She moves the crystal along my hip. “Arthritis?” she asks. (So that’s why I walk through the woods more slowly these days.) She passes the crystal along the bottom of my feet. “You are well-grounded,” she says, then holds the crystal above my shut eyes. “Seven wolves travel with you. A red one is out in front.”
I think of my Advanced Placement Literature students, seven, and the red-headed boy, Ruddy, who sits front and center. In June, they’ll all travel ahead of me, while I bed down alone in my classroom, waiting for the next pack of timber to kindle.