Appalachian Mountains, Kentucky Full Moon, 1993 A coyote howls and the hair of the back of my neck stands up. My grandparentâs cabin creaks in the wind. Iâm spending the night with them like I always do on weekends when my mom is in town tending bar.
âIf I didnât know better, Iâd say thatâs a wolf,â Grandma says, dusting flour off her hands. âBut Kentucky hasnât seen wolves in over a hundred years.â
âIâve seen a wolf.â The moment I say it, I wish I hadnât although I canât understand the twisting in my gut. All I know is that huge silver wolfâthe one Iâve come to think of as mine, the one I often feel watching meâdoesnât want to be talked about.
My uncle snorts.
My grandfather looks at me sharply. âWhereâd you see a wolf, boy?â
Now I really wish I hadnât said anything. I shake my head. âNowhere.â
My grandfather gets up from his chair, brows down. âDonât lie. You said you saw a wolf. Was it big and gray?â
I swallow and nod.
âSomethinâ unnatural about it? Somethinâ strange? Like it was big for a wolf?
Again, I nod.
A howl sounds again, this time closer. My grandfather picks up his shotgun from behind the door. My two uncles get up and do the same.
âHarold, no,â my grandmother cries.
My grandfather ignores her and opens the door to our cabin, stepping outside into the moonlight. âItâs time we take these woods back,â he says, rough determination in the set of his shoulders.
I scramble up to follow them, picking up the BB gun heâs already taught me how to use and following them out. Grandpa always lets me go with himâIâm pretty much his shadow when Iâm at his place, so Iâm surprised when he turns and holds up a hand.
âNo. You canât come this time, Charlie. Get in the house and protect your grandma.â
My shoulders draw back at the directive and I run back inside to sit by the window with the BB gun across my lap.
I donât know how much time passes before I hear a shot not far from the cabin. I leap to my feet and run to the back door, the direction it came from, throwing open the door.
âCharlie, donât come out here,â my grandfather warns in a low voice. Heâs twenty feet away, standing with his back to me. My uncles stand beside him, blocking my view of whatever theyâre looking at on the ground. Thereâs something in his voice that frightens meâlike afraid. But that doesnât make sense, heâs never afraid.
âDid you get it, Grandpa?â
âYeah, I got somethinâ all right.â Again, he sounds strange. âYou get in the house and tell your grandma to call Devon.â Devon is Grandpaâs brother who lives on the property next door. I relay the message and position myself in the open door. Grandma crowds up behind me, but thereâs nothing to see. Grandpaâs already dragging something away from the cabin through the woods. I start to go out, but Grandma catches my shoulder.
âIf your grandpa told you to stay in the house, you need to stay put.â
I reluctantly let her lead me back inside and shut the door. She turns the television on for me, but I have no interest. I stay at the windows, watching Grandpa and my uncles moving about, talking. I slide the window open to listen.
âIt a wolf. The big gray oneâthe one Callie saw when she was a teen,â my grandpa says.
Callieâs my mom. I have a daddy, but he doesnât come around much. He comes by on my birthday, brings me gifts, but she wonât let him come in, never lets him take me anywhere. She seems afraid of him although Iâve never seen any reason for it.
âWell he ainât a wolf now, Harold,â Devon says. Thereâs doubt dripping in his words like he doesnât believe what my Grandpa saw. âYou know who that is, donât you?â
, not âI know.â
A chill runs through me. Did my grandpa kill a man?
Will he go to jail?
âGo get the shovels,â my grandpa says to my uncles. âWeâll have to bury it out here on the property.â
âCome away from there, Charlie.â My grandma slams the window shut. âItâs long past your bedtime. Go brush your teeth.â I hear fear in her voice, too, which is why I donât argue. I put the gun up and go to bed.
It will take years for me to realize my fatherâs disappearance from my life coincided with that night.