A Conversation That I Imagined Happened During a Near-Death Experience a Few Nights Ago

Once, on a cold night, a few nights ago, I stood in the garden. I allowed the wind to make contact with my skin. I absorbed the glow of the moon. I stared at The Wolf. 

The Wolf’s eyes gave me a glare of ill intent. Her grey fur glowed from this distance. She whispered to me. 

“What are you doing in the garden so late, and on such a cold night?”

She stepped toward me. 

“I am here to feel the wind on my skin and absorb the glow of the moon.”

I replied, my voice shaky. This was not a friendly Wolf. This was a Wolf of malice, of nightmares. She continued to step toward me until her paw touched my foot. I felt her claw, sharp, and winced in pain.

“You have never been in the garden at night.” She whispered. “The garden at night has always belonged to me.”

The claw dug deeper into me with each word as The Wolf looked up at me. 

“I am in the garden now.” I replied, more terrified than I ever had been. “And the garden is where I intend to stay. I believe we can share the garden.”

She lifted her paw from my foot and instead began circling me, a steady pace. Step. Step. Step. Step.

“I have never had to share the garden. I have always had the garden to myself, to feed upon the possums and the raccoons. I feed upon mammals in the garden. Now, the only mammal in the garden is the one within my circle.”

She lunged at my leg and bit it, bringing me to my knees and bringing us face-to-face. I could feel that blood had been drawn, as I felt it trickle down my horizontal lower leg and onto the garden floor. 

“I decided to change one thing about my nightly schedule. I did not know you used the garden at this time.”

The Wolf snickered. She began pacing around me, stepping on my open wound. 

“Neither do the possums, nor do the raccoons. What makes you different?” 

I searched frantically for an answer to her question. There must be something that sets me apart from those small mammals. 

“Unlike the possums, unlike the raccoons, I have friends. Friends that could kill you, were you to feast upon me.” 

The Wolf pondered. I awaited her decision anxiously. Was it enough? 

The Wolf nodded. “Leave here.” She said, and she sat down in front of me. I walked warily back inside my house. 

I no longer stand in the garden at night, but every night since then I have sat at the window, watching The Wolf on the hunt. Perhaps the conversation was imaginary, but the danger, the intent, and the outcome, that was real.