The Heart of the Lone Wolf Read Online Free Page A

nagged at the back of his mind, but he pushed those thoughts away.
    “I don’t understand. Do you have any idea how fortunate you are she didn’t harm you?”
    The Shepherd smiled.
    “And this is why I didn’t tell you. Because I knew you’d be upset about it.”
    The Wolf couldn’t remember any time his hollow throbbed like this. In the space where his heart should have been, pressure built from an invisible pulse. The tension invigorated his limbs, making it impossible to remain still. He got up and paced.
    “I know this must be a bitter irony for you,” the Shepherd said, “but that girl taught me to listen to my heart. And I haven’t been afraid ever since.”
    “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” the Wolf muttered. “But it still doesn’t fully explain why you never told me about her.”
    “Because I can’t stand to dwell on it,” the Shepherd snapped.
    The Wolf was startled enough that he stopped and stared at him.
    “Why?”
    “Ella Bandita has destroyed too many lives. If she ever dies, she’s damned.”
    “And that is as it should be! How can you have compassion for her?”
    The Wolf’s limbs quivered. Outrage and disbelief escalated the throbbing in his hollow to pure agony. It didn’t help when he saw the Shepherd peering at him and shaking his head.
    “Wolf,” he said slowly, “do you ever think about anybody but yourself?”
    “What!”
    “When are you going to accept some responsibility for what happened?”
    The Wolf thought he might explode. He itched. He started pacing again, his paws tender and thumping along the ground and his head dropping beneath his shoulders.
    When he turned the Shepherd’s way again, he caught him looking sideways at his ri fle.
    “As I recall,” the Shepherd continued. “She tried many times to spare you. Yet you kept going where you knew you weren’t wanted.”
    “If you remember everything so well, then you must realize that couldn’t have been true.”
    “Oh I remember,” the Shepherd said, a hard edge in his voice. “And didn’t she leave you in the woods? Unharmed, except for your wounded pride.”
    “She stole my heart!” the Wolf shouted. “And look at me!”
    “Are you now going to insist it was your heart you followed into the tavern?”
    The contempt in the Shepherd’s voice was more than he could bear. The Wolf looked at him and saw deceit, suddenly hating the Shepherd as much as he hated Ella Bandita. He stared at the Shepherd’s throat and lunged, jaws snapping. But the Shepherd was swift, throwing himself aside in time to evade him. The Wolf hit the ground hard, shock numbing his limbs. His fur stood on end, his snarl echoed in the air only to fall silent when he spun around. The Shepherd was back on his feet, ri fle in hand. One finger rested on the trigger and one eye stared down the foresight, piercing through the madness.
    Rage deserted the Wolf.
    “Oh no…oh no…oh no…” he moaned. “Please forgive me. I am so sorry.”
    “I’m sorry too,” the Shepherd said.
    “I don’t know what came over me. I would never hurt you.”
    “You already have and I want you to leave.”
    The thought of being alone again raised a swell of panic inside the Wolf. He cowered, but the Shepherd kept his ri fle aimed on him. For the first time since the Wolf met him, the Shepherd looked his age, timelessness falling off him like a moth-eaten cloak.
    “I’m not joking,” he said. “Get away from me or I’ll kill you.”
    The Wolf ran. He fled across the fields, going deep into the woods so he wouldn’t be seen. But he still watched the Shepherd from the trees. His head rested on his bent knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. He rocked back and forth, his shoulders shaking as only a man weeping could do. His posture didn’t change for hours. The Wolf whimpered through the vigil, but was strangely reassured when the Shepherd didn’t leave.
    As night fell, the throbbing grew worse in his hollow. The Wolf resisted the howl