The Red Wolf

The sound of the rain has been programmed to make most animals seek sleep. Ricky was no different, simply more defiant than the average mammal.  He pushed his fingers to his forehead to support the weight of 6 days of minimal sleep.  He gazed out the window at the bright red pork on a bleach white plate.  He was worried that the water surging under the plate may spirit the bait away.  That the broken dingy disney princess umbrella wasn’t enough to keep the food dry. Or the smell of the rain completely masked the normally fragrant pork.  He was worried.  Yet, the smell of the spices still lingered on his finger tips at it reminded him of warmer and brighter nights. The small wif made his stomach growl.  

On the advice of his stomach, he decided to give up.  He got up from his worn perch by the window and headed down to return the plate before it was discovered the next morning. “That is our family's recipe Ricardo!  If your father knew that you were disrespectful?” Ricky heard as he tiptoed past his sister and uncle’s rooms, down the stairs, through the office, around the dining area, into the kitchen, and to the back door. Making sure not to step on the squeaky floorboards he discovered his past week of stealth visits to the alley.  His eyes wandered to the sack of dish towels that hid his go bag, and he did not want to think about the inevitable unpacking of what was once his school bag.  But when his hand hit the door knob he felt a sense of relief.  The familiar calm that came with finally letting go a desire that alludes ones best efforts.

It vanished as he looked through the doorway.  In front of him stood a creature with bright orange fur that seemed to burn red in the rainy night sky.  It’s legs were long, and not of a dog, nor cat, nor fox, nor leopard.  Time stood still as Ricky took a deep breath in.  He shifted his weight to the back of his feet, one after the other. The creature licked it’s lips and stared at Ricky with a pair of small brown eyes.  Ricky didn’t break eye contact as he reached into the sack of moist and dirty kitchen towels, and lugged his bag onto his shoulders. No he tiptoed carefully towards the beast who was content in watching the strange display from the young boy. As he took his second step towards the slim orange figure he felt a gust of wind against the back of his neck, followed by a slam of the kitchen door sealing shut.  All that was left of the creature was a small orange glow, but Ricky did not stop to take in the spectacle.  He crunched the bleached white plate behind his boots and took up the chase. Leaving only a dotted line of crimson paw prints for the rain to wash away. 

Fortunately, it was not long before the rain gave way and the moon peered through the towering clouds.  It was faster than Ricky turned it’s head start into several blocks of distance.  The only thing on Ricky’s side was the moon which lit the orange fur in a soft light that seemed to leave a trail for the young boy to follow. The streets were void of cars and life, as if the people had gone into their homes and windows to watch the case. He saw it resting at the edge of a street and Ricky slowed his pace inorder to catch his breath, but as soon as he came within a football pitch length of the beast, it bolted for what seemed like miles.  Almost as if it was baiting Ricky out past the edge of Rio, into the mountains, and into its home turf.   

His breath was heavy yet quick. The effort of the chase was taking its toll on his feet and they began to pulsate in rhythm with his heart. He spotted the elusive one in the middle of a freshly cut field dotted by a large white sign advertising a plot of land for lease.  Ricky was jealous of the large shadow that cooled the animal and covered his eyes as he marked the morning sun which was out in force.  His eyes narrowed on the now dry ball of fur that heaved steadily in the sign’s shadow.  He slowly slid his shoulder strap down one arm and off the other.  He retrieved the binoculars from the overpacked sack and breathed deep to steady his body. 

 The animal's coat blazed like a bonfire in the darkness of the shadow.  It did not give any attention to it’s voyeur, and was focused on licking its front right paw in such excess that it made Ricky wondering if it tasted as good as the animal made it seem.  It had been bleeding all week according to the red paw prints Ricky had seen throughout his neighborhood.  After the moment of intrigue passed, Ricky slowly flipped out his phone and dialed.  “Professor? I’m looking at it right now.  Yes. It’s gorgeous.  Outside the city.  I had to run after it. I’m fine.  It’s paw opened up again, but it was heading into the woods.   I’m not going to leave it - there was a long pause - I don’t care, you don’t just let something die if you can help it.  You don’t know that. Just tell my sister to tell my uncle to tell my mom that I’m not going to be home for a bit.  Then Ricky hung up.  He returned to his binoculars and noted that the fox seemed as tired as he was.  So he allowed himself to rest, never taking his eyes off the fox, and waiting for a sign from his partner that they were ready to continue their journey.

The sun was past its peak when the wolf began a series of stretches and yawns. Ricky followed along with the animal, and readied his heart for another chase.  He could not hide his look of surprise when it did not run, but instead began to walk slowly towards the treeline which stood several miles from the fresh lot.  Ricky matched his pace at first but soon found himself slowly gaining on the red fur back.  His face turned into more of a frown as he got closer and saw the beast altered gate that took pressure off its front paw.  He knew in the jungle beyond, the fox would disappear.  One foot always remained on the ground as Ricky increased his speed.  His target gently trotted on the fresh auburn mud beneath its paws, pausing to look up at random and causing Ricky to freeze whenever he did.  Gripping his toes into the soles of his boots in case he needed to restart the chase. He took a final step in preparation to rush the beast down.  The crack seemed to echo throughout the construction site that encircled the lot, like a starter pistol for the torrent of rain that began to spill out from the once pink clouds.  Night fell in an instant, and Ricky saw the bright fire orange fur disappear into the cover of the rainforest.  With a quick check of his pack straps and pocket knife, and one final glimpse of the town that he barely recognized from this distance, he went in after it.

The canopy of the trees kept most of the rain from hitting the forest floor directly, instead it trickled down the trees and turned into steam as it hit the ground which was still hot from the day's cook.  Ricky could not tell if it was sweat or condensation formed on his body.  His clothes stuck like paper mache to his legs.  He could feel the small burn of chafing taking form as his legs propelled him forward.  Yet, the worst was the slight breeze that broke through the tree line and reminded Ricky in a comforting tone that it would soon be very cold.  He could not hear cars nor the humming of electricity. But the jungle was loud.  Monkeys howled, ants marched, and birds called out for their lovers to be.

 In a state of soggy delirium, he followed after the bright wisp until it stopped raining.  He looked through a hole in the canopy and saw the stars that hid their light in the presence of Rio.  Suddenly sleep began to whisper in his ear. He wanted to stop and sleep amongst the stars that were closer than ever, but still out of reach.  He was surprised when he returned his gaze to the forest floor and saw the bright fur and black eyes of his partner. It stared at Ricky, conveniently closer than ever, but still out of reach. He let out a small yawn that asked if Ricky was too tired to go on.  Ricky answered by mechanically putting one foot in front of the other and it was gone in an orange flash taking the light of the moon and stars with it.  The world blackened around him. Ricky threw himself under a nearby outcropping of rock.  His breath caught up with him and with it came his senses.  He did not see where it went, but felt that his journey had run its course.  He felt like a child again.  On a crusade for a cause his dad would have given up on due to wisdom and common sense.  The feeling of dread and danger did little to fight off the pain and fatigue of his body, and Ricky gave into sleep.  The dreams he had were vivid but not frightening as they had been in recent months instead taking on a melancholy form that danced to the tune of depression. 

A tugging at his shoulders jerked him awake in a panic.  As he stood up with his bag on, he pulled his partner through the air and launched him against the rock wall.  It let out a yelp, and Ricky’s heart sank.  The Wolf sprang back to all fours and bared his teeth before opening its mouth to let out a guttural bark that warned of its natural fiercousity.  His body began to shake as the bark followed bark.  Standing on all four it was as tall as him and although it’s head was small, the sound made clear that it was incontrol of the situation. A moment of stand still passed before Ricky noticed the wolf shift his eyes slightly.  He stuck both hands out over his hand and carefully removed his bag, the wolf locked his eyes on the nearly open top flap.  Ricky could see it’s nose scrunch when he removed the jerky and for the first time since he left the family restaurant, he felt incontrol.  He tore and tossed a small piece of the jerky over to the wolf, who ate it happily.  The growling was replaced with the smacking of lips, which Ricky rewarded by tossing another piece.  Then he held out his palm with a piece of his homemade jerky in it’s center.  His fingertips stained red from the dired marinade.  He felt a slight breeze and a slimy yet coarse tongue scoop the meat from his hand.  When he opened his eyes, the orange beast was smacking his lips back against the wall.  

His heart began to slow.  The creature seemed to be satisfied with his offering, and was not waiting patiently for the next piece.  Ricky wiped the sweat from his brow and in the process caught the spiced scent of the marinade.  He took a deep inhale of the jerky bag and allowed himself to be carried home by the scent.  Back through the jungle, through the empty lot, through the alley filled with trash, back to when the smell of the kitchen brought him home hungry from school.  He remembered how his hands stained the hall of the restaurant because he didn’t wash.  Ricky could feel the welt on the back of his head from his father's smack.  His mouth formed into a sealed smile as he remembered coming down stairs the next morning to find his dad had painted his hand print on the wall permanently, “So you always remember to wash your hands in the kitchen,” he could hear someone saying.  Only it was not his dad. It was no one.  The sound of the thought being whispered into the back of your skull.  There was no warmth.  No love in the tone.  Like a meal from a bag heated in the microwave.  His hands trembled and the Wolf retreated back to it’s corner.  Ricky clutched his ears as he tried to the rip the sound of his father’s voice from his memory.  Nothing worked.  He fell to his knees and began to cry and turned the head of every parent in the jungle.  Ricky sealed his eyes shut again. 

They were opened by a rough sensation.  Ricky’s eyes shot open only to immediately close again to avoid tongue to retna contact.  He wondered if his tears tasted good. Ricky strained his eyes as he took in his soaked surroundings.  Even the Wolf's fur darkened from the water that lay in between it’s hairs.  It was clear that the two were done for the day.  So Ricky began to remove the gear that he had carefully packed a week ago.  “Who is crazy now?” he muttered to God.  The towel he brought was soaked, but it gave him a clean enough feeling to comfortably curl up under the noisy mirrored blanket.  As he lay on his side he ate the trail mix and jerky he had packed, giving a fair share to his red eared friend.  It was not long before sleep began to take Ricky and the Wolf.  The clouds took off, and while curled up in that ball the moon leaned in close and wish him and the flame beneath him, “Goodnight.” 

=MAYBE DO A POV FROM THE FOX FOR THE REST OF IT

The Flame sparked to life with a sense of surprise due to the compression in it’s paw.  It spent a good minute gnawing at the binds but was thwarted by Ricky’s wrapping skills.  Ricky could not help but smile when the beast settled down in the familiar position of a child who just cut themselves in the kitchen and now are more conscious of their parents' words.  The Wolf began to stretch out and Ricky contoured his body to match the various poses that the wolf took.  Breakfast was light for the duo, but more so for the four legged friend as Ricky only had a few pieces of pork left.  They were gone before Ricky could taste the meat himself, and he instead filled up on trail mix while the wolf licked his fingers.  

The pair began to wander the woods.  Ricky walked north according to the tree moss, and prayed to hit a road so he could begin the long walk back into town.  Soon, Both young men began to follow their noses.  It was Chilli and Orange, backed up with a smoked base that added a familiar feeling to the otherwise otherworldly aroma.  The moss began to change direction as they followed the scent.  But Ricky did not feel lost, nor did his red companion.  Infact, with each step forward he felt more conviction that he was on the path home.  The other animals regarded it as pleasant, but did not follow it blindly as Ricky and the Wolf did.   

Ricky cleared branches and helped the wolf reach the places Ricky's thumbs granted him unique access too.  The Wolf remained vigilant of the other animals who noticed the poisonous order of a human in the rainforest and occasionally told them to “Fuck off.”.  The two marched in this fashion for some time, before being stopped by a river.  Not too deep for Ricky, but far too deep and strong for the young creature.  The moat caused a pause in their journey that reminded them of barking feet. The pair decided to rest along the bank of the river.  Which was not more remarkable a river than any other, but cast a spell that froze time and imprinted the image into the earth's memories.  Ricky watched as two bright red dragonflies bobbed and danced next to his submerged feet.  Their dance struck a chord in the young man.  The void of loss began to set in as it did back in the cave and he felt tears the same temperature of the river roll down his cheeks, and they cried together.

Ricky did cry for some time but was relieved when he saw the scene snapshot of peace when he woke up. A quick brush of his nose. Followed by a brush on a tree. Ricky felt like a seedling that got just enough water to sprout and was thirsty for me.. As small bugs moved onto the tree to investigate the mucus, Ricky shot up.  Startling the wolf who had now fallen asleep on a sunny rock.  As soon as Ricky was on his feet the smell reminded him of the cold plunge before him.  The pack began to move.  The smell resonated in Ricky as he walked along the bank of the river till he found a shallow enough spot just as the sun began to drip down the wall of the sky.  Ricky scooped up his furry friend and placed him on his backpack which he then lifted above his head.  The wolf was frozen in fear as Ricky waded in.  But Ricky's eyes focused on the shoreline, and he tried to sink every stomp into the dirt so that the water didn’t pull him away..  The Red Wolf was panting when he jumped from Ricky's shoulders.  The pack had been soaked along with the majority of the Wolf’s fur, but they made it. Infact, they both felt clean.  The only thing left in their mind was the smell which guided them up a hill that sat behind the river. As they reached the crest, Ricky found a monastery on the horizon.   They raced against the setting sun.  The sun's pace quickened, the forest faded to black around them, and the Red Maned Wolf took the lead.  Providing an orange hue to the world as he ran by.  Ascending  the steps of the monastery they found what they had been looking for.  A tinfoil tray, filled with vegetables and pork, all covered in the familiar rojo sauce.  

Ricky did not realized what he was eating until his second fistful.  Both he and his furry friend ate with hunger befitting their two day journey. "Fernando?" A voice interrupted them, causing both to whip their necks like a riding crop in the direction of a squat elderly woman with dark gray glasses eyes, and a wooden spoon that could pass for a carpentry mellet.  "Fernando if you are there you better say now or the fathers will hear of it!" "Yes!" Ricky answered on an impulse that had led him to trouble in the pass.  "Fool.  if you really must have seconds, then you can not take it from the wolves.  The scientists say they need it more than we do.  Come inside. I won't tell." She signed with a smirk. So Ricky followed the woman.  If she could see, she would have made a comment about the red furred boy who now sat at her table and ate her pork with a frecitiousity to match Ricky’s.  “You are eating enough for four.  You know Freddy, one day you'll be old enough to leave here. Head to Rio or where you wish.  And you will need to know the secret ingredient to this dish.”  Both Ricky and the Wolf paused their stained red mouths to listen to the wise words. “Love… and rain water." The words echo'd in Rickys head altering between the nuns' voices and no ones.  “Did you put rain water in this?” Ricky asked.  “No, son, just love,” Fernando answered. He could not tell if it was the chilis of the feelings but his eyes stayed full of tears as he and his friend ate their fill. The door opened, and was followed by the crash of the recently dropped coke bottle.  Which was dropped by an incredibly surprised nun who found a crying little boy and Wolf eating her leftovers

The mess took some time to untangle, but the Wolf stayed close to Ricky as he talked with the various priests, uncles, mothers, and manned wolf biologists.  Soon by now the children in the monastery had assembled a group, who quickly devised a soccer game in the police’s headlights. A kick of the ball too close to the Wolf and he began to play soccer with them..  Ricky listened to Maria tell him of his father and his uncle.  How skinny they were when they came to the orphanage and how much they both loved to help in the kitchen.  She told that in addition to the children of the villages and cities, Santuário do Caraça also took care of the orphans of the rainforest.  After years of acclimating to humans, the Maned Wolves came to feast on the Rojo Pork made by the nuns.  Ricky could still smell pork in the air but now it made him want to sleep more than his eight serving.  He woke up as his uncle scooped him into his arms and carried him to the car.  Ricky could feel the moisture of tears on his uncle's cheeks.  

 On Thursday nights, when the restaurant served their famous Rojo Pork, Ricky made sure to set out an order made with love.  Testing a small piece each time.  The taste was amazing did not compare to no one’s “I love you,” the played in his head.