I was pitching my tent when I first saw her – and believe me when I say it was her, and not it. She must have caught the light of my fire from over the ridge. I froze, hoping foolishly that I did not catch her eye. She, too, stayed motionless, scanning the area for several agonizing moments before finally turning tail and disappearing, hopefully back to whatever beastly lair she called home. 
	
	She was enormous, larger than any wolf I had ever seen, with fur like driven snow and stormy clouds. Perhaps it was some mixture of forced perspective and an overactive imagination, but she seemed to be at least the size of a small horse, though obviously squatter and stouter in stature.
	My camp was clearly no longer safe. I considered packing my things and leaving at first light, but some strange, curious part of me demanded that I stay. 

	During the second day, I left my camp with my rifle in tow, and brought down a large buck. I managed to heave the entire carcass back to my camp, quite a feat considering the distance involved. I dressed the carcass there, and after setting aside some meat for myself, I dragged the rest of the beast up onto the ridge where I saw the white wolf the night previous. As I had hoped, she returned. 

	She approached cautiously, sniffing my footprints. She looked at the camp again and caught me staring back into her bright, amber eyes. She growled, and I turned my gaze for fear of somehow offending her. When I gathered the strength to look back she was already bloodied from feeding, her pristine coat marred with gore from my gift. 
	
	I took a bold step closer. She noticed, but returned immediately to her kill. Of course, I thought, why would she trouble herself over me? She was huge, taller than a man on four legs and more than twice as long. I watched her intently, scribbling furiously in my notebook. Sketching, writing, watching, praying she wouldn't think of me as dessert. 

	A week passed. Each day I managed to bring down a woodland creature large enough to satisfy her and a pittance left for myself. On the seventh day, however, I awoke and thought myself still dreaming. The white wolf had returned the favour, somehow entering my camp while I was asleep and dragging the bloody carcass of a young elk into my tent and next to my bedroll! How she did this with any manner of stealth I'll never know, but there it was, plain as day. I looked up to the ridge and there she was, as predicted. I wondered how long she had been watching me sleep. I also wondered whether this was the first time she had entered my campsite uninvited. 

	By the eighth day I felt we had reached an understanding, or at least some sort of mutual agreement. I bagged another deer – a smaller one, to my dismay – and slung it over my shoulder. This time I remained on the ridge with the carcass, wanting to meet my benefactor personally. It took several hours, but eventually her radiant silhouette broke the line of trees. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity until she approached. I took several steps back, putting the dead deer between us. To my surprise, she reached the animal and stopped, digging in with her teeth and claws, ignoring me entirely. I took a cautious step forward, my hand outstretched, my body crouched low. She snapped, and I recoiled. She was motionless for a moment, but I swore I could almost see the beast grin. I returned th gesture. She had me. 

	Confident in her superior position she approached, sniffing my body, drinking in my scent, my intention. It was hard not to fluster at all the attention she gave my trousers, but she was a dog after all, and that was where my scent would have been strongest. Without warning, she turned behind me and grabbed the back of my jacket as if she were carrying one of her own pups and dragged me, practically kicking and screaming, back to her den. 

	I remained her "guest" for nearly a week. To my surprise, she proved to be the most gracious of hosts – she provided food and shelter, she groomed me with her tongue, protected me as if I were her own kin. At night, she surrounded me with her body, and I found myself exploring, touching, caressing every inch of her. I shall never again speak of what transpired on those dark stormy nights – only that I shall return again next season.