Wear Wolf

 

 this is the one my editor demanded when she was feeling low and in need of entertainment. As you can see I'm backsliding and fulfilling some Polish withdrawal symptoms.

 

Wear Wolf

 

Klemens jumped on his brakes when a white shape dashed out of the black, stark, winter woods in front of his car. He had to work hard not to skid on the icy road, but he managed to stop without feeling the car touch anything. He got out of the car anyway to see what sort of animal he had almost hit.

To his amazement, he found at the front of the car a woman, with wild black hair, and otherwise stark naked, kneeling on the ground.

“Mother of God! What has happened to you?”

She looked at him with haunted eyes, so bright a hazel as to be almost tawny.

“Help me; he is chasing ...” she said.

“You’d better get in quickly, then, there’s a rug in the back seat to wrap yourself in,” said Klemens. He was glad of bulky winter clothes, she was a beautiful woman, and her nakedness had an inevitable effect on him.  He was glad that she leaped into the back seat of his old Skoda and wrapped herself with alacrity. He could hear the baying of a hound – a hound? Really? – as he got back in and started the engine. Soon they would be well away.

He was quickly back on the road, and glanced in the rear view mirror, making sure she could see his face so she would see he was harmless. 

“My name’s Klemens Laska,” said Klemens as they headed for the next town.

“A name of good omen,” said the woman. “You can call me Sylwia if you need a name for me.”

Klemens thought this an odd way of putting it, but if she was running away from someone, perhaps she was afraid to tell him too much.

“Do you feel able to tell me who it is that you flee from, and why?” he asked.

She shuddered convulsively.

“I don’t know his name and I don’t want to,” she said. “He smells  bad ... he wants me and he does not care what he does. He found my coat when I had taken it off to swim, and he will not let me have it back unless I sleep with him. But I think he will never let me have it back...”

Klemens looked into the rear view mirror to look at her, and her amber eyes burned with intensity. And there was another shape superimposed on her in the silver-backed mirror.

“You’re a wolf-woman,” he said, surprised at how calm he was and how easily he accepted something which should be legend.

Her eyes widened in fear.

“You guessed?”

“My mirror is silver backed, it’s an old one, a lucky talisman,” said Klemens. “Do not fear; I mean you no harm.  We must, however, get you some clothes while we consider what to do about the man who has your skin.”

“Why would you help me?”

“Sylwia, my family has stories about the atrocities of the Nazis during the war, and there is a wise saying. ‘They came for the Jews, and I said nothing. They came for my neighbour and I said nothing. When they came for me, there was nobody left to speak up.’ And to my mind, that’s a lesson to us to be tolerant of all. Sure, I’m scared of wolves; but I ask myself, is there any reason to be scared of a wolf who can speak, and who can listen to reason? Wolves are only dangerous when hungry and I am happy to get you food.”

“I am hungry,” admitted Sylwia. “I was looking to grab a chicken from that man’s hut. Just a chicken to keep hunger at bay.”

“Well, we’re nearly in town; I tell you what I’ll do, I’ll park somewhere quiet and get you some clothes, then we’ll go and grab some steak and then when you’re feeling better, we can plot. Uh ... you’re used to being human sometimes, right? So you’re happy with ...uh ... latrines?”

“I’m used to the amenities, yes,” said Sylwia. “My mother made me live with humans for a while so I would know their ways, mostly to avoid them.”

“A sensible er ...”

“She,” said Sylwia. “A sensible she.”

 

They soon reached the town, and Klemens parked in a darkish alley, near a convenience store which also sold some basic clothing.

Sylwia was pleased with the choices Klemens made for clothes, loose jog pants and a plaid shirt; her breasts were small and needed nothing fitted to support them. A loose sweater, socks and trainers completed her costume.

“If it takes us a while to get your skin back, you can get clothes you like,” said Klemens.

“I like these,” said Sylwia. “Do you like them?”

“Yes, but I picked what I thought would not be too uncomfortable if you are not used to clothes,” said Klemens.

“I think you are an unusual man,” said Sylwia.

The steak was only rare, but she had eaten cooked food before; she could live with it. And she was hungry. She wondered what he would do when he had her skin in his hands. All the legends of her people told how human men would hide wolfskins away to gain the best of brides. Apparently human legends told the same thing or that smells-of-lust-and-cruelty-man would not have held on to hers.

“I had an idea,” said Klemens. “I thought I would stop near where I found you and ask about a dark haired woman whom I unfortunately killed with the car, and took to the coroner in the next town.  If he thinks you are dead, he will not value your skin, and if I ask if he has furs for sale to make my wife a coat he might sell it.”

“You are wealthy, to buy furs?”

“No, but your need is greater than mine; I do well enough to get by and put aside some savings in the hopes of marrying one day. I would be selfish not to put right a wrong a fellow human has committed against you.”

“What is your job?”

“Oh, not very exciting; I am a farmer, but I also supplement my small income by accountancy for other smallholders. But if you ever came to visit, there would always be fresh meat.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you,” he blurted out, flushing.

“I do not understand ‘accounts’,” she said.

“Oh, it is important to know how much one spends, and how much one sells for and try to make sure the latter is bigger than the former, over the long run. And to pay taxes to the government for the facilities and things.”

“Like what?”

“Drains,” said Klemens. “Running pure water. And things like that.”

“Oh, I suppose they are worth having. And I understand the need to count. If one eats too many rabbits, they won’t have enough numbers to breed without getting sickly.  You have to understand these things.”

“It’s exactly the same, and other farmers pay me to count for them because I count better than a lot of people.”

She nodded.

“The one problem is that you wouldn’t kill me if you hit me,” she said.

“Not even if I had a silver St. Krzysztof medal on the front of the car?”

She blinked a few times.

“That could work. You don’t have a St. Krzysztof medal on the front of the car, however.”

“Not yet, but I will get one and wire it on.”

“You are thorough.”

“The aid of the  saint of travel never did a man any harm, anyway,” said Klemens.

 

***

Klemens pulled off the road when they got back to the place where he had picked Sylwia up. Sylwia refused to wait in the town where he had got their meal and her clothes, and hid under the blanket on the back seat. Klemens had instructed her to lock the doors in case the man’s hound was still around. He walked into the woods. Half an hour’s walking brought him to a wooden dwórek with barns, and several animals in pens or runs. A dog barked, and a man with a rifle came out.

“Be off with you; there’s nothing here,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have a wife or daughter with black hair?” asked Klemens.

The man stiffened.

“What’s it to you if I have?” he said.

“Well, if you do, you might want to sit down, as I’ve bad news,” said Klemens.

“Whaddya mean?”

“I ... oh please don’t point that at me, it wasn’t my fault!” cried Klemens. He did not need to act hard; he was decidedly nervous.

“What wasn’t your fault?”

“She ran into the road in front of me ... it’s icy ... I couldn’t stop any quicker ... what a freaky thing to happen, to be impaled on my St. Krzysztof ...”

“Bloody hell!” said the man. “It’s dead?” 

“She,” said Klemens. “You might get a visit from the police, though, the coroner wanted to know why she was naked, and I couldn’t tell him.  Bloody nasty fright for me, too, and I come back out of the goodness of my heart to break it to you, and you wave a gun at me. It wasn’t my fault, and my wife is going to kill me when I return without a fur coat for her, all the shops will be closed by the time I’ve returned and done all my business.”

The man looked cunning.

“I tell you what,” he said, “I’ll sell you a whole wolf pelt. Your wife will like that, won’t she? And she can have it made up however she likes.” He smiled a nasty smile, and went out muttering. Klemens had sharp ears, and heard him say, “And when that bitch recovers and breaks out of the morgue, her skin will be no use to her and she will have no choice.”

Klemens dickered over the wolf skin and got it for considerably under the value of a cured skin of such suppleness.

He walked back to the car, able to unlock it with his key, and tossing the skin into the back.

“I’ll drive on a way and you can let me know where you want to get out,” he said.

Sylwia’s tousled head popped up into view of the mirror as he drove off.

“Just like that? You give me my skin and let me go?”

“Sylvia, you are a being; what else am I to do?”

“Klemens, I think I might like to marry you ... but I would like to keep my skin. And I will help you herding animals.”

“I’m not stopping until I get home in that case; I want a long distance between us and that bastard.”

 

***

Klemens and Sylwia got married, and Sylwia sometimes went out with her skin at nights for long runs; and Klemens did not even notice the small item in the newspaper in which a forest farmer burned to death in his own dwórek.  Burning hid the marks of wolf jaws.

And because Klemens gave her the choice, Sylwia gave birth as a wolf to their four beautiful children, all of whom had the power to wear their skins or not as they chose. And his farm prospered and he and Sylvia became well off, and had a long and happy marriage. Klemens just chose not to kiss his wife until she had cleaned her teeth after she had been hunting, preferring minty fresh to the alternative.