Pappy got that
faraway look in his eyes again. His gray irises glazed over and he stared
unseeingly in front of him. The fingers that he’d been rubbing together paused
and I leaned my head against his shoulder, my own eyes upward to watch his
face. His breath was a soft whistle in his throat, smooth wrinkled skin right
up against my cheek. “There’s a fight going on inside of me,” he finally
whispered. I touched his hands as if to console him but he did not move.

“Who’s fightin’,
Pappy?” I said.

“The wolves are
always fighting, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya.”
Pappy rested his knuckles against my leg and nodded. “Two legend’ry beasts, old
as time. One is cruelty, manifested from the darkest parts of the mind. It
lives on hopelessness and feeds on despair. Hatred makes it cackle and the weak
crumble in its path.” I shrank against Pappy and closed my eyes.

“What about the
other one?” I dared to ask.

Pappy cleared
his throat with a cough which turned into a dry wheeze. His hands shook against
my legs and I wondered for a moment if I should ask if he was okay. “The other is
goodness. It shines against the darkness and reaches out to any and all hope it
can find. Dreams ride on its back and serenity radiates around it. The two are
complete opposites, both struggling within me, and within you. Only one can
win,” he said.

Fighting beasts
inside me? My lip quivered and I grabbed Pappy’s hand. “Which one will win,
Pappy?” I asked, terrified of the cruel wolf.

Pappy stayed
silent for a long time.

I waited,
squeezing his hand in mind.

He pulled me
from his lap and set me on the ground. Although it took him some effort to
stand from his rocking chair, he never let go of my hand. Pappy turned me
around to face him and brushed the hair out of my eyes. His voice was filled
with im[injection]portance as he spoke and I closed my eyes as his words rained down in my
ears.

“The one you
feed.”