It was a titanic effort. James felt the wolf’s muscles straining, his paws digging into the earth. He couldn’t help; he could only not resist.
After several agonizing minutes, they reached the goal, a slope leading to a ravine where water gurgled below. The wolf went down, scooped a mouthful of water, returned, and let the droplets fall directly onto James’s cracked lips. It wasn’t enough.
So the beast went back down again and began digging at the earth with his paws at the water’s edge, forming a small puddle. Then he nudged the old man again until James’s head was directly over this tiny source. With his last strength, James lowered his head and drank the cool, clean water.
He drank long and greedily, feeling life return to his dried-up body. When he finished, he collapsed weakly to the ground. The wolf sat nearby, watching him, breathing heavily.
He had saved him from thirst, but now hunger began to make itself known. His empty stomach twisted in spasms. James thought the wolf would now go hunting, but after a short rest, the wolf rose again and disappeared into the forest thicket.
The old man thought he had gone for good. Gratitude and a new, bitter sense of loneliness battled inside him. But half an hour later, the wolf returned.
In his teeth, he wasn’t carrying a bloody piece of meat, but something else. He approached and carefully placed a few wild, shriveled forest apples near James’s head. He must have found an old abandoned apple tree at the forest’s edge.
They were sour and hard, but to James, they were a feast. He couldn’t pick them up. But the wolf, understanding this, nudged one apple with his nose directly to the man’s hand.
James’s barely responsive fingers managed to close around the cold, smooth fruit. He brought it to his mouth and bit in. The sour juice filled his mouth, and it was the taste of life.
The day dragged on slowly. The sun rose higher, its rays filtering through the leaves, painting intricate patterns on the forest floor. James lay still, recovering from the trials of the night.
The wolf never left his side. He lay nearby in the shade, but his keen eyes were constantly fixed on the man. He dozed, but his ears caught every rustle.
By noon, the forest had filled with its usual daytime sounds: birdsong, the buzz of insects, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. James felt as though his senses had sharpened, his perceptions deepened. He could hear the tapping of a woodpecker somewhere on an old pine, the squeak of a mouse in the roots of the oak beneath which he and his silent guardian lay. They had become part of the forest, one with it.
Suddenly, the wolf raised his head, his ears stood up, and the fur on his neck bristled. He growled low and deep, staring into the dense forest. James also felt a wave of anxiety.
The air had changed; it grew heavier. There was a loud, careless snapping of branches—something large and powerful was pushing through the underbrush. A minute later, from behind the thick hazel bushes, it appeared: a bear, the master of the forest, a large brown male.
He walked lazily, swaying from paw to paw, sniffing at the ground. His beady little eyes stopped on the motionless figure of the man. The bear froze, sniffing the air.
The scent of blood, illness, and helplessness was a clear invitation to easy prey. He slowly began to move toward James. The old man felt his insides go cold.
He had no chance against such a beast. This was truly the end. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the clawed paw fall upon him.
But then came a furious, deafening roar. The grey wolf leapt to his feet and in one bound stood between James and the bear. He was nearly half the size of the forest giant, but there was no trace of fear in his stance.
He stood with his front legs spread wide, teeth bared, his whole body a tense knot of rage and courage. The bear stopped a few steps away, surprised by such boldness. He rose onto his hind legs, towering over the wolf, and let out a menacing roar that seemed to make the trees tremble.
He expected the wolf to flee, leaving him the prey. But the grey one did not back down. He growled low and threateningly, his fiery eyes locked onto the bear.
It was a duel of stares, a battle of wills. The old, solitary wolf had challenged the master of the forest to defend a helpless human. The bear shifted from paw to paw, clearly unsure whether to attack.
He wasn’t so hungry as to risk a fight with such a desperate opponent. The risk of serious injury was too great. He roared again, more to intimidate than to threaten, then clumsily dropped to all fours, turned around, and crashed away into the forest, breaking bushes in his path.
The wolf watched him go for a long time, tense, until the crackling of branches faded into the distance. Only then did he lower his head, shake himself off, and return to James. He nudged the man’s unmoving hand as if checking if he was okay.