Galina stood near the dark pool, its surface cold and menacing. For a moment, her heart froze, then it began to thud again, slow and uneven, as though it were struggling to escape her chest.
Snowflakes, like tiny tears from the heavens, melted on her face, cascading down her hair and the package she clutched tightly in her hands.
Within that package, wrapped in an old wolf’s hide, her son lay sleeping. He snored softly, peaceful and innocent, oblivious to the world around him. Galina’s heart twisted with sorrow as she thought bitterly, “Bit by bit, he turned out like a heretic!” Her mind replayed the events that had led to her misfortune.
Kneeling at the water’s edge, she could feel the wind go still, as though the world itself had paused, taking in the moment—mother, child, and the cold water that seemed to promise a final release.
Galina’s mind raced back to the events of the past year. Just a year ago, she was a star student, the pride of her school, filled with dreams and a bright future ahead. One May day, as she walked with her friends, she bumped into a tall stranger with a backpack. The girls laughed and ran ahead, but Galina, lifting her gaze, locked eyes with the man. His blue eyes sparkled with laughter, and in them, she felt herself drown.
“A geologist, a newcomer,” she recalled. It was the beginning of what seemed like a simple, carefree connection. She, a seventeen-year-old Siberian girl, and he, a Moscow geologist in town for his work.
They spent hours talking, laughing, and he recited poems to her—not his own, but ones that seemed written just for her, for Galina.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment every time he looked at her with those sparkling blue eyes. She felt an undeniable spark, a connection strong enough to light up the world. That night, as she lay in bed, she replayed their conversation over and over in her mind, imagining a future together, building a home, and raising children.
But the fairy tale ended abruptly. In early July, Sergey returned to Moscow after completing his work. He never said goodbye to Galina, leaving without an explanation. The brief romance they had shared in the taiga turned out to be nothing more than a fleeting moment in his life. He returned to his family, vacationing with his wife and son by the Black Sea, never once thinking about Galina again.
The harsh truth hit Galina like a lightning strike when she learned from the expedition leader that Sergey was married, with a child. Her heart sank, her shoulders slumped, and she walked back to the village in a daze. Her head began to spin, her breathing grew shallow, and soon she collapsed onto the grass.
When she awoke, it was in the tent of the geological survey’s doctor. The kind-eyed woman doctor looked at her with concern.
“Such a child,” the doctor thought. “I have one like that at home.”
“Are you feeling better?” the doctor asked softly. Then, in a calm voice, she added, “You’re pregnant.”
At first, Galina didn’t understand. She absentmindedly twisted a lock of hair around her finger, trying to process the words. But soon, the weight of the situation sank in, and she slumped back on the couch, her mind reeling.
“What?” she asked, her eyes wide in disbelief.
The doctor, sensing her distress, tried to reassure her, “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. It’s natural for women to bear children. You understand, don’t you?”
Galina silently rose and left the tent, avoiding the eyes of the other geologists.
She kept the pregnancy a secret from her grandmother and best friend, Tamara. The life she had dreamed of—becoming an actress—seemed impossible now. She woke up every day, went through the motions of helping her grandmother, but her thoughts were far from her tasks. Often, she would sit by the window, staring blankly at the forest path, feeling as though words would shatter her fragile world.
Grandmother Dunya, perceptive as she was, soon guessed what had happened. Cursing Sergey and the geologists in one breath, she tried to console Galina.
“Don’t worry, a boy will be born. He’ll grow, and he’ll be your helper. I’m not too old yet. We’ll raise him together. And if a good man comes along, he’ll marry you both.”
Galina pressed herself against her grandmother’s knees, weeping as the old woman stroked her hair. Life had not been kind to Dunya either, and she had raised her own daughter, who disappeared, leaving behind a one-year-old granddaughter.
When Galina’s grandmother passed away, it seemed like the last thread of hope snapped. The funeral was the next day, and on that very day, Galina gave birth. With the snowstorm preventing travel, the neighboring veterinarian’s wife helped deliver the baby. The woman commented, “Look at this tiny one, yet she’s brought a hero into the world.”
After her departure, Galina was left alone with her son, feeling both joy and sorrow, her heart heavy with the weight of her circumstances.
Standing at the water’s edge now, Galina considered ending it all—putting an end to this miserable life. But there was something inside her that refused to give up, to let go of the child she had brought into the world.
The she-wolf’s heartache echoed through the icy winds. Alone, with no more pups to care for and the bitter memory of a lost mate, she wept at her own loss. But when she encountered the scent of a human, she felt a strange pull. The she-wolf’s instincts led her to a lone man carrying a parcel, and as she neared, she could sense food inside—a promise of survival.
Without thinking, the she-wolf seized the parcel, disappeared into the hills, and the hunter, puzzled and wary, observed her from a distance. That night, Galina collapsed, overwhelmed by the events that had unfolded. She was found the next day, her gaze frozen, her lips curled in a silent scream.
As winter slowly receded, the she-wolf returned to her den, where her pup awaited. She hunted, nourished her young, and protected the den, unaware that a human hunter was drawing near. When the hunter discovered the den, a battle ensued, and the she-wolf fought fiercely to defend her pup. But the hunter, now face to face with the child, hesitated. The child’s tiny hands reached for the wolf, as if drawn to the maternal warmth the creature provided.
The hunter, wounded and retreating, eventually left the den behind, and in the morning, the she-wolf and the child were gone. The hunter’s search proved fruitless, and the villagers could find no trace of the pair.
Months later, a group of geologists discovered a small child, lying on the soft moss beside the she-wolf’s lifeless body. The wolf, in her final act, had returned the child to the human world, where he would soon be taken in, but the she-wolf’s journey had ended.
The story of the She-Wolf and her unexpected bond with the child lived on, carried in whispers through the village, as a tale of both maternal sacrifice and unspoken ties that transcend the barriers of species.