we are the children of the world

[Beppe Agapito]

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Upon first seeing it, Beppe had found the little secluded village enchanting. It was a place that seemed timeless, as if it was in its own world where things stayed the same. Each day was like the next, and though the weather changed little else did. Since he had first found the place, there had been no other visitors. The snow that coated the roads between houses was largely undisturbed, and the only footprints that were there were his own. It was a place of his own, and Beppe valued that. He could wrap himself in a cloak of seclusion and loneliness and let it sink in. He was no longer by the ocean, a source of comfort, but it made the emotions that had been swirling around him stronger and unavoidable. He was miserable, and he loved being miserable. The wolf's self pity was becoming one of the things that defined him, and it seemed that many of the decisions he made had the aim of making it deeper. It was, in its own way, a comfort.

Seeing other, smaller footprints in the virgin snow surprised him, and he followed them. Rarely did he leave his home, save to get some water from the well or collect creatures from the traps he had left out, and on this particular trip he was making his way to another house to salvage the cooking supplies that might be left. Cooking kept him busy when he had nothing else to do, and he was also making his way through the single book that populated the village, which had been boring in the beginning, but was getting more interesting. As part of his nightly ritual, he spent the last hours of the day flipping through the wispy pages almost compulsively, struggling through the English words and the odd phrasing of the ancient scripture.

The footprints led him towards one of the houses, and the midnight black figure on the porch was not easy to miss. As soon as he rounded the backside of the house and she was in his view, Beppe stopped suddenly. How long had this woman been here, and why was she here? Furrowing his brow slightly, the Italian merely peered at the wolf he considered an intruder. This village was his, and he did not know her. Even though he could barely care less if he was rude, politeness seemed to be inherent in him. Still standing and staring rather awkwardly, he said in his heavily accented voice, "Hello."
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