So, this has been writen for a while, it was finished back in April. I just haven't posted it until now. This was the last thing I wrote for tutoring (which I've stopped by the way), so it was proofread a lot. I'm sure you can still find errors though. I have mixed feelings about the story, but oh well. Anyway, enjoy!
An old woman sat on an ancient couch reading a book. She could hear the pitter patter of her grandson’s feet, but did not look up. “Gran’ma,” he cried as he bounded into the room.
Still, the elderly woman did not look up. She did, however, acknowledge him. “Hm?” she said.
“Gran’ma,” the boy began, “When is it going to snow?” The grandmother finally looked up at him. The sight of her young grandson made her chuckle. The boy had wrestled into his winter coat and boots. He had pulled his hat on and clutched his mittens in his tiny hands. She set her book on the side table next to her and held her hands out to him.
“Come here honey,” she said, and the boy scampered up to her. She groaned quietly as she hoisted him up onto her lap. He squirmed for a few minutes before settling in the crook of her arm. Once he was comfortable, he looked up at his grandmother with great anticipation. The aging woman took a moment to gather her thoughts. “It’ll snow,” she said, “when the wolf beats the elk.”
“What’s an elk?” he asked.
“Do you know what Santa’s reindeer look like?”
The boy nodded.
“Well, elk are sort of like them,” she said.
“Oh,” the boy said. “What game do they play?”
“Tag,” his grandmother said.
“So, when do we know when the wolf wins?” the young child asked.
“That’s a long story,” the grandmother said. She was expecting him to press for the story.
“So?” he said.
The woman grinned. “Are you sure you won’t get bored?”
Her grandson nodded his head with great enthusiasm. The grin on her face grew into a full blown smile. She loved tormenting him.
“If you’re sure,” she said, using an unconvinced tone. She sighed dramatically before beginning the story, “Well, it all takes place in a forest…”
The forest was unlike any other. These woods were called home by spirits who oversaw their jobs here. The wolf controlled winter, and the elk oversaw fall. It was late fall and the forest was overflowing with color; gold and orange leaves decorated the trees and ground. The morning air was brisk and the animals could see their breath. Most of the forest’s birds had migrated by now, so the woods were eerily quiet.
Near the edge of the forest, there was a large clearing. A huge herd of elk was gorging themselves on foliage before the frost killed it. A massive stag lifted its head and looked through the trees surrounding the herd. The stag had antlers that spanned the length of a car and stood taller than any other elk. His dark brown eyes were transfixed on a spot between several large and ancient trees. Suddenly, his keen eyes caught sight of the first snow flakes as they drifted down to Earth. The other elk saw the snow and the affect was immediate; all heads shot up. Their senses strained, searching for any sign of danger. Every year, when it began to snow for the first time, one of them died.
The great stag stomped his hooves. His large, coffee colored eyes scanned the tree line. The forest remained silent and the elk became more and more agitated. His heart was pounding. Instinct was telling the stag that there was danger lurking nearby, watching him.
There, in between the trees, was a flash of white. The stag bolted, fearing the worst: a wolf. The others followed suit; they did not want to risk becoming a meal.
A howl permeated the air, breaking the silent atmosphere of the forest and sending the herd into complete anarchy. The snow picked up and fell harder as wolves began to break free from the forest. They raced towards the herd, slowly circling their target. More and more wolves burst through the trees and helped herd the ill-fated elk away from the others. The wolves, after a hard chase, managed to catch the elk. They had it trapped between them and the woods.
The great stag paced anxiously within the circle. The wolves knew that he could not maneuver as well in the woods as he could in the clearing. He searched for a chance to escape, but he did not know which wolf to watch. At any moment, one of the predators could attack. The wolves were crouched, snarling and focused on their prey. They slowly crept forward, pressing the elk closer to the forest’s edge.
In desperation, the stag turned towards the woods, hoping to lose the wolves with the trees. Then, in mid-turn, he saw a giant white wolf erupt from the forest. The wolf tackled the great elk to the ground. The snow fell heavily and soon it blanketed the forest in white.
“Honey, there’s no need to cry,” the grandmother cooed.
“But, the elk got hurt,” he said in between sobs.
The grandmother held him to her and rubbed his back. “Now, did I say it got hurt?” she used her scolding voice.
“No,” the boy simpered.
“Then, it didn’t,” she said. She was lying, but she wanted him to stop crying. The lie did wonders, the boy was reassured and began to calm down. “Why don’t you go tell Grandpa the story,” she said.
The boy nodded and slid from his grandmother’s lap to the floor. He sniffled and rubbed the tears away from his eyes. With heavy feet, he walked away from his grandmother towards the basement. Once he had left the room, he cried, “Gran’pa!”
The grandmother sighed; she never liked to see her grandson upset. She picked up her book and went back to reading. Her husband was terrified of wolves. A wide grin spread across her wrinkled face as she read. Once her grandson told him the story, he would rant and rave about it for hours, but she could not resist tormenting him. Shortly after her grandson’s departure, she heard her husband yelling her name and storming up the stairs, and she could not help but laugh.