The Shack: A Parable of Wolves

A single empty chair sat facing him across the desk. I sat in it and pushed the fur-trimmed hood of my red wool cloak off. His eyes widened and he struggled to contain his shock. I could see Spooky's wicked smile.

"Uncle Gregor."

"Zascha, I..."

"Shhh." I hushed him. The girl who'd married Piotr would never have dared to do that. "You murdered my Piotr, your own nephew. You couldn't just leave us to be happy. And you didn't have the wisdom to kill me, because you thought I was too weak to be important. You found it amusing to torture me and pretend to keep your word that you wouldn't 'harm' me."

I paused, studying the withered old man before me. "You and I never really talked much, so I don't think I ever told you. My Great Grandfather was Siberian. I know I don't look it, but he really was. I was his favorite, his little Angel. He used to tell me stories. Of tigers. Of bears. Of wolves."

I studied my gloves, reflecting for a second that living in the sun had made me soft, unused to the winter cold that never bothered me before. "He used to say that of all of them, hunting wolves was the most dangerous. There are rules to hunting wolves, he'd say. There are always more wolves than you think, because for every wolf you see, there are ten more in the darkness. So, it isn't only the wolf you hunt that you should be worrying about. And more than any other animal, wolves are hunters; so as you hunt them, they hunt you. "

I felt the last of my fury draining away and a peaceful tide rise.

"You cast me out to land among wolves, and I learned to howl."

I stood up, abruptly, suddenly realizing I was done with this, done with Gregor. I wanted to leave him to his fate. I wanted to be back in the sun, I wanted to just be Angel, with her Thomas, with her daughters. I gestured to my companions.

Yuri stepped to my side, as merciless and cold as winter itself. The scope of Gregor's treachery had surprised even him.

"I had more to say -- I thought about this for years. But now I realize it doesn't really matter, that you don't really matter. Not to me. But these men have many questions for you regarding treason, theft and murder. And especially the attempted sale of weapons to a terrorist organization. I think you will be answering those questions for the rest of your life. However short that might be."

As I turned to walk away with Spooky at my side, I heard the snarling red wolves closing in on the Troll King.

POST PRODUCTION NOTES:

I tried to get the rhythm and feel of Russian folk tales in the story -- I'm not sure I succeeded. I think only a Russian could really tell.

The Russian Proverb "Live with wolves, and you'll learn how to howl," is often taken to be the equivalent of "When in Rome..." but it really isn't. To Russians, the howl of a wolf is a howl of despair, and the proverb insinuates that if you live among wolves, you will learn to feel their pain and despair. In this case, I turned the meaning on its head. Angel experiences pain and despair and becomes a wolf.

MADMs existed, but are all supposedly destroyed now. And the KGB/GRU "Lightning" booby-traps were real and very nearly killed several people in Berne, Switzerland.