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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 110 | volume  | October-November, 2016



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 110October-November, 2016
Prose

THE WOLFGOAT

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p. 1
Zoran Pilić

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THE WOLFGOAT

Translated by Tomislav Kuzmanović
      
    Nature is my natural enemy. Ever since I’ve known of myself, that’s the way it’s been and that’s the way it’s going to be. I don’t know how to say it differently or more eloquently without getting away from the truth so I won’t even try. Nature or wilderness, which is by far and long a more precise term for the inaccessible and truly wild spaces, makes a man ridiculous and helpless. Not every man, of course, but people like myself have no business going there without the company of experienced guides armed to their teeth. Chances of a pallid-complexioned, thin-skinned creature prone to every disease known to man, as I have always been, surviving on his own in the wilderness for longer than half a day are at the very start brought down to a minimum. In ninety-five percent of the cases something would kill me: a black widow, an alligator, a lesser spotted eagle, a bear, insects of this kind or that, leeches, snakes, lightning and thunder or, if nothing else, I would trip over, cut my forehead open on a sharp rock and die on the spot.
    In lower grades of the elementary school, and that’s the last thing I’ll add, they enrolled me in boy scouts. As I was of puny physique and eternally pale in the face, my parents probably thought that spending some time in nature and in the company of others would not hurt. Not more than a few meetings later they took us camping. And even though I was very young, I felt that something might go wrong. We set up our tents, raised our boy scout flag on the pole, made our campfire in the evening, and the next day – a competition. The last and key discipline brought the most points and it consisted in passing several control spots on a terrain that for the most part, naturally, spread over some thick woods. At one moment, I have to admit, I too was overcome with a touch of enthusiasm and competitive spirit. That boy scout zeal could be felt on every step and I was not left immune to that, to be fair, completely irrational excitement. I didn’t know exactly what we were doing, but I followed others who fanatically hopped around completing all of the tasks that needed to be completed.






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