The crafty fox stood, now as a woman beneath the treacherous star, cold and unsure of the world around her. This world, this familiar life, could no longer sustain her.
The man, a little farther along in years, saw the woman, vulnerable in her raw nakedness. Lonely now, with just him and his young son, he felt a tug towards the woman. Protect. The need pulled on his heart. Protect.
Lost, cold, and unsure, the woman allowed the man to lead her to safety, as he offered her love on whispered promises.
The man covered her nakedness with loose clothing. The wild thing inside her could not tolerate binding. He covered her in warmth and fed her. She curled up by his fire, and he gave her her space. She learned to smile when he became impatient with her distance. He did not push; he was a good man, even when his patience waned, and he needed more.
She learned to perform simple tasks, give back, and earn her keep, but her heart remained wild and un-domesticated.
A mutual curiosity developed between the woman and the son. Protect. The need pulled on her heart. Protect.
The man found satisfaction in the life they had created. He loved the woman and felt at peace with their situation.
He may not have been with the woman as a man and wife, but her presence comforted him. Just looking across the room and seeing her there, the space she occupied, was comforting.
He saw her stare out the windows, to the woods beyond, telling her it wasn’t safe outside, adding to her insecurity.
She felt like she could run, swim, hunt, pounce, bite, play, and have joy. She felt that being safe was more than just being safe.
The man had his own fears, so he kept the doors locked, offering great kindness, patience with her oddities, and safety.
The boy saw her also and left the door ajar one night after his father had fallen asleep.
She sensed the open door and smelled the once-familiar scents of what lay beyond the walls. Hesitantly, slowly, the woman inched the door open, smelling and tasting the air, recalling instincts almost lost. One bare foot forward, she stepped, then brought the other to the front. Outside, she smelled the damp evening grass, the decay, and the new life in the woods, just a short sprint ahead.
She sprinted under the crescent moon, finding her eyes were well-adjusted for the night. She gloried in the feel of the air as it brushed through her hair and caressed her face. She did not mind the sharp stones or fallen twigs that bruised the bottom of her feet.
The woman threw off the covering the man had placed over her, for her warmth and safety, and sprinted towards the lake before her. The light of the moon danced across its surface, shining ripples gliding across the water as she dove in.
Unaccustomed to the excursion, the woman pulled herself to the shore, feeling the weight of the world around her once again. Gathering the temporarily discarded clothing, she walked back to the safety and warmth of the home that had been lovingly provided for her; her heart was heavier with every step, feeling the loss of herself once again.
The man met her at the door, uncertainty in his eyes. He offered her a towel and led her to the hearth of a newly lit fire. He wrapped her in a warmed blanket and offered a small smile.
The boy, now awake, sat near, watching the woman as his father returned, offering her a sandwich and a glass of water. She accepted them in gratitude, returning a sincere smile to the man, who nodded his silent agreement. He saw the two and felt the shift, garnering the start of a lesson meant for him.
The ripple of existence dances across them all.
P.K. Glaser 2/8/2024