Post by account_disabled on Dec 12, 2023 4:55:28 GMT
It was 3pm when I stopped to catch my breath. Or 4pm? Not beyond that, though. The footprints had disappeared hours ago. We were skirting the woods, as if we needed more space. The snow crunched beneath us, crystalline, shiny in the last sun of the day. Behind me snow-capped and silent peaks. A postcard to send, all that was missing was the words "Many greetings from...". Below, the valley. Forest, clearings, rocks. And something that moved. I was about to call my friends, I stopped in time. Stupidity nipped in the bud. I counted them, six shapes in movement, one behind the other like toy soldiers in single file. Dogs? Mancini was needed, if he wasn't sent like a rocket.
Perhaps Braschi, further back, could have gone and called him, if I had managed to attract his attention. I made a snowball and threw it towards him. Shot too short and Braschi even further ahead. I threw a second one. He saw her. She turned, the unexpressed question in her eyes. Too tired to insult me. I motioned for him to be quiet and he understood. I pointed to Phone Number DataMancini, he understood again. He moved quickly but silently, a human wolf in the snow. We watched them disappear into the woods below us. Six wolves, the pack we hoped to find. Mancini took some photos with his reflex camera, poor Braschi with his cell phone. I enjoyed the show through the lens of my eyes. We got up and camped nearby.
That evening we slept strangely relaxed. Day 3 Back on the road shortly after 7. I fell asleep late, fantasizing about the pack of wolves and the close-up photos we would take. An exhibition in the heart of Rome, a photography book, perhaps. The usual online album, more likely. Forgotten after two days. The weather maintained its stability, withdrew the grayness of the clouds and restored the blue to the view. We returned to the spot of the sighting the day before. Braschi took out his binoculars. “I can still see the footprints.” We decided to follow them from above, it was not possible to go down to the bottom of the valley. Go along the forest, trees on the left, wolves on the right. As long as it was easy. Then other plans of attack.
Perhaps Braschi, further back, could have gone and called him, if I had managed to attract his attention. I made a snowball and threw it towards him. Shot too short and Braschi even further ahead. I threw a second one. He saw her. She turned, the unexpressed question in her eyes. Too tired to insult me. I motioned for him to be quiet and he understood. I pointed to Phone Number DataMancini, he understood again. He moved quickly but silently, a human wolf in the snow. We watched them disappear into the woods below us. Six wolves, the pack we hoped to find. Mancini took some photos with his reflex camera, poor Braschi with his cell phone. I enjoyed the show through the lens of my eyes. We got up and camped nearby.
That evening we slept strangely relaxed. Day 3 Back on the road shortly after 7. I fell asleep late, fantasizing about the pack of wolves and the close-up photos we would take. An exhibition in the heart of Rome, a photography book, perhaps. The usual online album, more likely. Forgotten after two days. The weather maintained its stability, withdrew the grayness of the clouds and restored the blue to the view. We returned to the spot of the sighting the day before. Braschi took out his binoculars. “I can still see the footprints.” We decided to follow them from above, it was not possible to go down to the bottom of the valley. Go along the forest, trees on the left, wolves on the right. As long as it was easy. Then other plans of attack.