Cry Wolf

Epilogue

The pirogue slices through the bayou, as silent as a blade. The sun melts down in the west, as rich and warm as molten gold. All around, the swamp is dim and hushed. Waiting, peaceful. The frogs sing among the lilies. An egret glides down to join its mate in their nest of sticks on the trunk of a fallen cypress.

I look down at the woman in the boat. She smiles as if I own the moon. The courage of a tiger. The gentleness of a dove. My wife. I was nothing without her.

I pole the boat forward, toward home, and know contentment for the first time in my life.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The Lotus-Eaters