Evergreen Forest

"So, this lion and the shepherd?"

One notched ear swiveled in the direction of the scholar beside her. Jackie matched the she-wolf’s pace easily with her lanky limbs as they began their journey, the pain in her injured paw now completely vanished. ”Aye, this ‘ere’s a fine tale,” she replied, a small chuckle sounding. Her golden eyes were alight with the pleasure of having an audience for once. After clearing her throat, the rust-colored rogue began her story. ”The lion, ye see, is an awf’lly proud creature. He walks with ‘is ‘ead held high and chest puffed out, lookin’ down ‘is nose at anythin’ that dares cross in front of ‘im. Few fellas ‘ave the moxy to challenge ‘im. E’en fewer live t’say they did.” Jackie took a pause for breath. Her tone had carried hints of admiration as she described the beast. In a way, she was also describing her own character. The notion brought a crooked smile to her maw. After a side-long glance to the doctor, the she-wolf continued. ”This lion, ye might be thinkin’, is quite a mean bloke. It goes without sayin’ that when ‘e got an acacia thorn stuck fast in ‘is toe, the lion was rightfully vexed. Ye might be askin’ now- Why’s a monster such as ‘im so rankled by a sliver? and I will remind ye: he’s a very proud creature.” Another pause was taken. Her eyes had lost their glint and were now significantly darker. ”He couldn’t stand to ‘ave a weakness, ‘specially if others saw it. Despite all ‘is strength an’ power, the lion couldn’t get the blasted thing out ‘imself, an’ so, ‘e had to do the unthinkable: ask for help.” Jackie paused again. Her voice had taken on a flinty edge with those last few words and her eyes were hard as stone.

Briefly, she allowed her mind to wander back to when she had first approached the scholar. It had chafed the red wolf terribly to admit her weakness to someone she barely knew. If the blasted sliver of wood hadn’t hurt like it did, her pride would most likely have forced her to go on until the nickname “Tripod” was not just an ironic joke. This thought brought a deep frown to her muzzle. For a large portion of her life, Jackie had relied on her fortitude and tenacity for survival. She had walked with her head held high and her chest puffed out. Her bright eyes regarded everyone with disdain and hauteur. Very few dared stand up to her. Even fewer lived to tell the tale. And yet, a miniscule splinter had reduced the bandit to a beggar. The frown deepened into a scowl at these further musings.

With a slight jolt, Jackie realized she had fallen silent for several moments while her mind ran away with her. She cleared her throat again and cast another side-long glance to the doctor before picking up the story again. ”Lucky for ‘im, a shepherd crossed his path not but a day after. Now this shepherd, ye see, was a kindly fellow. The flock ‘e kept was ne’er known to be ill or in a bad way.” Jackie’s voice had resumed its initial lilting cadence, but a cynical edge was beginning to creep in. ”An’ so, when the lion spotted the shepherd, ‘e played ‘im like a harp. He fawned o’er the boy, wagged ‘is tail an’ all, as if to say: I am but a lowly beggar, seekin’ charity. O’course, the good-hearted sprout took pity on the beast an’ picked up ‘is massive paw, laid it flat on ‘is knee, an’ plucked the offendin’ splinter out. No longer ailin’, the lion returned to ‘is own patch.” The red wolf took a moment to navigate over another fallen log. She took extra care in scaling this one, and when no slivers found themselves buried in her toes, Jackie grinned triumphantly.

Her story continued. ”Now, I’ll say again- this shepherd’s flock was mighty impressive. Many men were quite covetous an’ resentful of ‘im. One fellow went as far as denouncin’ the shepherd t’ the village guard. The charge was hogwash, o’course, but this was a different time. Our poor shepherd boy was cast to the lions for ‘is troubles. That was considered justice.” These last few words were practically growled out. Her voice was low and hard as she continued. ”The whelp was dropped in a pit with naught but a barred door in the far wall. After ‘is supposed crime and sentence were read to ‘im once more, the grate was lifted an’ the lion released. Rather than attack the boy, ‘owever,” Jackie paused, perching atop a small boulder, ”the beast walked calmly up to ‘im, wagged ‘is tail, an’ held up a paw. It just so ‘appened that said lion was none other than the one ol’ sheep-boy ‘ad helped out. Ye might be wonderin’ now- If the lion was such a miserly fellow, why didn’t ‘e kill the shepherd?” She leapt from the boulder and resumed her pace. ”Aye, the animal was decidedly not a nice bloke, but where ‘e wasn’t kind, ‘e was just. Beneath that icy glare an’ fierce temper, there was a decent sense of right an’ wrong. The lion felt it was not just to dispatch the boy after ‘e had so gently pulled the thorn from ‘is toe, an’ so, the beast did not lift a claw against the shepherd.” The red wolf’s tone had grown almost wistful with the last few sentences. This story’s sense of compassion had always baffled her, no matter how many times the tale was recounted to her. There was no small amount of irony in the fact that this was one of her favorite yarns.

Quickly, she stopped her musings and resumed the account, her tone easy and light. ”No matter the length of time they remained in that pit, the lion never once spilled the boy’s blood. News o’ this strange happening traveled quickly. Upon hearing ‘bout the ordeal, the King ‘imself pardoned the shepherd and had the beast returned to ‘is forest.” A crooked grin twitched at the corners of her mouth. ”I’ve ‘eard it said by many an old salt that in a faraway land, there is an elderly man with the grandest flock o’ sheep ya ever did see. Guarding this flock, it’s also said, is a massive lion with teeth of ivory an’ a thick coal mane. The old shepherd is the only one who can lay a hand on this animal, and no rustler dares touch but a single ewe for fear of losing an arm.” With the end of her tale, Jackie cast a glance to the scholar, curious about what she would say. It surprised her, really, that she had even agreed to recount this story in the first place. The rogue had only been present in the area for a short time, yet she was already telling old yarns to wolves she knew next to nothing about. This thought caused an almost pensive frown to crease her muzzle.