SandScript 2023 [Digital Exclusive]

stare; a hidden strength buried below the gleam of those eyes. The boy almost drowned in the
depths of those shimmering pools.
The wolf did not move. It barely seemed to breathe. Not a single sound could be heard. Not a
single branch stirred. Not a chittering insect or chirping bird. Just the boy and the wolf, facing
each other in the glimmering light of a setting sun filtering through the treetops. For a moment,
the entire forest stilled, waiting with bated breath to see what would happen next. Then the
wolf cocked its head, sizing up the boy with one last curious glance, and slowly turned away.
With a lazy shake of its wintry mane, it padded off into the nearby thicket.
After a long moment, the boy finally exhaled, letting the brisk air course through his lungs once
more. He found himself straightening. Goosebumps rippling across his arms, he felt a strange
weightlessness begin to fill him. For a moment, he glanced at where the wolf had been,
marveling at the vision that had graced his path. An encounter that no one would believe. He
remembered the wolf. It’s power. It’s unbridled strength.
In that moment, something stirred within the boy’s soul. Suddenly, he found himself turning.
With careful, deliberate steps he began to walk back the way that he had come. He squared
his shoulders, set his jaw, and stood tall as he made his way back to the clearing where he had
left the taunting boys.
The forest thinned and the trees seemed to part before him; soldiers retreating at his
command. He could hear the laughter of the boys, cackling like crows flooding a carcass. He
could almost make out their jeering faces through the slowly parting branches. He clenched
his fists. Filled with a strange sense of peace, he breathed long and deep, ready for what might
lie ahead. He did not rush. He would not run.
As he reached the forest’s edge, he caught sight of the same robin that he had seen before,
now perched on the branch of a nearby tree. The crimson feathers of its breast gleamed like
painted armor in the golden light of the setting sun. With a sudden spring, the bird took to the
air once more, whistling like a shot through the freedom of the open sky. The boy followed the
bird’s path toward the horizon, turning to face the pack of boys waiting for him in the clearing
ahead. Their insults descended upon him once more, sneering faces closing in around him,
like circling vultures ready to pounce. In that moment, the boy planted himself like a tree, roots
digging deep into the ground. He remembered the eyes of the wolf, gleaming against the
snow. He recalled how it stood like a sentinel of silence, tall and proud amid the winter woods.
It was strange, but in that instant, he no longer felt alone.
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