Translation:The High Mountains/58

From some distant mountain, the wolf was setting out.

As he was very hungry, he reasoned:

“For a wolf like myself it's not appropriate to hunt the fox. How much longer am I going to live? One year, two? I need to sit down at the table of a big breeder”.

To tell you the whole story, our wolf is a bit old; this year he's over thirteen; he has grown old. He has moulted but has not changed his mind nor his intentions. His thoughts tend towards the great herds.

Last night, he saw in a dream that he had met up with three thousand white sheep. After that he couldn't go back to sleep. He set off to find the flock.

He marched over hill and dale, through forests of fir and pine, chestnuts and green oaks.

He crossed gorges and ridges. Tack, tack, tack! His pace sounded strong, as if he were shod. The wild animals, who knew how to recognise his pace, ran into their holes. First of all the fox, who was lying on a stone, quickly burrowed into the third tunnel of his den.

“For the fox to run away, said the badger, something's up”; and he went into an unknown hole that he found empty.

“If the badger runs off, said the stone marten, that means it's not looking good. Some good hunter must be arriving down here. Best to retire, so that my fur doesn't end up in the market”. He went into the trunk of a hundred-year-old tree. It was his house when he was young. Inside there, their mother had given them the fine fur they had, he and his brothers.

“Run for it!” said the hedgehog, and disappeared. In his fright he didn't even have time to shake himself. He had lots of dry twigs in his spines.

Only the weasel hasn't rushed off yet. He ran along the branches of an enormous chestnut tree as if to say: “What is it? What's happened?”

The weasel can't live without knowing what's going on. He looked all around with his shining sloe eyes, but no-one came up to speak. Even the most gossipy weasels were hidden.

“For all the neighbours to hide, he thought, that means something serious is afoot. Let's get out of here before we get snapped up.”

He settled on a high tree, motionless, and huddled up so he was like one thing with the branch.

The wolf missed nothing of all that. The wind brought him the odour of the wild animals that were fleeing. He even saw the pawprints of some and nodded his head.

“I've not come for you, would you believe it, he said. I'm looking for some good food. You're worth nothing to a wolf who sees three thousand sheep in his dreams! And he continued on his way.

His hunger was growing. His thirst for blood even more. He sharpened his teeth; they cut like the best knife. He was ready.

Among the white sheep, he had now started to dream of a black one in the middle. With a good-luck charm around its neck. Maybe the fetish lamb. That's it, it was the farmer's favourite lamb that he wanted to catch.

After having walked fifty kilometres, he came to the Three Peaks. He stopped satisfied. He heard the bells of old Athanase's herd: “Congratulations Thymios!” he said, because he recognised where they came from.

However, at the crucial moment, just when he was going to attack, he suddenly saw in front of him two of his cousins; Mourgos and Pistos. These two mastiffs of old Athanase sprang towards him; one heard a gunshot, a second, a third.

The herders cried, the flock became agitated, dogs were barking in the distance, unrest spread from hill to hill.

“Cousins! I've come from a foreign country, I'm starving and I'm not leaving!”

This is what the wolf would have said to his cousins, the dogs, if he had thought he'd been able to reason with them. But as he knew that with them there was no discussion, he moved into position. May the best one survive!

So he began the battle against two. He felt the teeth of the dogs like knives on his neck. But in turn, escaping, he sprang up to seize them in the same place. Rolling on the ground, one would have taken them for three dogs; or conversely, for three wolves.

The wolf had to fight against two. He needed to kill one of the two, so he'd be alone against the other, then he'd have to win against that one too, and then he would jump onto the sheep. Because he never stopped thinking about them between two bites.

And in truth, one of the dogs, Pitos, wasn't able to hold his own for very long in the fight. He took a terrible bite on the stomach. Blood flowed, Pistos bit again but his force was progressively diminishing.

But then another ferocious mastiff, Kitsos, arrived from lower down to help the others. And he threw himself into the fight full of rage. Now it was one against three.

And he still fought on against the three; he didn't forget that he was a wolf. But they were very strong. They were faithful: for months, a whole year, they'd expected him; so many nights they'd barked at him.

The wolf couldn't hold out against three united enemies. He had a deep injury at the neck. His right side was torn, and he had other lesser injuries to his head, paws and tail.

But in spite of all that he managed to escape from them. At one moment he summoned up all his strength and leapt away.

From that instant the dogs chased him. Pistos fell on the way; the two others ran a short distance from the wolf. They didn't see him, but they heard his paces or they smelt his odour. They followed him over hill and dale.

All that night he was hunted by the shepherds' dogs, their guns and their cries.

And the agitation was such that the children lost sleep. They had understood that the biggest wild animal in the forest had arrived, there, right nearby. Four or five children went out and lit a big fire outside the huts, taking care that no sparks fell on the trees. They had heard that the wolf was afraid of fire. But after that, all their fear vanished with the continual barking they heard. That meant that there were strong and faithful dogs to chase away the enemy.

At dawn the wolf was able to stop in the middle of the fir trees. He was tired and out of breath. He was hurt and had an empty stomach.

His dream hadn't come true. However, as it's unfitting for a wolf to complain, he licked his wounds and left to seek better fortunes.