Am I a wolf?
Am I a wolf?
Once again, I return to the past. Not long ago, I had a strange dream. In it, I turned into the leader of a wolf pack. There were six strong wolves in total. For several days, we trekked across a snowy landscape, utterly starved. No animals or prey were anywhere to be found. Terrible hunger gripped our insides.
Towards evening, we descended into a valley. In the distance, the lights of village cottages flickered. We leapt across a fierce stream. Suddenly, we noticed a moving object not far from us. There was no doubt—it was a solitary human. His scent was unmistakable. We cautiously set out after him.
What if he's an armed hunter? A clash with him might not turn out well for us. How many of our kind have died as a result of gunshots?
We approached the figure almost noiselessly. We found out that it wasn't an adult, but a sort of child. At that moment, we broke into a run. Unyielding hunger drove us to spend our last reserves of energy.
When the child saw us, he stood frozen in place. We had waited so long for this moment. We charged at him furiously. Our sharp teeth began tearing at his clothes. I was the first to leap at his neck. I felt warm blood. I saw a terrified little face and heard a horrible, heart-rending scream.
At that moment, I woke up in bed, drenched in sweat. The dream was so unrealistically vivid! Unpleasantly naturalistic!
For two or three days, I pondered the whole scene. What could it have meant? I firmly believe that dreams have their justification and hidden meaning.
It took quite a while before I forgot about the incident.
About half a year later, I visited a travel agency. I wanted to go somewhere out in nature, someplace where I could rest and forget everyday worries. They recommended a week-long mountain holiday tour. The area was rather off the beaten path for tourists. I liked the suggestion. At least there, I'd have peace for relaxation.
On the appointed day, I set off in a luxury bus. When we arrived, I must say my expectations were surpassed. Gorgeous surrounding landscape, clean mountain air. The hotel accommodation was excellent, the service superb, the food simply divine. I could not have wished for anything better. A perfect holiday.
On the third morning, I set off alone to explore the countryside on foot. The spring weather was beautifully sunny. Only patches of last year's snow remained here and there. After about an hour, I reached a very peculiar place.
I found myself at a crossroads. Not far away, a babbling mountain stream could be seen. It felt as if I knew this land from somewhere. But from where? Maybe a postcard or some photo? I thought hard. My eyes were drawn to a particularly strange spot. I went towards it. I saw a massive wooden cross rising from bare earth. I felt an unpleasant chill on my skin. At that moment, I realized where I knew the place from. Of course, from that dreadful dream! No way! Such coincidence and concurrence of events!
When I returned to the hotel, I was as pale as a sheet. Everyone thought I had fallen ill. I had to go lie down. A gripping headache seized me. The world briefly spun wildly around me. I took a pill. Almost immediately, I fell asleep.
I fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake until the next day. The incident kept haunting me.
I mentioned the trip to the local hotelier. He listened carefully and then said, "That cross stands there to commemorate a tragic event. Five years ago, on that spot, a pack of wolves tore apart a six-year-old boy as he was returning home from the neighboring village.”
I asked him to describe the unfortunate boy. The resemblance matched exactly what I had seen in my dream.
"It was me who strangled that innocent child,” I realized with horror.
Suddenly, I started chattering my teeth. I felt that sudden weakness again.
"Do you have chills?” the hotelier asked concernedly.
I mumbled something and ran off to my room. Once again, I developed a high fever. At night, I was delirious and hallucinating. The hotel owner visited me during the night, worried about my health. Just to be sure, he called a doctor.
Later, I learned an unpleasant fact. When the doctor was bending over me, they said I shouted in German during my coma: "Hilfe! Hilfe! Schrecklicher Wolf!”
I swear I'll never forget that stay! Nor the village, with such a melodious name—Liebensdorf, or Charming Village. A fitting name, isn't it?
Translated into English by artificial intelligence.