The Mother and the Wolf

This is a story from far to the North. From a place where, in the deepest belly of the winter, for weeks the sun does not rise above the horizon. Where winter plunges the Earth into an eerie and endless night. It is a story of courage in the face of darkness.

One cold and stormy winter, a hunter and his wife were running short on food. The continuous harsh storms kept the prey from venturing out of their burrows. They knew they would have to venture from their forest home, brave the cold, and try to make it to the nearest village. Perhaps there they could beg for grain from the farmers. The woman had recently given birth but now she was growing strong enough to travel.

During a lull in the weather, they gathered their supplies, strapped the babe to the mother’s back, piled high their furs upon themselves to keep warm, and ventured out into the endless night.

The strange twilight on the horizon was the only indication it was day. Pushing their way through high, soft snows, the going was slow. As the night faded, they found a clearing. Gathering firewood, they made a blazing fire. The husband left her to tend it and went to hunt while the weather was still good.

Soon the darkness fell completely and the babe began to wail. She tried to nurse, but not much milk would come. The poor child was inconsolable, and the mother became afraid. The wolves would hear.

Howling came suddenly, sending a chill through her heart. Instinctually, the babe fell quiet, listening. But it was too late. They knew.

Again, a howl, now very close. She heard not a single footfall. But she knew she was surrounded. Gathering two blazing branches from the fire, she placed her back to it and swung round to defend herself.

From the night, a great beast with shaggy white fur and icy cold eyes stepped into the circle of firelight. The leader of the pack. She watched soft falling snow catch on the tips of his fur and warm breath swirl like smoke from his snout.

“Woman,” he spoke, with a raspy growl, “the hunt has failed. Already, my pack has been reduced to only the strongest four. The winter is hard, our bellies eat at us, and our den offers us no warmth.”

He stepped forward, and she wildly swung the torch. He stepped back again, taking his time. Her eyes grew wild and big; she was cornered prey.

“Let us make a deal,” he said. “Just give us the child. It is easy enough to make another. You can go free; we swear to leave you and the Hunter in peace.” The other wolves began to howl.

Dread filled her and her already empty stomach seemed to want to swallow her up. Suddenly, a firm resistance sparked within her heart and she sang out with all her heart to the wolf:

The Wolf Song

Jonna Jinton

Verso 1

G C G

Vargen ylar i natten skog

A wolf howls in the forest at night

A# C D

Han vill men kan inte sova

He cannot sleep, though he wants to

Gm C Gm

Hungern river i hans varga buk

Hunger tears apart his wolf-belly

A# C G

O det är kallt i hans stova

And it’s cold in his house

Coro (x2)

Gm D# Gm A#

Du varg du varg, kom inte hit

Oh, wolf, oh, wolf, don’t come here

Cm G

Ungen min får du aldrig

You will never have my child

Verso 2

G C G

Vargen ylar i natten skog

A wolf howls in the forest at night

A# C D

Ylar av hunger o klagar

He howls for the hunger and laments

Gm C Gm

Men jag ska gen en grisa svans

But I will give him the tale of a pig

A# C G

Sånt passar i varga magar

Such things are good for a wolf’s belly

(Coro)

Her haunting, beautiful song rose up through the winter silence and reached the ears of the mother goddess, Frigg. Such courage sparked the interest of the goddess, who rushed from her throne next to Odin to see the scene.

Moved by the intense love the mother had for her child, Frigg intervened, becoming a small wild boar. She leapt from the bushes and through the camp, catching all eyes, and ran into the night. The wolves instantly decided that a tender boar was easier prey than a woman armed with fire. They sped after her, unaware that they chased the goddess. She led them far away for many hours before they gave up the chase exhausted, for you can never catch a goddess.

The mother sank to the floor in relief, crying out to the gods in thanksgiving, for she knew they had saved her. But her relief was short-lived. Soon, rustling steps in the forest perked up her ears. Fear sent a wave of goosebumps through her. Moments later, however, she recognized it was heavily-laden human footfalls she was hearing. Her husband was returning. She lifted her head to see him step into the firelight, laden with a small doe across his shoulders, and beaming with pride. She began to cry with joy, for she knew her babe would live to see the Spring.