"The Den Mother"
She found me amidst the rubbage in the back alley. She looked upon me as I lay on my back. The hangover had not yet set in, as I was still drunk from the previous night. She stared down at me. It wasn't anger or hatred in her eyes, but a kind of stern compassion with a lingering hint of disappointment. But beneath it all, I saw hope.
"Marvelous way to keep warm," she greeted with a nod.
I looked down at my pants to see I had pissed myself.
"Unfortunately such brief gratification ends up leaving us cold," she continued. "Big day ahead of you?"
I grumbled and cussed as I stammered to my feet. She wasn't more than five feet tall. But her presence left me in her shadow. "What is it you want then?" The question rumbled from my gut as I burped up last nights whiskey. "Come to jest a drunkard?" Her expression remained stoic.
"You're far too young to know the life of a drunkard. You're full of pride...stubborn. Life isn't as hard as you're making it, but I'm sure you're having fun trying. Come, I will get you something to eat."
"I'm alone, you crone. A wolf. Leave me be." Her expression softened, a curl forming at the corner of her mouth as she let out a slight chuckle.
"A wolf you say? That's good, for I am known as the Den Mother. Come Wolf. No dog ever turned down a free meal and a warm place to sleep."