Travis the Wolf-Child

Once there was a little boy named Travis. As a small child, he was bitten by a werewolf. Don’t ask me why. Some werewolves can be quite cruel. Just like everybody else, really.

Ever since that fateful night, under the cold, pale moon, Travis transformed. Fur covered his body. His ears grew pointed. His fingernails turned to claws. His nose and mouth elongated into a snout and jaws full of sharp, canine fangs.

All of this was rather worrisome for Travis’ parents. They thought they’d be raising a young boy. Instead, they now had their hands full with a young werewolf who would howl at the moon. What would the neighbors think? How could they explain all the howling? They supposed they could get a dog, but how long would that ruse last? Not to mention the fact that Travis’ father was allergic. He sneezed something terrible whenever Travis transformed.

His parents didn’t think they could handle the shame—the disgrace of having a werewolf for a son. But they told themselves they were only thinking of what was best for him. What sort of life would he have? At best, he’d live in a cage, poked and prodded at by scientists doing experiments on him. Or maybe he’d be laughed at by circus-goers. At worst, he’d be hunted down by those who feared his kind. That was no way for him to live.

From searches on the internet and conversations with experts, Travis’ parents learned that there was no known cure for lycanthropy. No cure except a silver bullet. To their credit, they didn’t want that for their son. But they didn’t know what was to be done about Travis.

Finally, they decided on what they thought was the loving thing to do with their one-year-old son. They took him deep into a far-off forest—away from civilized society—and found a small clearing. Setting him down on a bed of pine needles, they put a rattle in his hand to keep him occupied and distracted. His mother kissed his cheek and his father ruffled his hair. Then his parents just walked away. Out of sight, out of mind, and that was that. Problem solved.

Alone in the woods, Travis sat and played with his rattle. He burbled happily—having no idea that his parents had just abandoned him. But perhaps that was a mercy. He didn’t need to know that he’d been abandoned—unwanted.

Eventually, Travis grew bored of his rattle. About three minutes after his parents left, actually. One-year-olds have short attention spans, you know. He looked around and realized he was all alone. He didn’t see his parents anywhere. He waited and waited. They weren’t coming back. Travis began to cry. Tears rolled down his cheeks. His stomach rumbled, and he wailed even louder. He cried for a long, long time.

The noise of his rattle, his burbling laughter, and finally, his crying did not go unnoticed in that deep, dark forest. The shadows lengthened and grew, and the day turned to night. Yellow eyes gleamed from within the shadowy foliage across the clearing from Travis. A low growl rumbled from deep within the foliage.

Travis didn’t notice. He kept on wailing, inconsolable.

A lone wolf stalked out of the darkness. The wolf’s fur was raised and bristling—lips curled back in a ferocious snarl. Her yellow eyes were locked on Travis. This was her forest. She halted in front of the small toddler, ready to pounce.

Travis looked up. He saw the wolf and he stopped crying. He giggled, delighted. He reached out with his tiny hand for the wolf’s face. The creature shied back with another growl, louder this time. She tensed, ready to snap at the young boy. Just then, a sliver of the cold, pale moonlight broke through the trees and fell upon Travis.

Imagine the wolf’s surprise when Travis transformed into a little werewolf right before her very eyes! She blinked. The wolf wasn’t certain about what had just happened, but the small human now looked like a young wolf pup. She hadn’t seen many humans in that far-off forest, but she knew that didn’t usually happen. She crept forward and sniffed him cautiously. He smelled like a wolf.

Travis sneezed in the way that dogs and wolves sneeze—shaking his head violently. He hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning. He sat back on his haunches and whined up at the she-wolf. His yellow eyes were filled with pleading. He looked utterly helpless.

The she-wolf looked down at Travis. He wasn’t hers. She had no obligation to take him in—she wasn’t even entirely sure what he was. But she couldn’t just leave him here all alone. She knew that if she did, he wouldn’t survive. She could tell that much just by looking at him. He had no idea how to make it out in the wilds. The wolf hesitated. Then, she licked his furry cheek. He was hers now.

Travis giggled, but now his laughter sounded like amused, little yips. Then, he saw the moon poking through the tree canopy. He lifted his head and let out a howl. After a moment, the she-wolf sat on her haunches. She tilted her head back and howled as well. Their voices wove together in harmony under the cold, pale moonlight. From deeper within the forest, Travis and the she-wolf heard more howling.

The rest of her pack was answering—calling them home.

The she-wolf licked Travis’ cheek one more time and padded away from him toward the edge of the forest clearing. Travis whined but didn’t follow her. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to follow the she-wolf.

She looked back and saw that he was sitting under the tree still. She loped back over to him and picked Travis up gently by the scruff of his neck with her teeth. She carried him like a newborn pup for a few feet. Then she set him down again. With a nudge of her nose, she pushed him forward and then continued padding through the forest at a slow pace.

Travis tottered after her, unsure at first and then gradually more confident. His wobbling steps became a staggering run as he loped alongside the she-wolf. Somehow, he knew. If he stayed beside the she-wolf, he’d be safe. He’d have a family in the forest among the wolves.

Once there was a little boy named Travis. As a small child, he was bitten by a werewolf. His parents didn’t know what to do with him. They didn’t know how to raise him, so they abandoned him in a far-off forest and left him there to die. Instead, Travis was found by a she-wolf who took him back to the rest of her pack.

They took him in as one of their own. He didn’t choose them, they chose him. From that fateful night on, he was one of them. That was that. They didn’t care that he didn’t look like them during the day—that he wore a different set of skin under the warm, bright sunlight. Under the light of the cold, pale moon, Travis howled alongside them. He ran with the rest of the wolves through the forest. He was wild, he was loved, and he was free.

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