The legend of the Celestial Wolf

December 27th, 2023

In the good old days, when men still feared nature, an old blacksmith lived at the outskirts of a town, not far from the forest. He lived a lonely life as his wife died and he had no children. Luckily, he was still strong and healthy enough to provide for himself.
One autumn morning, when the air smelled the approaching chill of winter, he found a baby on his step. The poor thing was crying, only one little fisted hand sticking out of the cloth it was wrapped in.

Horrified by the cruelty of such act, the man glanced around, but whoever abandoned the baby had left without a trace. Worried that the baby would catch the cold, the man took it inside.

Once in the man’s arms, the baby stopped crying, even its tiny fist relaxed.

Afraid that the child might have died, the man hurried to put it on his bed. But as he unwrapped it, he couldn’t help recoiling – the baby that lay inside the cloth was extremely ugly. The little boy’s face was grotesque, his back was hunched and his arms were disproportionately long. He stared at the old man through tears, as if expecting to be thrown away again.

The old blacksmith was a kind man. He had never killed a living being, and he could not let the little boy die, ugly or not. So he fed the boy and kept him.

When nature deprives us of some abilities, it always compensates it by making other abilities stronger. Although he was ugly, the boy was very strong and smart. He was quiet and tame, and learned from his caregiver simply by observing him. Soon he started helping the blacksmith, and the latter came to love him.

The old man feared though the reaction of other people at the boy’s appearance. For that reason, he kept the boy’s existence secret for as long as he could.

However, one day people found out anyway. The news of the boy’s ugliness spread through the town like wildfire. Men, women and children started coming to the old blacksmith’s house to see the boy only to curse and cruelly mock him. The old man did everything he could to protect his adoptive son from people’s meanness, but whenever he wasn’t looking, the poor boy was kicked, pelted, pinched, insulted and even spat at. He didn’t complain or seek revenge; he never hurt anyone. He was only doing his best to hide, to dodge and to run away.

But one particularly cold winter, the old blacksmith suddenly died. Heartbroken, the boy had no one to turn to. Alone, he went to dig the grave for the man who had been his everything. It was an arduous task because the ground was frozen, but the old man had always wanted to rest next to his wife, between two old apple trees. The boy wanted to grant his father his last wish at any cost. He dug the whole night and even more until his bleeding, frostbitten hands could no longer feel anything.

When he was covering the grave with earth, he heard angry yells and barking. The boy looked up and felt sick with fear – a small crowd of townsfolk was advancing on him, armed with axes, pitch-forks and knives.

“Kill the cursed hunchback, murderer of the blacksmith!”

He could feel hatred rolling in waves from them as they were getting closer. Even if his father were alive, he would have been completely powerless against so much anger and blood thirst. They even brought dogs with them, to chase him like a wild animal!

The boy dropped his shovel and ran for his life.

Running through the snow was difficult, but the boy was strong, and he knew his life depended on it. He ran like never before, almost flying toward the forest.

In the forest the snow was even deeper and soon the poor boy had plenty of it in his shirt and shoes. Still, he didn’t stop. He went as far as he could, then climbed on a tree to avoid dogs, and continued moving away from the town jumping from tree to tree, swinging on his long arms.

Soon the dogs were left behind and the forest around him went quiet save for the wind that howled in the bare branches of the trees. The boy allowed himself to stop and look around. He was deeper into the forest than he had ever been before. It was almost dark and he was cold, very cold. Frost formed on his damp clothes, making them stiff and uncomfortable. Above, the black, cloudless sky promised an even colder night.

Feeling weak, he slid down from the tree and fell into the snow. He was hungry and tired, his body shaking from strain and cold. But there was nowhere to hide and nothing to eat. Bitter tears ran down his frostbitten cheeks, burning his skin like fire. That was the end of him. He ran away from mean people only to die alone in the frozen winter forest. He was scared and miserable, hurting all over, body and soul, and, extremely lonely.

Little by little the frost numbed his senses, and he calmed down. He almost gave in to the eternal cold-induced sleep when he heard whimpering. He shook himself awake and listened. Someone whimpered in pain.

The boy crawled toward the sound and saw a young wolf. Its paw was caught in the iron clutches of a trap; the snow around it was all red with blood. The wolf was hurting and exhausted, just like the boy, but it could not free itself.

The boy was only seven; he knew wolves were dangerous to humans. But he was too tired to feel fear. He crawled to the wolf, and used the last of his strength to open the trap.

As soon as the wolf was free, the boy fainted.

He woke in a small dry cavern. The wolf was lying next to him, keeping him warm. It was so weak, it didn’t even growl.

Grateful for the wolf’s kindness, the boy tore a piece from his shirt and bandaged his savior’s wounded paw. Then he climbed out of the cavern and went looking for food. He felt responsible for the wolf’s life, and for some reason, it gave him strength.

There wasn’t much to eat in the cold winter forest – the boy ended up finding the trap that he set up again. He was careful to hide all the traces in case the hunter decided to come and check it. Then he searched the forest for any other traps. He knew nothing of hunting, but he was attentive and smart, and after several hours of searching, he found another trap with a dead rabbit in it. He brought the rabbit to the wolf and went searching for more.

Days passed. The boy lived in the cavern with the wolf, taking care of his new friend as best he could. He hunted with stolen traps, sometimes fished in the frozen lake. Once he even ventured back to his former home. There he took all the food he could find, some clothes and a couple of knives. Luck was on his side – he didn’t get caught, but he promised himself that he wouldn’t do it ever again.

While the wolf’s wound was healing, they got used to each other and learned to communicate. So when the wolf fully recovered and left the cavern, the boy went with it. He had nowhere else to go and no other friends in the whole world. Staying with wolves seemed the best idea, and after some time, the pack accepted him.

The boy found happiness with wolves. He learned to hunt with them, he played with cubs and did his best to help his new family avoid human traps and hunters. The wolves didn’t care about his looks, but appreciated him for his kind heart and brave spirit.

All went well, until one day men spoiled everything again. Unable to earn himself a reputation of a decent hunter, an arrogant noble announced that his lack of game was the fault of the wolves. As it usually happens with crazy but easy ideas, a good number of other men found it convenient to support this theory. So the wolf hunting begun.

Seeing the hunters closing on his wolf brothers, the boy did the only thing he could think of – he ran toward them, begging for help. The hunters halted and surrounded him instead. And just like that the boy found himself in the middle of his old nightmare.

The hunters tied him and took him back to the town. To look more impressive, they called out to everyone who would listen that they caught a demon. And it was easy to believe them – with his grubby torn clothes and tangled long hair in addition to his ugliness, the boy hardly looked like a human.

People looked at him with revulsion, just as mean as before. But the boy knew that he had saved his wolf-brothers and it warmed his heart, making all the punches, pokes and insults a little more bearable.

The boy was brought to the governor’s place. He didn’t know what story to tell, but he wasn’t even given a chance to try – a nosy woman who used to come to the blacksmith’s house recognized him.

He was thrown in prison immediately. As he sat there waiting to be tortured and executed, he overheard the hunters. They were leaving to hunt the wolves again. Their plan was terrible but efficient – to chase as many wolves as they would be able to a small valley surrounded by high rocks and then to set the valley on fire.

The boy couldn’t comprehend the sheer cruelty of it: the wolves hunted and killed to feed themselves, to survive, whereas humans wanted to kill, only to kill, just for the sake of it! But chained and locked as he was, there was nothing he could do for his family.

He only grunted and moaned as they tortured him and broke his bones; he only clenched his teeth as they dragged him to the yard where he was to be executed. But as soon as he was outside, he threw his head back and uttered a long mighty howl, a desperate cry of warning he could only hope his brothers would hear. All his strength, pain, worry, exasperation and love for his family – he poured it all into that one howl that shook everything and everyone around. Seized by sudden panic, curious on-lookers hurried away from the yard as if chased by the devil himself. The guards that held the boy dropped him and ran, followed by the executioner.

The boy fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. He didn’t stir as the night fell and the moon shone over him. He didn’t stir as his brothers wolves came and took him away, back to the forest. He was barely conscious. He didn’t know where they were taking him, but he felt light and happy because he was with his family, and because he knew they were safe. It was worth dying for.

The wolves brought him to an old, gray granite rock and laid him down on the moss. They licked his bruised face, showering him with love and gratitude that he had never received from humans.

“It’s so good to be a wolf!” the boy thought as he drew his last breath.

But the moment his soul rose up from his broken body, the old granite rock glowed with a faint blue light, and the body was no more. Instead there stood a beautiful celestial wolf, its pearlescent fur glowing in the sun with hues of blue, green, gold and purple.

The one who used to be an ugly hunchback looked at his new body in wonder as his brothers and sisters rejoiced with him

The Celestial Wolf and his pack settled in the valley by the magical granite rock that later became known as Combloux (Wolf Valley). He has been living there since then, leading and fiercely protecting his family. Few people remember his whole story today though, preferring to focus only on the fact that the Celestial Wolf is guarding the old granite rock that has the power of granting wishes.

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Categories: Miscellaneous