She had lived with the wolves till she was three, they said: to her,
time was measured only by the period she was with the wolves
and what came after.
To them the wolves were unfathomable beasts
because they paid homage to the moon with their song
and tore at flesh with their precise teeth.
But to her it was them – the men who stared
at the flowering teenage girls with the hunt in their eyes,
their cold lengths of metal – it was they who were the beasts.
So she narrowed her eyes when they spoke to her
and once, when the odiferous one touched her throat,
she turned and made a hole in his cheek with her precise teeth.
And she was glad that because she had lived with the wolves,
because she spoke few words and because of her precise teeth,
the men never stared at her like that.