The wolf came and sat by her fire every night. It was huge, and so black she only see it by its eyes and the absence of stars. It never spoke, but there was something intelligent and otherworldly in its gaze.
Sometimes, it would present her with a kill, and she’d roast it over the fire. Sometimes it would sit and loll it’s huge tongue, and she would share her water.
Over time, she came to think of it almost as a friend. She had found precious little other company out in the wasteland.
But it never led her home.