A Wolf And His Man - 1. The Visitor

Oli groaned awake, and in the moment before his brain started actually communicating properly with his ears and other senses, he assumed that his dream of being in the centre of a Firefly style Alliance versus Brown Coats battle was coming true. But then his mind woke up, Malcom Reynolds drifted out of focus, and he realised someone was knocking rather enthusiastically on his front door. With a heavy sigh, Oli clambered up out of the nest he’d unconsciously turned his duvet into, pulled on a t-shirt and grabbed for some sweat pants hanging on the back of a chair. He growled half-heartedly at his morning erection, hoped it was hidden enough under his clothes, and staggered to the front door.

He smelt his neighbour’s daughter before he fully opened the door, and looked down into the wide eyes of a slightly nervous nine year old.

“Yes?” Oli rubbed a hand across his eyes. It was annoyingly early, and the little blonde girl was still in her blue and pink leopard print onesie. School children and their parents might be up at this time, but Oli didn’t need to leave for work for another two hours and he was a big fan of the two minute shower and dash.

“Morning Mr Volkov.” The girl, Denise he remembered in a sudden flash, smiled at him in excited nervousness. “Mum asked me to come see you. Something’s happened. There’s a dog.”

“Huh?”

“She asked if you could come ‘round?” Denise gave him an apprehensive look. “It’s an emergency?”

“OK, hang on.” Oli sighed, running his hands through his incredibly messy reddish-brown hair. “Let me get some shoes on.” He slipped his bare feet into a pair of all-terrain hiking boots with elastic laces. “What’s this emergency?”

He left the front door pushed to, and followed the little girl down the three steps from his front door and along the small hedge that separated their front gardens, before turning back on himself and heading up the crazy little paved path his neighbours had installed a few years ago. Jeanine had been incredibly keen on the project, and had laid pieces of old and broken ceramics and smooth worn beach glass into the concrete amongst the stones. She hurried towards the front door as he crossed over the threshold.

“Oliver! Thank heavens!” Jeanine was dressed half in smart slacks and half in a rumpled t-shirt belonging to her husband. Her make-up was perfect but her hair was everywhere. “I knew you’d be the right person to call. He came right over the fence and fell into the pond. I think he’s hurt quite badly.”

“Huh?” Oli frowned at her, but his powerful nose cut through the words, picking up the scents of the house. Toast, and the sickly sweetness of industrial jam, an acrid blue chemical scent. The soapy softness of the children; a scent Oli could never actually fully describe or pin down. Behind those layers was something warm, damp, the green clinging aroma of the pond, a red of pain and yellow nervousness. Overlaying it all was the overwhelming smell of sodden fur and wet dog.

“A dog came over the fence, he looks like a stray.” Jeanine walked him towards the back of the house and the little utility room. “And I have to get the kids dressed and ready for school. “She turned to shout over her shoulder. “Matching socks please Oscar! And I don’t know anything about animals. I got Jack to carry him in before he went to work. He was unconscious, I thought he was dead.”

Do I have the words ‘rescue centre’ on my forehead or something? Oli sighed internally. It wasn’t that he didn’t love dogs, but he didn’t relish the idea of having to track down the owner of some runaway spaniel when he should have been cuddled up with his duvet.

“OK then.”

Jeanine opened the door to the utility room and Oli stood and blinked at the sight presented to him. There was a furry, wet and obviously damaged mass in the centre of the floor, staring up at him with vibrantly yellow eyes. Someone who didn’t know better might mistake the grey and white colouring and the size for a husky. A thin, half-starved husky whose coat hadn’t been near a brush in a long time, but Oli knew better. The bedraggled canine in front of him, was in fact, a wolf.

“Do you think he’d go with you?”

“I have no idea. I hope so.” Oli crouched down a little distance away from the strange wolf. “I’ll be fine. You go on and do your thing.” Oli waited until Jeanine had vanished, closing the door behind her to continue barking at her children, before he sank to his knees. He could smell the wolf’s emotions, and while he was a bit scared, very much in pain, hungry and tired, he did not feel vicious or angry. Even so, Oli held out his hand, palm down and allowed the animal to smell him.

*

“Now you have to be slow, and careful.” His father had hunkered down next Oli, to bring himself closer to his four year old son’s low height. “You need to let her get to know you.”

“What if she bites me?” Oli had cuddled into his father’s side, away from the huge dog the other man was holding. “Daddy…”

“It’ll be OK, you’ll see.” Oli had watched his father hold out a hand to the beast, and she had sniffed at him with her tan and black muzzle, moved her head around his hand before he stroked boldly over her head and between the large, fluffy and pointed ears. “She’s friendly, she won’t hurt you.”

“OK…” Oli had been suspicious of the strange dog, but had followed his father’s instruction, and allowed the dog to sniff him. When she had dragged her long dryish but rough tongue over his hand he had giggled and pulled away.

“You like her?”

“I think so.” The man holding the Alsatian had let her go, and she had paced around the slightly nervous young boy, before returning to her basket. “What’s she got in there?”

“Aww, lad…” The dog’s owner had reached down into the basket and pulled up a handful of fluff. “These are her wee pups.”

Oli had gone wide eyed as the man placed the tiny, mewling ball of fluff in his arms. It was barely distinguishable as a dog, let alone a big sleek creature like the Alsatian curled up in the basket, nosing at the remaining puppies. He held it carefully as the little dog explored his chest, snuffling and sniffing, until it began to lick his chin with its tiny pink tongue.

“I think he likes you.” The owner of the dogs had patted Oli’s head. “Did ye wants a boy, or…?”

Oli’s father had sighed and smiled, and Oli had turned to him with bright eyes, cradling in the little dog.

“You can’t take him away now Oli, he’s not old enough.”

“I know.” Oli had touched the little puppy’s nose with his own. “Can we have him, daddy?”

“I suppose.” Oli had grinned in delight at his father’s words. “What will you call him?”

*

“…what will you call him?”

Oli blinked, pulling his mind back into focus at Denise’s question. She was dressed for school now, and stood watching him curiously, her toast threatening to drip jam down her blue and white gingham summer uniform, as the strange wolf snuffled and sniffed him. Very gently, Oli stroked the space between the wolf’s intelligent yellow eyes.

“I don’t know if I can keep him. He might belong to someone.”

“But he’s hurt. You will look after him, won’t you?” Denise looked deeply worried, in only the way small children could manage, wide eyed and innocent.

“Yes hun, I’ll look after him.” Both man and wolf watched the little girl vanish. Oli turned to the big, damp and injured canine. “She’s right though,” he muttered softly, “you’ve sprained that ankle pretty bad.” Oli shifted forwards, bringing himself very close to the animal. “I’m going to have to carry you, and we’d best get a look at that, eh?”

Even for Oli, who could smell the emotions coming from the wolf as clearly as he could smell the lingering aroma of the small fish pond, sliding his hands under a strange bedraggled wolf was risky. As he knelt up, Oli cradled the beat against his chest.

And his teeth are right by your throat. You’re so trusting it’s stupid. Oli ignored the voice of his scepticism, rocked onto the balls of his feet and stood up carefully. The wolf grunted as he shifted its weight in his arms, one hand under his chest, the other supporting the weight of his back end as best he could. The wolf was not nearly as heavy as a canine his size should have been.

“Hey there…” Oli made his voice soft and soothing. “Atta boy. Good lad.” The wolf made a soft whimpering noise and Oli felt his cold nose pressed against his clavicle. “Come on buddy. Let’s get you cleaned up, eh?”

It was awkward to carry the damp injured wolf round to his house, but Oli was strong, and good at handling large animals. He laid the wolf on the sofa where it simply flopped, too exhausted by pain to want to move, while Oli fetched a large towel from his bathroom and began to rub the animal dry. His fur was full of snaggles and Oli itched to get a comb and brush him, but that was a task that would take all day once he got started. Once the wolf was simply slightly damp rather than soaking wet, Oli turned his attention to his right foreleg.

He felt his fingers along the bone gently, murmuring too the wolf as he did so.

*

“What’s wrong with Ruff?” Oli had sat on the floor next to the unoccupied dog bed, because the big Alsatian had climbed into the ten year old’s lap and collapsed, his huge tan and black wedge shaped head resting on Oli’s thigh.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Oli’s mother knelt down and ran her hand over the dog’s thick fur. “What happened?”

“He jumped out of the car and landed funny.” The whimper of the dog and the grating of cartilage and bone still stuck in Oli’s mind. “He won’t put his foot down and he doesn’t want to eat anything.” Ruff had chosen that moment to raise his head and nuzzle gently at Oli’s neck, whimpering softly. “I don’t know what to do.”

His mother ran a gentle but confident hand down the affected limb.

“It’s just a sprain. He’ll be fine. Here, feel.” Ruff rolled obligingly over and lifted his leg to allow Oli to feel the bones near his wrist. “Compare it to the other one. You feel the difference?”

The bones of the uninjured leg were smooth and straight under the muscle, but on the other leg there was a bump of hard flesh. When Oli pressed it, Ruff made a drawn out whimper that made the boy wince.

“Sorry boy.”

“That’s where the muscle fibres have knotted together, from the impact. Let him rest up for a day or so, and he should be fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes sweetie.” Oli’s mother petted his head. “I’ll bet Ruff likes that you’re with him though, he looks comfy.”

Oli and his dog watched her walk away, and Oli stroked the soft fur between Ruff’s ears gently. The Alsatian sighed and wagged his tail faintly across the carpet. After a while the small boy hugged his dog, the two of them cuddled together so it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

“I love you Ruff, I’ll never leave you.”

*

“Just a sprain buddy.” Oli petted the top of the wolf’s paw gently. “You must have landed in the pond with a bit of a shock. Why were you trying to get into their garden anyway?”

The wolf didn’t answer, but cocked an ear and a dark eyebrow spot at the human who knelt over him. Oli sighed, then reached out and ruffled the wolf’s ears, an automatic gesture of comfort, before dragging his hand over the dense fur. He could feel all the wolf’s ribs with ease.

“You were trying to get the guinea pigs? Oh that wouldn’t have put you in anyone’s good graces. Hang on a sec.” Oli retreated to the kitchen and collected a tub of steak strips from the fridge which he had been intending to use in a stir fry. Offering one to the wolf, he had to snatch back his fingers from the huge yellow teeth before they too became part of the wolf’s breakfast.

“I have to go to work Buddy.” Oli realised he’d turned the colloquialism into a name only after he’d said it. “I’ll put some water down for you in the kitchen. Sleep it off, and I’ll be back tonight.” The wolf watched him mournfully. “I’ll leave some more food out for you; heaven knows you need it.”

Oli left the house later than he would have liked, jumped on his bike and had to cycle as hard as he could. Luckily the whole first part of his journey was downhill, and it the little push bike picked up speed, Oli realised he’d left a stray wolf alone in his house.

If you don’t come back and find everything you own in shreds, his inner voice mocked, I’ll eat my hat.

You don’t wear hats. Oli told himself sternly. It wasn’t much reassurance, and Oli figured arriving home to find things broken was probably the best case scenario. He definitely didn’t want to spend his evening trying to rent a carpet cleaner and scraping shit off the floors.

*

In the end, he was late to work, although in the art department that simply meant you brought coffee and donuts and no one really minded too much. Even though Oli’s work was basically freelance, he liked to keep to a fairly regular schedule. Oli liked his job, the magazine was independent and locally produced, and the art department also provided ad-service for dozens of other companies, both local and far afield.

Oli spent much of his morning re-touching photographs of organic fruit liqueurs which had been turned into little wedding favour bottles with raffias bows, and a background of vintage lace and glittery trinkets. The image collection would be part of a dozen multimedia adverts, and Oli had to admit that they looked tasty, even though he much preferred rich dark ale to any other type of alcohol. He was doodling on some new paper samples and eating lunch when his boss came past his desk.

“All the Gibson’s stuff done?”

“Yup.” Oli smiled. “Accounts have got it now, they’re doing the final invoice as per.” He stared down at his doodles, and the wolf he’d left on his sofa stared back at him. “You got another project for me?”

“Yeah, when is it you’re off again?” Oli’s boss laid a sheaf of mixed documents onto his work table.

“Next week. I should be back on Friday.” Oli flipped open the file and began to spread the images and text segments. “Layouts?”

“It’s an article for the tattoo studio in town that won all those awards. I’m not convinced about some of these pictures though, they look a bit corporate.” Oli scanned over a dozen images of guys and girls with ink and tattoo guns. “Maybe punk them up a bit? You might have to go back and take a few more. It’s a three page spread.”

“Deadline?” Oli was already tuning out everything else, focusing on the task in front of him. Visualisations of how the pages might look jumped into sharp focus in his mind, splashes of ink colour contrasting with the block black text. He would need some bold contrasting quotes too.

“Friday. Have fun Oli…” His boss walked away, shaking his head, tutting to a couple of the other art department kids. “I swear that boy just switches off…”

*

“… he’s so focused. He’ll cope fine.”

“That’s just what I’m worried about.” His father’s voice was hushed and earnest. “I want to delay it as long as we can. Let the boy have his freedom, enjoy his dog.”

“And when Ruff is gone and there is nothing to distract him, you think that will be a good time?” Oli’s mother sounded almost angry. Oli frowned and his fingers slipped from Ruff’s collar and the dog wandered into the room, shouldering the door open as he did so. “Oh, hi darling.”

“Hey mum, dad…” Oli frowned at his parents. “I’m gonna take Ruff for a walk, we’ll probably stop in at Harvey’s house too.”

“OK sweetie,” His mother smiles. “Just don’t tire him out. Ruff’s not as young as he used to be.”

Oli ruffled the big Alsatian’s white peppered head and ears and smiled at his best friend. Ruff huffed at him softly and licked his hand, ears up and eyes bright. He might have been an old dog, but he was still plenty happy to accompany his thirteen year old owner wherever the boy wanted to go.

“Nah, he’s good.” Oli grinned. “I can tell. C’mon boy.”

As they walked, Ruff pacing obediently at his young Master’s side, the boy’s fingers resting in the thick fur at the back of his neck for which he had been named, Oli thought about what he had heard his parents saying. It was not the first time he had overheard scraps of such a conversation, but having been raised by traditional middle class parents, he was much too polite to actively listen in or ask about what he’d heard. He knew they were discussing him though, and as he walked with his dog, his mind could only pick on two, both very unlikely possibilities.

The better of the two was the conversation about puberty, and although Oli dreaded that, at least there would be no surprises. School had already covered all of the necessaries, and once they got to year ten, health and personal education classes would teach them how to put a condom onto a demonstrator model, all the while remind them that abstinence was key, and that waiting until you were ready was extremely important.

For a while he thought perhaps his mother was pregnant, but he couldn’t work out why that would be a secret. Also, his mother was a slender woman, and a month after Oli had first overheard their whispering, she had looked the same and had lounged on the sofa drinking wine, so Oli had figured he was wrong.

The option he was most worried about was that his parents might be separating. It was the only choice left his brain could come up with. The thing was that they seemed happy enough, though it was always hard to tell with adults. They hugged, sometimes there would be a peck on the cheek, normally when they thought he wasn’t looking, and both of them were often smiling. But Oli knew his mother was irritated by his father’s business trips. She was a vet, and his dad was a carpenter. His workshop in the back garden of the house always smelt fantastic. Every month, it seemed, his father would go away: to trade fairs, to shows, exhibitions, to deliver bespoke pieces to clients by hand, to pick up materials from new suppliers. He was usually away four or five days at a time, and Oli was confused by his father’s absences, because nowhere in the UK took more than a day and a half to drive to. How long could it possibly take to install a coffee table or a wardrobe?

Oli and Ruff walked through the park, the big dog loping off to sniff at invisible scent trails, returned to his master before dashing away to chase squirrels he would never have a hope of catching. Harvey, who claimed the position of Oli’s best human friend, lived on the other side of the green space. Harvey was a few months older than Oli, and he was tall, his shoulders getting broad, and his tan skin tight over developing musculature. He dropped to his knees after opening the door and engulfed Ruff’s smiling form with both arms before the big dog knocked him over backwards and proceeded to slobber all over him.

“Hey Harvey.”

“Hi.” Harvey’s voice was muffled under the weight of muscle and fur. “Oh, get off me you great thing!”

“Ruff!” The dog instantly ceased all movement at his master’s voice. “Come away.” Oli stroked the Alsatian as he returned. He hated to admit it, but something in the pit of his stomach curled into a jealous sort of feeling. Rather than offer a hand to Harvey to help him up, Oli wanted to drop onto the ground with him and lay staring at the ceiling, listening to Harvey breathing in his ear. The feeling was warm and illicit, and Oli tried to ignore the sweetness in his belly as Harvey jumped to his feet.

“You had enough walk for a bit?”

Oli shrugged in agreement, Ruff sitting at his feet. The dog wasn’t bothered about going back just yet.

“My brother got the new Goldeneye game on the N-sixty-four.” Harvey grinned.

“You do remember I’m better at first person shooters than you right?” Oli replied cockily, his reflexes were excellent. “You’re on!”

*

Oli spent the rest of his day working on type setting and potential layouts for the tattoo article and arranged with the manager to visit the studio first thing the following morning. He signed out a new edition Nikon camera with a couple of different additional lenses and left his desk ready for the morning’s work. As he gathered up the sketches he’d doodled over lunch, Oli wondered what state his house would be in upon his return, how much damage would be done by the strange wolf. He had not smelt angry, but a lot could change in a day.

As he left work, Oli wondered what he might tell the canine, how he might react in the late hours of the weekend when Oli’s life took its usual monthly twist into complications dictated by blood and lineage. Oli stopped at the little supermarket on the way home, picked up some stuff for dinner and a large portion of braising steak for the visiting wolf, and pondered the possibility of having company for once on the full moon.