“Wolf-child was dragged back to the local settlement. He was like any wild creature suddenly captive: bewildered, afraid, furious. He lashed out at anyone who came near. They confined him in a cellar with a bolt on the door. In time, as he grew hungry, tired and dispirited, the boy became quieter, but he growled a warning each time someone came to leave him food. He could not drink from the cup they provided, spilling the water as he tried to lap at it. The cooked meat was alien to him but he devoured it, crouched down over the platter, not using his hands.

“You might ask, why did his wolf mother not defend him out there in the forest? Why did she run, leaving her child to be taken? But to her he was not a child. It was a long time since this strange cub had first come her way. Her tolerance of his closeness had worn thin as she grew older and more weary. She sensed that her time as first female in the pack was drawing to an end. She would have defended a brood of small cubs to the death, but this one must fend for himself.

“For a while Wolf-child was a wonder to be peered at through a chink in the cellar door, a marvel to be entertained by. But the novelty wore thin soon enough. One or two of the villagers tried to talk to the boy, to gesture in a way he might understand, but he responded only with growls or whining, and they soon lost interest in such an unrewarding creature. As for Wolf-child, he was cold, lonely and confused. They had given him clothing to wear, a rough shirt and trousers, and after a little he did keep them on, feeling their warmth. But in the confines of the cellar he could not clean himself as he would in the forest. The stink of the place became so rank that nobody wanted to come near it.

“The villagers saw that they had made a mistake in thinking there might be a place for the boy among them. He was a human being, sure enough. But he didn’t know it, and it was beyond them to teach him. Not wanting simply to let him go, for that seemed no more right than keeping him locked up, they asked the local druid for help.

“Now druids, as we all know, see deeper than the surfaces of things. That’s one of their strengths, and another is the ability to be still and quiet; the gift of great patience. They can sit in one spot all day and never get bored. If a man’s head is crammed full of lore he’s never short of the means to entertain himself. The druid asked the villagers to lend him a cottage with a well-fenced patch of land, and he took Wolf-child there with him and shut the gate after them.