The old woman left a PARALYZED GRANDFATHER in the forest, but what the WOLF did left everyone in SHOCK
The wolf, as if sensing his distress, lifted its head and fixed him with its piercing yellow eyes. Then it stood, stretched its mighty frame, and gently nudged James’s cheek with its wet nose. James let out a faint groan.
The wolf nudged again, more insistently, then stepped a few paces away and looked back, its gaze deliberate and commanding. It returned, nudged James once more, and moved off again, pointing the way.
James understood. There was a creek nearby in a hollow. He remembered it.
The wolf was showing him water, but how could he get there? He was immobile. Seeing James unmoving, the wolf pressed against his back and began to push.
Slowly, inch by inch, it moved the helpless body over damp earth, moss, and last year’s leaves. It was a monumental task. James felt the wolf’s muscles strain, its paws digging into the ground.
He couldn’t help, only avoid hindering. After agonizing minutes, they reached the goal—a ravine’s slope, where water gurgled below.
The wolf descended, scooped a mouthful of water, and returned, letting droplets fall onto James’s lips. It wasn’t enough. The beast went back, digging at the water’s edge to form a small pool.
Then it nudged James again until his head rested over the tiny source. With his last strength, James tilted his head and drank the cool, clear water. He drank long and greedily, feeling life seep back into his withered body.
Exhausted, he collapsed back. The wolf sat nearby, watching, panting heavily—it had saved him from thirst. But hunger was already gnawing.
His empty stomach cramped. James thought the wolf would now hunt, but after a brief rest, it rose and vanished into the forest. James thought it was gone for good.
Gratitude and a new, bitter loneliness clashed in his heart. But half an hour later, the wolf returned. In its jaws, it carried not bloody meat but something else.
It approached and gently placed several shriveled wild apples by James’s head. It must have found an old, abandoned apple tree on the forest’s edge. They were sour, hard, but to James, they were a feast.
He couldn’t pick them up, but the wolf, understanding, nudged one apple to his hand. His barely responsive fingers closed around the cold, smooth fruit. James brought it to his mouth and bit into it.
The tart juice filled his mouth—the taste of life. The day dragged on slowly. The sun climbed, its rays piercing the foliage, painting intricate patterns on the ground. James lay, recovering from the night’s ordeal. The wolf stayed close.
It rested in the shade, but its watchful eyes never left the man. It dozed, yet its ears twitched at every sound. By noon, the forest filled with its usual daytime noises—birdsong, insect hum, leaves rustling in the breeze.
James felt his senses sharpen. He could pick out a woodpecker’s tap on a distant pine, a mouse’s squeak in the oak’s roots. He and his silent guardian had become part of the forest, one with it.
Suddenly, the wolf’s head snapped up. Its ears pricked, the fur on its neck bristling. It growled low, staring into the thicket.
James felt a prickle of unease. The air grew heavier. Twigs snapped—loud, careless.
Something big and strong was crashing through the underbrush. A minute later, a bear emerged from dense hazel shrubs.
The forest’s master. A massive brown male, ambling lazily, sniffing the ground.
Its small, beady eyes locked onto the motionless man. The bear paused, nostrils flaring, taking in the scent of blood, illness, and helplessness—an invitation to easy prey.
It moved toward James slowly. Ice gripped James’s heart. Against such a beast, he had no chance.
This was the end, for certain now. He closed his eyes, unwilling to see the clawed paw descend. But a ferocious, deafening roar erupted.
The gray wolf leapt up, positioning itself between James and the bear. It was half the bear’s size, but its stance showed no trace of fear. Legs spread, fangs bared, its body a taut coil of fury and courage.
The bear halted a few steps away, surprised by such audacity. It reared up, towering over the wolf, and let out a roar that seemed to shake the trees. It expected the wolf to flee, leaving the prize.
But Gray didn’t back down. It answered with a low, menacing growl, eyes locked on the bear. This was a duel of stares, a clash of wills.
An old, solitary wolf challenged the forest’s king to protect a helpless man. The bear shifted, hesitant to attack. It wasn’t hungry enough to risk a fight with such a fierce foe.
The chance of serious injury was too high. It roared again, more for show than threat, then dropped to all fours, turned, and lumbered off, crashing through bushes.
The wolf watched it go, tense, until the sounds faded. Only then did it lower its head, shake itself, and return to James. It nudged his limp hand, as if checking he was unharmed.
James opened his eyes. He’d seen it all. He’d witnessed this incredible battle of spirits, a wild beast humans called a merciless killer risking its life for him.
Tears welled in his eyes, not from pain or despair but from awe and gratitude. He couldn’t move to pet his savior, but he looked at it. His gaze held all he couldn’t say, and the wolf seemed to understand.
It lay down beside him again, head on paws, eyes closed, but ears alert. Meanwhile, in the town, a festival was beginning. Smoke rose from chimneys, the air filled with the scent of pies, women in bright scarves bustled about, and men gathered at the well, swapping news. But Tommy, James’s neighbor, couldn’t join the cheer. A nagging unease gnawed at him.
He hadn’t seen James in over a day. Usually, on fine days, Mary wheeled him onto the porch, where he’d sit for hours, watching the street. Tommy always stopped by, exchanging a few words.
James struggled to reply, but his eyes lit up with joy at the company. Today, the porch was empty. Tommy approached their house.
The door was ajar. He knocked. Silence….