Three Wolves

Once, long ago, there lived a mother wolf and her cub. Once a month, when the moon was full and great in the sky, they would go to the Place of Three Hills to howl. The mother wolf would sit upon the first hill, and howl at the moon. And on the next hill, the cub would throw his head back, and howl at the stars. On the third hill, the Great North Wind would take the shape of a wolf, and howl a howl that could part the clouds.

The young cub loved those nights, when their three voices sang together. His mother’s howl was high, and light, and round like the full moon. His father, the North Wind, would howl the howl of ice and sky. And the cub’s song was as pure and powerful as the stars in the sky.

The years went by, and the mother wolf grew old and died. The cub had grown into a great wolf by then, but still went back to sit upon his hill to howl at the stars. The Great North Wind still came to howl with him, but his mother’s hill stood empty and silent. They missed her, and their song would never be the same again.

One day, the wolf returned to the Place of Three Hills to howl with his father, only to find three brother pigs living at the top of his mother’s hill. That place should have stood empty and silent until the moon stopped spinning!

That night, he howled to frighten them away. Instead, they built houses upon the hills.

One house of straw, one of sticks, and one of stone. The three pigs refused to be moved. And with a house upon his hill, the Great North Wind would not come.

The wolf was alone. And his howl became one of loneliness.