A
boy raised by wolves in The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling. Wolves don't wear
clothes, but Disney wouldn't let him be
naked so they gave him those stupid red shorts.
Mowgli thrust his dead branch into the fire till the twigs lit and crackled, and whirled it above his
head among the cowering wolves.
“Thou art the master,” said Bagheera in an undertone. “Save Akela from the
death. He was ever thy friend.”
Akela, the grim old
wolf who had never asked for mercy in his life, gave one piteous look at Mowgli as the
boy stood all naked, his long black hair tossing over his shoulders in the light of the blazing branch that made the shadows
jump and quiver.
“Good!” said Mowgli, staring round slowly. “I see that ye are
dogs. I go from you to my own people--if they be my own people. The jungle is shut to me, and I must forget your talk and your companionship. But I
will be more merciful than ye are. Because I was all but your
brother in blood, I promise that when I am a man among men I will not betray ye to men as ye have betrayed me.” He kicked the fire with his foot, and the sparks flew up. “There shall be no war between any of us in the Pack. But here is a debt to pay before I go.” He strode forward to where Shere Khan sat blinking stupidly at the flames, and caught him by the tuft on his chin. Bagheera followed in case of accidents. “Up,
dog!” Mowgli cried. “Up, when a man speaks, or I
will set that coat ablaze!”
