Drayla, aged 6, carefully made her way down the steep concrete steps leading to the backyard of the home that her parents had just purchased. Arriving safely at the base of the flight, she looked out curiously at the dense verdant woods fronting the property. At her approach, flocks of starlings fluttered into the azure sky and colorful robins remained perched upon the rain-filled birdbath.
“Don’t wander into the woods, Drayla,” he stepfather had admonished her yesterday, in the stern way he had of speaking to her. “The forest if full of evil creatures,” he’d gone on, thoroughly scaring the little girl, who was still, after more than a month, unused to the bear of a man that her mother had chosen to wed. Drayla still dreamed of her father, who had perished in a workplace accident almost two years before.
Drayla had instantly disliked this new man, but her mother had taken her aside and said that “Doug will take care of us, baby. You’ll learn to love him, like I do.” But Drayla remained unconvinced. This stranger, who now insisted that she call him “Pop,” seemed cold and forbidding and thoroughly unlovable. Drayla still loved her real father, though he seemed to be fading from her memory more each day, disappearing like quicksilver through her fingers.
Drayla had overheard her mother and her stepfather talking the night before, in their bedroom, when they thought, incorrectly, that Drayla was abed. She was fond of evesdropping and did it often.
“I’d love to have your baby, Doug,” Mom was saying. “You know I want a bigger family; we discussed this befoe we were married. But, when the time is right,” she went on. “We just moved to a new town, into a new house, and we’ve both got new jobs as well. Let’s settle in a bit first, alright?”
Doug’s harsh, gutteral tones rumbled forth. “Sure, I agree, Marilyn,” he said. “But all my life I’ve wanted children of my own. I can hardly wait.”
“Drayla is your child too, now,” Mom said, a little reprovingly. “I want you to get close to her, Doug.”
Doug’s voice rumbled again, but Drayla couldn’t catch the words.
“I don’t want her, at six years old, to call her father figure by his first name,” said Mom. Doug told her that he understood and that he agreed. Next, the light in the bedroom went out and the voices grew silent. Drayla tiptoed back to her own room. It was the following day, this morning, that Doug had suggested that Drayla call him “Pop.” She’d rolled her eyes.
Drayla padded across the huge back yard until she reached the tree line, where she halted. The timber and undergrowth were so dense that when she stepped into the forest proper, she could barely squeeze through the foliage. This is too much work, she thought, and was about to turn back when she spotted it: a puppy! Her mind awhirl, Drayla pushed anxiously through the bramble and brush in hot pursuit of the tiny dog. Then she lost sight of it. With eager eyes, she searched till she saw it. It was hurt! A gray and black phantom, it was limping forlornly along what turned out to be a seldom-traveled trail. Drayla rushed forward and knelt to take the creature into her arms when she heard a ferocious growl.
Instantly frightened into immobility, the child’s mouth fell open when she spotted a huge, gaunt she-wolf, looking half-starved, but glaring malevolently at the human interloper. Instantly, Drayla backed away, intent on retracing her steps through the forest. But looking frantically about her, realization fell upon her like a bag of sand: she was lost! Every inch of the woods looked exactly the same.
The wolf advanced a step in Drayla’s direction, but the creature became distracted when the pup whined piteously. The she-wolf looked at the cub for a second, then back at Drayla; its lips curled back over long, yellow teeth. Drayla was terrified. Acting on instinct, she backed up a step. Then another. The whelp whined again and the she-wolf lowered her head and licked the pup. Maybe, Drayla thought, she could sneak away; but suddenly she stepped on a fallen branch and the sound of the branch snapping rang like a gunshot through the forest. The wolf looked up sharply and bared its teeth again.
Unexpectedly, a loud human voice echoed through the timberland. Drayla instantly recognized Doug’s deep rumble. “Dray!” the voice shouted again. Drayla glanced at the she-wolf, whose ears had pricked up at the sound. But, it advanced no further in the child’s direction. “Dray!” the thunder-like voice shouted a third time. Finally, Drayla found her voice.
“I’m here!” she yelled as loudly as she was able. But, her voice was only a choked whisper.
“I heard something,” another person said. “Over here, I think.” Several people were speaking in elevated voices.
Drayla took a deep breath. “Here I am!” shrilled the six-year-old desperately. Would the wolf eat her before the search party found her? she wondered frantically. She attended church every Sunday with her family, but was not yet baptized. She wondered if that would make a difference, should she die today in this forest. Suddenly, behind Drayla, boots were tromping forward, crunching through the detritus on the forest floor. The she-wolf clasped her pup in her jaws and hurried away. Drayla’s heart turned over.
Through the underbrush three men appeared as if by magic. First among them was Doug. “Oh, Drayla,” he said, sobbing emotionally and snatching her off the ground. In the months they had all lived as a family, she’d never seen him so upset. Certainly he’d never wept. Safely in her stepfather’s arms, she pressed her face into the fabric of his red flannel shirt. She inhaled his scent and snuggled. He crushed her to his chest. “I was so worried,” he said, still crying, though now it was with relief. The men had not spied the wolves. “Are you alright?” he asked, pulling her back to stare into her blue eyes. Then Doug really did like her, she thought jubilantly, figuratively pumping a fist into the air. “I’m good now,” she said, looking happily into his tear-rimmed eyes, “Pop!”
Bill Tope