I was a child the first time I saw the wolf in the sky. "It's a cloud," said my mother, with some irritation. She thought fancies were not appropriate to the son of a warrior. "But there's it's tail! And the fangs drip with blood!" "It's a cloud," she repeated. She pushed me back into our home and closed the heavy wooden door behind her, bolting it for good measure. Even though I was but four or five at the time, I realized her anger was not directed at me. My mother was afraid of the wolf. The wolf sat, tilting its head to the side. Then it threw back its head and howled … with laughter!