In medieval Italy, there was a small city called Gubbio. It was a beautiful town, with stone houses, ancient walls and a lively market. But Gubbio had a terrible problem. In the hills around it lived a wolf — and it was no ordinary wolf. It was enormous, fierce and dangerous. It attacked the flocks, devoured sheep and goats, killed cows and horses. And, worst of all, the wolf attacked people too.

The people of Gubbio lived in fear. Deep fear. No one dared leave the city alone, no one went to work in the fields, no one took the animals out to pasture. The city gates stayed locked, and people went out only in large groups, armed with spears and swords.

"Did you see the wolf yesterday?" they whispered in the streets.

"Yes. It was near the north gate. Big as a calf, with red eyes."

"Giovanni tried to fetch firewood, and the wolf nearly caught him. He barely escaped."

The terror spread. To them, the wolf was like a demon.

The men of Gubbio tried to kill the wolf. They went out in armed bands, with spears, swords, bows and arrows. But the wolf was too clever, too fast, too fierce. It attacked by surprise, appeared when they least expected it, and then vanished into the hills. Some men came back wounded, and some swore that their arrows simply would not strike, as if the wolf were protected by something evil.

"It is the devil in the shape of a wolf," some said.

"We are cursed," others wept.

The city was in despair. What more could they do?

In those days, Saint Francis of Assisi was traveling through the region. Francis was known throughout Italy: the poor saint who had left his riches behind to live like Jesus, preaching love, peace and care for God's creation. He had a special gift — he loved all creatures. Birds, rabbits, fish, even insects: he called them all brothers and sisters. People said that Francis could talk with animals, and that they understood and obeyed him.

When Francis came near Gubbio, the people ran out to meet him.

"Francis! A terrible wolf is terrorizing us. It kills our animals, it has killed people, and we cannot leave the city anymore."

Francis listened calmly, his gentle eyes full of compassion.

"Where is this wolf?" he asked.

"In the hills. But do not go there, Francis. It will kill you."

"God will protect me," Francis said simply. "I am going to speak with the wolf."

"Speak?" the people gasped. "No one speaks with a monster."

Francis smiled.

"All of God's creatures can understand love. I will go and find him."

The friars traveling with him grew worried and begged him at least to take a weapon. Francis only made the sign of the cross.

"The cross of Christ is my only weapon. Love is my only protection. Let us go."

Francis walked out of the city toward the hills. A few brave townspeople followed him from afar, wanting to see what would happen — but keeping a safe distance. Francis walked alone, slowly, praying. His hands were empty: no weapon, no shield. Just a small man in a simple brown habit.

Suddenly, from among the trees, the wolf appeared. It was huge, bigger than the biggest dogs. Its teeth were long and sharp, its yellow eyes burned with fury, its open mouth showed its fangs. The wolf saw Francis and charged straight at him.

"Run, Francis! Run!" the people shouted from afar.

But Francis did not run. He did not move, and he showed no fear. Instead, he raised his hand and made the sign of the cross in the air, toward the wolf. And then, in a voice firm but gentle, he spoke:

"Come here, Brother Wolf. In the name of Christ, I command you: do no harm to me or to anyone."

Something incredible happened. The wolf stopped. It had been running, ready to attack — and the moment Francis spoke, it stopped in its tracks. It closed its mouth, lowered its ears and, slowly, like a tame dog, walked up to Francis. And it lay down at his feet.

The people watching from afar could hardly believe their eyes. They fell silent, amazed. Francis looked at the wolf with kindness — without fear, without anger, with love.

"Brother Wolf," he began, "you have done great harm in this land. You have destroyed God's creatures and even killed people, who are made in the image of God. For these crimes you deserved to be hunted down like a thief and a murderer. The people hate you and want you dead."

The wolf kept its head low, as if it were ashamed.

"But I want to make peace between you and them," Francis went on. "Brother Wolf, if you promise never to attack anyone again, neither people nor animals, I will see to it that the people of Gubbio feed you every day."

"For I know, Brother Wolf," Francis said tenderly, "that you do all this harm because of hunger. When an animal is starving, it does terrible things. Is that not true?"

The wolf raised its head, looked at Francis, and nodded, as if to say yes.

"Then promise me, Brother Wolf, that you will never harm anyone again. And I promise that you will never go hungry again."

Francis held out his hand.

"Give me your paw, as a sign of your promise."

And the wolf lifted its paw and placed it in Francis's hand. Like an agreement. A handshake. A promise.

The people watching were astonished. Some wept, others laughed with relief.

"It is a miracle! Francis has tamed the wolf."

Francis smiled.

"Not I, but Christ, who lives in me. Now come. Let us take our Brother Wolf into the city."

Francis set off back toward Gubbio, and the wolf walked at his side, gentle as a pet dog. When they arrived, the church bell rang, and the whole town gathered in the main square. The people saw it with their own eyes: the terrible wolf was as calm as a lamb, walking beside Francis.

Francis spoke to the people:

"Listen. Brother Wolf has promised to make peace. He will attack no one anymore, neither people nor animals. But you must promise to feed him every day, for he attacked out of hunger, not out of wickedness. He will be a guardian for the city, and you will treat him with kindness. Do you agree?"

"Yes! We agree," the people answered. "Praise be to God."

Francis turned to the wolf.

"And you, Brother Wolf? Do you promise to keep your word?"

The wolf nodded its head and, once more, placed its paw in Francis's hand, before all the people. A great cheer filled the square, and there were tears of joy on many faces. The pact was made.

From that day on, something wonderful happened in Gubbio. The wolf came to live in the city. It went from door to door, and the people gave it food. It was gentle, never attacked anyone again, never bared its teeth in anger again. Children played near it, women stroked it as it passed, and the men who had once wanted to kill it now greeted it: good morning, Brother Wolf. The wolf became dear to everyone, as if it were the whole city's dog. And the wolf seemed happy. Its hunger was over, and so was its loneliness. It was no longer hated — it was loved.

The wolf lived in Gubbio for two years. Two years of peace and harmony. And then, of old age, it died quietly. When the wolf died, the whole city wept. They held a funeral for it and buried it with respect and affection.

"Brother Wolf taught us so much," the people said. "He showed us that even enemies can become friends."

"And Saint Francis taught us that love is stronger than violence."

The story spread throughout Italy and far beyond, and became one of the most beloved stories about Saint Francis.