The wolf's grave

People built their village close to an ancient forest that fed and protected them as long as they took no more than they truly needed.

Lua lived with her mother and her uncle Mauro in the house that was the closest to the forest. Mauro was different from everybody. The elders said his soul was cracked like an old clay vessel, so it could hold no peace. Mauro always wanted more. In the forest, he never worked alongside others. He wandered off the path. He cut too many branches, disturbed birds in their nests, and stomped on mushroom beds.

One day Mauro walked too far. Hacking his way through the forest, he stumbled upon some wolf cubs. The mother wolf pounced at him, allowing her cubs to run away. Mauro’s knife swooshed in the air.

Drenched in blood, Mauro carried his trophy back to the village. For the first time in his life, he felt content. His happiness, though, didn’t last. People picked up the dead mother wolf but they didn’t celebrate Mauro. They said he brought misery to the village. They dug a grave for the wolf not far from where Mauro lived.

After that day, it didn’t rain. The soil crumbled and scattered like sand. Plants withered and died. Birds stopped chirping, and fish were replaced by toads in the drying-up rivers. People started rationing their water and going to bed hungry.

Mauro stopped going to bed at all. Every night he entered the forest in search of game. Every morning he returned empty-handed. He kept looking for hidden paths, for distant places, and eventually he did manage to find some remaining rabbits and squirrels. When he brought what he’d killed, nobody called his game “misery” anymore. They smiled at him, they wanted to win his attention. Mauro grinned and shook their hands.

One night, Lua came to the window to watch Mauro leave for a hunt. Something moved in the corner of her eye. She turned to look at it and couldn’t believe her eyes. There, on the pile of soil under which they buried the mother wolf, tall purple flowers were blossoming.

Lua had never seen such flowers before. They glowed in the dark and swayed without any wind, as if calling her. Lua stepped outside and walked toward the plants. Their silver pollen shimmered like moonlight. The moment she touched the pollen, something changed. She was no longer a small girl in an old dress but a large silver moth. Lua flapped her new wings and rose into the dark sky. She didn’t return until dawn. That day Mauro came back without any game.

After that, it repeated every night. Mauro would leave for a hunt, and Lua would tiptoe out of her house to fly away. In the morning Mauro would come back with nothing.

One night, a creaking floorboard woke Lua’s mother. She tried to go back to sleep, but then she felt that something was wrong. She glanced at Lua’s bed and gasped. Her daughter wasn’t there. She rushed to the window and froze as Lua’s silver wings fluttered past. Lua’s mother spent all night standing by the window.

At the first light of dawn, the white moth returned. As soon as it touched the ground, it turned back into Lua. The mother hurried back to bed and lay there motionless, listening. Lua’s bed creaked once, and after a while her breathing became deep and peaceful. The mother opened her eyes and saw leaves and needles fall to the floor from Lua’s hair.

She got out of bed and hurried to the wolf’s grave. There, she looked at the purple flowers for just a moment and then she pulled them out one by one.

Lua woke up by lunchtime and ran outside to the flowers with a cup of her portion of water for the day. She stopped at the dry raw clumps of soil where the flowers used to be. She knelt and looked for the seeds. Having found none, she still poured all her water out.

The next morning Mauro returned from the forest with a deer. The crowd cheered. “I found where the wolves hide,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll get them.” The cheering died down. People looked at each other and then watched their feet. Lua listened to everything from afar.

That night, she refused to go to bed. Instead, she walked to the wolf’s grave and lay down on the ground. Her mother saw her but returned to bed – Lua couldn’t fly away anymore. Lua closed her eyes as the night fell. The earth was cold beneath her. She spread her arms and fell asleep.

In the morning, Lua was gone. The villagers combed the forest, checked caves and dove in rivers. They couldn’t find her. Some thought that the wolves got her. Others started saying they saw her riding an enormous wolf crossing the mountaintop.

Soon, the rains started. The forest came back to life. The rivers filled up. People resumed their usual life. Only Mauro didn’t. Every day he continued searching for the wolves in the mountains, going further and further away from the village. One day, he didn’t return.

Lua’s mother no longer went to the forest. She spent her days near her house, tending to a large garden she planted around the wolf’s grave. Every night she walked through her garden, looking for a purple flower that would glow again.