I’ve never been more confused in my life. Alright, I know I haven’t lived very long, but for me I’ve lived the longest I’ve ever lived before. And in all my years (two) of living, I’ve never felt like I’ve had my brain pulled out of my ears, scrambled about and shoved right back in, like I do now.

Every time I look at the wolf, she looks away. Then, when I look away, I’m certain I can see her staring at me again from the corner of my eye. Is that a – a hunting thing? A… game? She stays hugging the ground, blowing bubbles in the water, and makes no move to come and attack me. Maybe she’s just trying to lull me into a false sense of security, but I’m starting to think not. I take a hesitant step forwards.

As she considers my question silently, my heart hammers in my chest. Why is this taking so long to answer? She really has to think that much about whether she wants to eat me??

The answer, when it comes, is simultaneously the most terrifying and relieving thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

“No! I mean yes! I mean…” I take a breath. “I don’t want you to eat me. We can – we can play.”

Play with a psycho, sure. Anything to keep the psycho happy.

I pad forward in the water, not entirely confidently but confident enough to unfreeze my limbs. It’s only as I’m moving forward and more of my body is lifting above the surface that I realise how cold it is. That ice which was burning my throat? Yeah, now it’s burning me all over. Uncontrollable shivers rack my body as I sidestep, trying to move around the weirdo wolf to keep a little bit of distance between us. The mud squelches between my toes, making me slip and slide a little, as I pull myself back up onto dry land next to her, still eyeing her warily. Should I tell her my name? Telling a psycho your name doesn’t seem like a great idea but on the other hand, if I make myself seem as personable as possible then she’s less likely to change her mind about eating me.

“Er,” I say, licking my lips nervously, “I’m Lefty.”

LEFTERIS
homeless two year-old cub. bugs suck.