Scent of Canini

They were back, briefly.  Their scent raised the hackles on my neck.  My stomach still flutters.

I wasn't expecting them, although to be fair I rarely do.  They tend to show up unannounced, by stealth.  Its what makes them successful at their what they do.  I know it isn't personal.  It would be foolish and dangerous to take it personally.  After all, we are all part of the same mental ecosystem, aren't we?  We are all fulfilling our niche in the system, right?  Then I shall not fight it.  I shall attempt to deal with them with as much aplomb and dignity I can muster.  They are not my enemies.  They are simply part of me that occasionally takes leave of the wilderness within, to arrive in my backyard.  Hungry, maybe.  Watching.  Waiting.

This time, I felt them before I saw them.  Silently padding out to the edge of the woods that ring the safe haven in my mind.  I was thinking about change in my life.  I was thinking about pasts and futures and the Now in between.  The bridge of the Now.  I had my eyes closed at first.  But then that scent crept into my nostrils, that peculiar combination of musk and iron and anxiety.  The breath caught in my throat and I had to force myself to swallow and open my lungs.  Months since the last visit and I had no desire to see them again.  A deep breath and I told myself to not panic.  I would not run.  I would not cower.  I would deal with them straight away.

The eyes in the theater of my mind snapped open.  I rose from my chair, in the shade of the trees where I also hang the mental hammock.  Gazing across the meadow of my mind, the wolves were there arrayed against the tree line like soldiers, low-slung and furry.  They had been padding forward, but stopped when they saw me get up.  I took a step or two forward, and they stopped.  They all sat down on their haunches, eyes clear and bright and fixed on me.

I may have trembled, briefly.

For a score of heartbeats, we stared at one another, the wolves and I.  I stood still as I could manage.  They sat, placid in their presence.  Sweat trickled from my brow.  My legs twitched, as did their flanks.  This Now would be different.  I would not run.

I took a step toward them.  And another.  They began to rise to their feet.  I kept going.  My furred visitors backed away.  I broke into a jog, and they turned away suddenly, pausing at the edge of the woods.  I actually laughed, at which point the pack bolted into the woods.

The Fear ebbed away.  It was there, like a whisper, but not so insistent.   The wolves and I, we have an understanding.  Sometimes, they get me.

But sometimes, I get them.