
She cried out, ‘Wolf! Wolf!”
her arms and legs whipping wildly as she ran off towards the
farm.
Orsino, shocked, stood silent. He turned,
looking every direction, fearing his cousin did see a wolf.
He saw nothing. His heart thudded against his chest. Had the
wolf appeared and run into the woods after Larosa cried out?
Was it lying in wait for him in the nearby grass? He kept an
eye on the grassy clearing and bent to gather Larosa’s
dropped bundle. He fumbled with the package and looked down
to better his grasp. That was when he saw his hands were no
longer there. In their place were fur covered fists, more like
paws than hands. His forearms too, were covered in a chestnut
fur. Orsino ran back to the stream where it followed the edge
of the road. He looked into the slow running waters and saw
his own eyes peering through the face of a wolf. |
He
pawed his cheeks, trying to claw off the unnatural mask but
he could not. Orsino whimpered and howled and sniffed the dirt
of the road. He circled Larosa’s dropped bundle as though
it were an artifact of the waking world. He hoped the dream
would end at any moment, but it did not. Then he remembered
the Nymph and her angry words. Again, Orsino cried out and lay
on the road. He knew this was her retribution. How had someone
so beautiful been so cruel?
Frightened, Orsino decided to
continue on to his grandmother’s. Surely, one of her age
and wisdom could help him. Again, he began to run, only this
time, on all four legs.
Orsino arrived at his grandmother’s
darkened home. It was dusk and he hoped the dying light would
hide his form. He clawed and whined at the door. There was no
answer. Standing on his hind legs, he forced the door open.
Though the house was dark and quiet, he could sense his grandmother
was near by. The day’s last streams of light fell through
the windows and led him into the hallway. He followed her scent
along the floor, even though he knew this place like the back
of his hand. Or at least, what was once his hand. >> |
