bedroom, a small stained-glass image hung in the windowpane: a howling gray wolf, head tipped upward at an indigo night sky. Sunlight reflected through the colored glass mosaic framed in a brass oval. I stared into it often; it felt like a portal to another world. The fairy tale many are taught about the wolf—ghastly, leering, cartoonish—did not match my own perception. I fell asleep to wolf’s close cousin coyote howling outside my window. Wolf did not feel like Other.
