“Ijape, are you coming inside?” my human asks from the doorway as a vicious gust of wind peppers my face with sand. I lift up my head, then flop it down with a whimper. My human steps onto the porch as a lightning bolt shrieks into a lone tree near the barn. “Ijape, get inside—it’s not safe,” she pleads with me. Something is wrong—but it’s not the storm. We’ve weathered worse in our pack’s cave home. I can smell it on the wind. Something evil is close by. The hair stands up on my neck. “Ijape, what is it, girl?” my human asks as she crouches next to me. I lick her hand to assure her I’m okay. She scratches me on the head between my ears. “Okay, suit yourself.” She stands and walks back inside. As the door creaks open, I hear the baby start crying. *She’s awake from her nap, that should keep her busy for a while.* I smell the wind again. The dark menace is still close by. I wish we were back in the cave. It’s much safer than down here in the plains. Without warning and in a deafening roar, the rain arrives. Slamming against the metal roof, it drowns out the voices inside the cabin. They were anxious, talking about an alien monster. *Is that what I’m smelling? The thing they’re worried about?*  If they could sense what I could, they would’ve been a lot more scared. Sometimes I wonder how humans made it this far. Just blind, dumb luck, I guess. By my understanding, they should’ve gone extinct a long time ago. I get up and walk towards the fence line.  *Might as well circle the perimeter and make sure everything’s in order.*  Since I was a little pup, when my human’s mate plucked me out of the snow and saved my life, I’ve taken it upon myself to protect them. When the baby was born, I became even more attached. They had a lot on their plate back then—surviving the frigid winter in a cave with a newborn. I never saw them hunt, but we never seemed to run out of food. *It was a good life up there. Why did we have to leave?* Now we were way too close to the threat that I can’t stop smelling on the wind. Then, to top it off, my human’s mate had left suddenly with the older human. ![[asi-iv-sompeiCulpeo.JPG]] After a few rounds around the perimeter, and only a rabbit or two spooked, I headed back to the porch to wait out the rain. I flop down onto the creaky old deck at the top of the stairs and watch the rain splash into the puddles slowly growing larger in the mud. I hear it before I can see it and lift my head again. A few moments later, a truck’s headlights come into view. I let out a growl as it stops in the yard close to the porch stairs. A deputy gets out of the truck—a grim look on her face. “What is it, officer?” my human asks, her voice trembling from inside the screen door. I can smell her fear.  “Can we talk inside?” the deputy asks. “Come in, she won’t bother you,” my human says, holding the screen door open as the officer’s eyes bore into me, her hand coming to rest on the hilt of her pistol. I wag my tail and her hand slips off the side–arm and she lets out a deep breath.  “Thanks ma’am.”  Still, she sidles past me gingerly and quickly. A few moments later, I hear my human let out a piercing shriek, and then, with a loud thud, she collapses. *In an instant, I know—my human’s mate is dead.*  Another gust of wind batters my face and makes my eyes water. I sit up – I can no longer smell the evil in the air anymore. A wolf’s senses are uncanny; we can divinate more than you’d think just by smell. *Did my human’s mate destroy the threat I smelled in the wind? Is that what killed him?*  Another shriek of agony from inside the cabin snaps me out of my daze. It’s the older woman. *So… both of their mates are dead.* I tilt my head back and let out a mournful howl. I can hear the hearts being rent and torn by the agony of unimaginable sorrow. Humans don’t know this about us wolves but generations of inherited fear is sadly imprinted in all of us now. We helped to ensure the forest was full, silent, alive now it is empty, dead, and full of noise. When they came with their domesticated working animals, by the millions. It decimated the harmony. They chose to wipe us out to protect their greed and shortsightedness. As our packs dwindled we were forced to hide in remote and austere places. This imbalance had to correct itself - that was inevitable. The death of my humans was caused by the system righting itself. The evil was here because of the imbalance they had created centuries ago, emboldened by their greed and stupidity.  I hear more sobbing inside. The baby is crying too.  My tail tucks between my legs.  *They are in distress. Why do humans fear death so much?* I lay my head on my paws.  I want to go inside - to comfort my human but the leader of our pack is gone now. Something compels me to stay outside though. I sniff the air and sit up.  *The evil is gone!*  *Why don’t I feel at ease then?*  *Something still isn’t right…* Then I see a shadow move at the edge of the forest. A guttural growl causes the hair to stand on the back of my neck. The shadow is dead… Does it mean it isn’t a threat? It’s the older human. One of the ones who was killed. He’s standing at the edge of the forest. He whistles for me to come. I sit up and cock my head to the side. He is saying something. My ears perk up as I strain to listen. I can hear the officer inside helping my human to the sofa and offering to get her a glass of water. It’s too loud in the cabin, I can’t hear what the shadow, the ghost is saying. I scamper down the stairs and towards the fence line; then pause. I can hear him much better now.  Through his newly acquired clairvoyance he is trying to tell me something important. I sit back on my haunches and listen as his spoken guidance saunters through the wildly whipping grass and between the droplets of driving rain.  *Interesting…* Then I hear the llama bleat from the barn. She’s sad. She can smell the ghost. She knows too. I can tell by the sound her heart is broken. She loved our human’s mate. I loved him too, but not as much as she did. I turn and look at the barn and yip, letting her know I’m coming. When I turn around the ghost is gone. I have my orders though. I know what we need to do. I sprint for the barn and nudge the latch with my nose until it opens, and the llama bursts out—they call her Baba Ghanoush. You wouldn’t expect a wolf to befriend a llama—but we’re inseparable. There were many frigid nights in the dead of winter, when I was a pup, after they rescued me when she snuggled me close and made me feel loved and accepted. In the spring, a wolverine attacked her, but I scared him off. My humans never found out about it though – they were too busy mating next to the lake. “We have to go Sompí!” [^1] “Where are we going Culpeo?” [^2] she asks.  “I spoke to the dead…” I begin but Sompí interrupts me.  “I could smell it. Oh Culpeo I was so scared.” she begins to tremble.  “It’s okay Sompí. It is a friend.” I wag my tail and lick her hooves. I can sense her heartbeat slow down slightly. “It wants us to leave. He is here to collect his mate tonight — so, they don’t have to be apart. Our human and her baby, they both need to leave. Soon.” “Why?” Sompí interrupts me again.  “Warlords are coming. They are looking for new mates. She won’t be safe for long.” “But why do we have to go?” Sompí chides as she stares longingly at a tuft of bright green grass. If her heart wasn’t broken she would have eaten it with gusto. “If we’re still here it will be difficult for her to leave. If we are gone she can leave easily,” I nuzzle my snout into Sompí’s soft coat. “You should eat something.”  “I’m not hungry.” Sompí flops to the ground.  “It’s a long journey back to the cave.” I offer. “The cave?” her head lifts off the ground.  “It’s the best place for us to go. Plus I know how much you like it.” I nuzzle my snout against her side.  Sompí looks wistfully over her shoulder at the cabin. “I’ll miss them.” “I’ll miss them too - but you know we’ll see them again. The circle won’t ever stop turning.”  “Okay.” she replies solemnly, then stands.  Side-by-side we trot into the dark forest back to the cave, back to the only safe place we have ever known. --- [^1] My name for the llama. Since llama are not endemic to the area it was the closest word I could think of to call the llama. Sompí is the word for deer in Shoshone the original inhabitants of these lands. [^2] This is what the llama calls me. Her ancestors are from the Andes where there are no wolves. They do have foxes though, which they call Culpeo. It means untamed and intense. I like that it’s my name. ### Next Chapter: [[1 - Coming Soon]] ### Previous Chapter: [[27 - Moving On 🎁]]