His mother named him Wolf. Why?--no one knew. His mother died, in childbirth, shortly after she muttered his first name to the nurse. A sad and lonely boy, Wolf grew up in foster care amongst many other children who were motherless and fatherless. In the great state of Montana, he only knew the other boys and girls who shared his humble abode and the man and woman who were in charge of them.

Many children came and many children left but Wolf remained. An outcast even in the presence of other outcasts, the little boy kept himself to himself. He had no friends; he had no enemies, he had no one. Still, he grew up and soon had to leave the only home he had ever known. Shy, from growing up amid the loneliness of foster care, the young man he became hardly knew how to approach other people. Grasping tightly to the list of perspective businesses that might hire a young man in his condition, it was difficult for him to even open a door, let alone step inside and inquire after a job.

Tall and lean, with clear blue eyes and black hair that was already showing gray at the temples, somehow after close examination, he did resemble his namesake, the Wolf. It is true, when people passed him in the streets, they would take a second glance in his direction and remark on his appearance. Yet, just like he would never approach anyone, no one would approach him.