I’d gone off the beaten path. The dirt packed trail, beaten down by decades of hikers, was nowhere to be seen. I was lost in the wilderness of Appalachia. I was a seasoned hiker, but all the same my family had warned me not to go out alone. That one of these days, I would become lost in those hills. And I suppose they were right. They’d never let me live it down if I managed to find my way back to civilization.

I’d been hiking for hours now, a tree in the distance had caught my eye, as nature usually does. Usually, I’m fairly good at finding my way back, but the dense fog which had settled over the mountains this afternoon had made it difficult to right my sense of direction. Everything had looked same-y when I turned around. As to not let the fear building in my chest get the better of me, I simply shrugged it off and started in a direction.

Keep going straight—no matter what you do keep going straight. I had heard it on a documentary once and figured I’d give it a shot. Something about keeping in one direction that one might find a road at some point. Even if that some point was miles and miles away from the path.

I crested a small hill as the fog began to dissipate when I saw it. I didn’t know whether to scream or run or hide. But there, just at the top of the hill I saw them. Their fur was white as snow. Three of them huddled close together, not paying much attention to the human that had entered their space. I crept behind I tree and observed them. Three white wolves. A small pack—perhaps more were somewhere nearby. I couldn’t help but marvel at their beauty. The way their fur rustled in the early October wind. The leaves that swirled around them as they sniffed about the trees as if looking for something.

I crept closer, sidling the side of a tree when my foot met with a misplaced branch causing an audible _snap_ to echo against the trees. The wolves turned to look where the noise came from. The largest one, the one in the front met my gaze first. It sniffed the air but did not move. It just looked at me as I looked at it. I felt my heart freeze in my chest. Felt my breath grow slow. This was that feeling. That fight or flight I had learned in AP Psychology. I had a moment to choose. But for some reason I couldn’t figure out how my legs worked. How did I move again?

Maybe it was out of fear, or maybe…maybe I was too enamored by them. By the sheen of their coats. By their wide grey eyes. Their breath misting the air. The three of them stood in a triangle formation, simply looking at me. From my own dumb luck, or perhaps from the wolves boredom, they turned away and started down the other side of the crest. I let out a relieved sigh, waiting a moment for them to get distance between us, before I followed after them.

When I crested the hill for myself, I didn’t see them again. But I saw the road that led back up the mountain. Where I had made camp with my family wouldn’t be but a mile or two up this road. I smiled to myself, knowing I’d had a guide to help me find my way.