Galina stood near the dark pool, the cold water appearing gloomy and frightening. Her heart froze for a moment, then started beating again, dull and irregular, as if trying to break free from her chest.
Snowflakes, like tiny drops of celestial tears, melted on her face, falling onto her unbound hair and the parcel she held in her hands.
In that parcel, wrapped in an old wolf’s pelts, her son slept. He softly snorted in his sleep, peaceful and trusting, unaware of what was happening around him. Galina sobbed, and her heart clenched with bitterness. “Bit by bit, he turned out like an heretic!” raced through her mind as she remembered who was the cause of her misfortune.
The woman sank to her knees by the icy edge. The wind fell silent, as if shaken by the scene before her: mother, child, and water ready to accept a sacrifice.
Recent events whirled past Galina. Just a year ago, she had been an excellent student and the pride of her school. Happy and full of life, on one May day she was walking with her friends when she suddenly collided with a tall stranger with a backpack on his back. The girls laughed and ran on, while Galina, having lifted her head, met the gaze of the young man. His blue eyes, sparkling with laughter – in them, she seemed to drown.
“Geologist, a newcomer,” flashed through her mind. They met at a moment when the world seemed so simple and carefree. She was a seventeen-year-old Siberian girl, and he was a Moscow engineer-geologist who had come for explorations.
They talked for a long time, laughed, and he read her poems—not his own, but such touching ones, as if written especially for her, Galina.
Galina remembered how her cheeks flushed with embarrassment when he looked at her with his blue eyes. She felt that a spark had flashed between them, capable of lighting up the whole world. In the evening, as she went to sleep, she replayed every detail of their meeting in her mind and imagined how they would be together, how they would build a house and have children.
The fairy tale ended suddenly and abruptly. In early July, Sergey returned to Moscow, having finished collecting all the necessary samples. He did not say goodbye to Galina and left without explanation. Their brief romance in the taiga turned out to be merely a short episode in his life. Cheerful and tanned, he delivered the samples, reported on his business trip, and went on vacation with his wife and son to the Black Sea coast. He never thought of Galina again.
Unexpected news
And Galya kept roaming around the geologists’ camp, trying to find out anything about Sergey. The expedition leader, trying not to meet her eyes, finally told her that he couldn’t give Sergey’s address, because he had a family—a wife and a little child—and it wasn’t right to destroy that.
This terrible news struck the girl like a bolt out of the blue. Drooping her shoulders, she slowly trudged toward the village, but suddenly felt her head spin and found it increasingly hard to breathe. Soon, Galya lost consciousness and collapsed onto the grass…
Galya came to in the tent of the geological survey doctor. Before her stood a short woman-doctor with kind eyes and wrinkles on her forehead. Her gaze was full of concern.
“Such a child still!” the doctor thought. “I have a silly one like that in the city myself.”
“Better?” the woman asked, trying to calm the girl. Then she said:
“Well, dear, you are pregnant.”
At first, Galya didn’t understand what the doctor had said. She continued twirling a lock of hair around her finger, as if it could change the situation. However, suddenly it all sank in. The girl sank back onto the couch, unable to believe her ears.
“What?” her eyes widened.
“Well, why are you so agitated?” the doctor reassured her. “You’re not the first nor will you be the last. We, women, are destined by Mother Nature’s role—to give birth and raise children. Do you understand?”
Galya quietly got up and slowly left the tent, avoiding eye contact with the geologists.
She did not share her pregnancy with her grandmother and didn’t confide the secret to her best friend Tamara. Her heart seemed to freeze, and all her dreams of entering a theatrical institute, which she had cherished, crumbled like a house of cards.
Every day she woke up as if following a schedule, helping her grandmother around the house, yet her thoughts were far away. She would sit by the window for a long time, staring blankly at the path leading into the forest, silently, as if words might shatter her fragile world.
Grandmother Dunya, a wise and perceptive woman, soon guessed what was happening with her granddaughter. Cursing the “fickle capital guest” — Sergey — and all the visiting geologists in one breath, she began coaxing Galya:
“Don’t suffer! A boy will be born, he will grow up, and become your helper. I’m not too old yet; we will raise him. And if you meet a good man, he’ll marry you along with the child.”
Her words sounded consoling, and for the first time, Galina realized that a new life was beginning to grow inside her. She pressed herself against her grandmother’s knees and wept, while the old woman tenderly stroked her head, barely holding back tears herself. Life had not been kind to her either, and she had been left with a little child in her arms. And when her daughter grew up, she left behind a one-year-old granddaughter and disappeared into the endless expanses of Russia, never to be heard from again. The grandmother cared for the girl as best as she could, but couldn’t protect her, having overlooked her in some way. Time heals wounds, but it leaves scars in our hearts.
Dreams of performing on stage now seemed distant and unattainable; Galya couldn’t get a job—firstly because of a terrible bout of morning sickness, and secondly because rumors spread throughout the village. The village women pointed fingers at her on the streets, quietly laughing behind her back and casting condemning glances. Former classmates smirked when they met her, and friends stopped talking to Galya. Even Toma, blushing with embarrassment, whispered as she left: “My mother forbade me from coming to you… Oh, Galya, how can it be…” And, sobbing, she ran away.
Then, suddenly, Grandma Dunya died. One morning she stepped out into the entrance hall, sat on a bench, and never got up again.
Galya gave birth the day after the funeral. They didn’t manage to get her to the hospital, and the snowfall was such that neither car nor sled could pass. A neighboring veterinarian’s wife delivered the baby, saying there was little difference between a woman giving birth and an animal.
On the last day of February, Galya became the mother of a healthy, loud-voiced little boy. The woman who assisted with the birth, upon leaving, said:
“Look at that, the tiniest one, but she’s given birth to a hero.”
After the door closed behind her, Galya wept womanly, lonely, and resigned…
She stepped closer and looked at the black water. It would be better to end this miserable life right away. Now everything would be over, and she and her son would leave this once kind, but now hostile and cruel world forever.
The She-Wolf
Illustrations for the story “Son of the She-Wolf” are created by the author
An exhausted, gray-haired she-wolf lay in the snow, pressing her belly against it. The cold wind pierced through her fur, but she paid it no mind, focusing instead on the glittering icicles hanging from the pine branches. Thirst flared up inside her like a fire, and she licked the icy droplets, trying to quench it. This day was especially hard: returning from a hunt, the she-wolf discovered two frozen wolf pups — the last litter. The biting frost of the night had done its work. She had tried for a long time to warm them, nudging them toward their swollen nipples, licking their frozen snouts, hoping to bring them back to life, but her efforts proved futile. Not long ago, her wolf mate had perished, and now there were no more offspring.
The she-wolf’s heart broke with pain, and unable to cope with her grief, she howled. Her long, mournful howl carried through the silent winter night. For several hours she circled her den, and this exhausting run drained all her strength. Finally, the weakened she-wolf decided to descend to the river, hoping that the icy water would slake her thirst.
Suddenly, her keen senses caught a new scent that aroused her interest. She lifted her nose and moved toward the source of the aroma. The scent beckoned her, soothed her, and filled her with long-forgotten feelings. At the river, she noticed a vague figure and froze, holding her breath and trying not to make a sound.
Suddenly the figure stirred, and the she-wolf realized that before her stood a human — the arch-enemy of all animals. Her jaws involuntarily bared, revealing sharp fangs, and the hair along her back stood on end. Studying the human intently, she noticed that he did not have a stick, as she had expected. Instead, he held a parcel that emanated an alluring scent, which made her heart beat faster.
The old she-wolf saw the man place the parcel on the snow and push it toward the water. She had no doubt that there was food inside the parcel that would give her the strength to continue her struggle for life. Forgetting caution, the predator quickly ran to the parcel. She seized it with her teeth and, her paws skimming over the icy crust, disappeared behind a hill.
Galina was paralyzed, watching a huge, dark beast with burning eyes charging straight at her. It seemed to her as if it had appeared out of nowhere.
“Devil!” she whispered and lost consciousness.
Galina was found the next day. Sunlight, breaking through the clouds, illuminated the serene and snowy bank of the river. However, this calm contrasted with the horror etched in the girl’s eyes. Her glazed stare fixed wildly on something unknown and, perhaps, terrifying that had frozen before her forever. Her mouth was twisted in a silent scream, as if she tried to say something, but the words were trapped in her throat.
The Hunter
Winter reluctantly left the Siberian lands, gradually retreating to the north. The noisy winds reminded one of the cold, but everywhere thawing ground could be seen, and birds chirped joyfully, heralding the coming warmth.
The taiga was awakening from its long winter sleep. On the clearings, bright patches of snowdrops, coltsfoot, and primroses began to bloom.
The gray she-wolf hurried back to her den, covering her tracks so that her presence wouldn’t be discovered. In her mouth she carried a hare she had caught, her morning prey. The rising sun painted the tops of the majestic cedars with a pink flame, creating an enchanting scene. Beneath the roots of one of the cedars, in a pit lined with soft needles, lay the dwelling of the she-wolf and her offspring.
The pup awaited her return. It was still very young and incomprehensible to its mother, yet alive. When the pup saw the she-wolf, it whimpered happily and crawled toward her. The she-wolf placed the hare before it, deftly slit the hare’s belly, and began to feast. She chewed some of the softer pieces, then regurgitated and laid them out before the little one.
But the pup was not interested in hare meat. Crawling under the she-wolf’s belly, it found her nipple and contentedly sucked on it.
Suddenly, the she-wolf’s fur bristled; her sensitive ears picked up a noise from above, and she detected a sharp scent of an intruder pursuing her. Cautiously and silently, the she-wolf left her den and hid under an old cedar, guarding the entrance to the pit, skillfully concealed by lush vegetation. The pup sucked on the hare’s bone as it dozed off.
There was only one pursuer. An experienced hunter was confidently following the she-wolf. The gray predator pressed herself to the ground. She could have left her hiding spot unnoticed and concealed herself behind some brush, but her pup was asleep in the den, and she could not leave it. Maternal instinct prevailed over self-preservation, and she stayed in place.
The hunter approached the entrance to the den and stopped. Sensing danger for her pup’s life, the she-wolf froze and prepared for a fight. Inhaling the foreign scent deeply, she tensed her entire body.
Throughout her long life, she had endured countless trials, having been the leader of a pack and learned the treachery of both humans and wolves. Cast out from her former family and having lost her pups, she had learned to survive on her own. The found pup had become the very meaning of the old she-wolf’s existence.
The man, after treading a bit near the tree roots, finally noticed a gap in the den. Holding his rifle out in front, he cautiously peered inside. At that moment, the she-wolf leaped, pouring all her strength into the attack. The man fell, and her powerful fangs snapped just a millimeter from his throat, enveloping the hunter with the scent of a beast. The man staggered back and sprang to his feet, the rifle flying aside.
The she-wolf leaped again and clamped onto the right wrist of the man. The man thought that perhaps this was his final hour. With his other hand, he fumbled for his hunting knife at his calf and struck the beast. At that moment, a cry sounded from within the den, and the stunned hunter saw a tiny human infant deep inside.
The she-wolf let out a deep, guttural roar and, releasing the enemy’s hand, leaped, blocking the entrance to the den, defending her pup and preparing for one final, deadly battle. Her fur bristled, her eyes blazed with infernal fire, and her jaws were bared.
Landing on the ground and spreading her paws wide, she was ready to attack anyone who dared approach her baby.
The man, unable to believe his eyes, stared at the child in the den, then, clutching his wounded arm, began to retreat. Blood flowed, and so did it from the she-wolf’s side.
The hunter retrieved his rifle, which had flown aside, and aimed at the she-wolf. The predator did not take her eyes off the man. The child reached for her, grabbed onto the fur of his furry mother, and tried to get up, but once again fell onto the spruce needle bed. The rifle trembled in the hunter’s wounded hand, his fingers unresponsive, and, fearing to accidentally hurt the child somehow caught in the wolf’s den, the man lowered his rifle.
Hiding behind the trees, having torn off a sleeve from his shirt and bandaged the wolf-bitten arm, the hunter pondered. He could not leave the child, but he understood that the she-wolf would not give it up without a fight, and with his injured arm, he wouldn’t be able to make an accurate shot.
So he decided to wait until the predator left the den. The hunter spent the night in ambush, but the she-wolf did not hurry to leave. She lay in wait. Only occasionally could one hear either the child’s cry or its happy babble from the den.
At dawn, the hunter fell asleep. In his dream, he saw a black river with snowy banks and a young woman holding a baby.
The awakening was sudden: a crow cawed loudly, settling on a branch above the hunter’s head. No sound came from the den. The man cautiously approached and peered inside. To his astonishment, the she-wolf and the child had vanished! In his bewilderment, the hunter looked at the abandoned den, the branches, and the old wolf’s pelts. The she-wolf had taken the opportunity while he slept and carried the child away.
The man returned to the village and recounted what he had seen. The villagers, armed with whatever they could muster, went off to scour the forest. But no one was found. The she-wolf and the child had disappeared.
At the end of summer, roughly twenty kilometers from the she-wolf’s former den, among the dense spruces, geologists accidentally discovered a little boy of about six months. The child slept soundly on the moss, clinging tightly to the side of the lifeless she-wolf. Sensing the approach of an end, the “mother” carried the child onto a frequently used path, returning the “child” to the human fold.
I can’t recall now whether I read this story online or heard it from someone, but it seemed to me that the plot would be of interest to readers.