And somewhere behind the panic of not being able to see and breathe, I remember the wolves.
Wolves.
The world tilts sideways. The ground moves under me. Or maybe that’s just me shaking.
My heart slams so hard I can hear it in my ears.
I am alone.
I am helpless.
I am prey.
My lungs unlock, and suddenly I can inhale. A sound tears from my throat, thin and panicked, but I can’t stop it, can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t…
Then…
A soft sound. Footfalls.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
This is it. I’m going to be some wolf’s dinner. I still. Or at least I try to because right now I feel like I’m vibrating like a bobblehead doll. In the stillness, I hear a faint whimper. It’s close. Oh my god, it’s way too close. Close enough that I feel it vibrate against my hip.
Something warm touches my side. Warm and solid and enormous. Heat rolls off it in waves. I’m trying not to think about how this wolf is going to maul me. Is it going to finish me off or leave me maimed?
I flinch as fur makes contact with my skin. Then the body curls around me. No excruciating pain comes. No teeth crunching into bone. A big, warm, breathing body wraps around mine. Softer than any dog I’ve ever touched. Heavier than any dog I’ve ever been near.
He presses into me, slow, careful, like he’s trying to take some of my weight, like he’s telling me I’m not alone.
Warm breath huffs against my cheek.
Okay, a wolf is not going to wrap around me like a giant teddy bear, is it? Relieved breath stutters out of my mouth. This must be a guide dog. But damn, how big are the guide dogs they have here? Is this a Newfoundland?
My shaking slows just enough for air to finally drag back into my lungs in a small, broken gasp. Then the tears come. Maybe they’re tears of relief or residual terror. I can’t tell anymore. A tongue sweeps across my cheek. Firm and warm and steady.
Not licking for play. Licking to calm me. The next breath I take is deeper. Shaky, yes, but real. My fingers reach without thinking, burying into that fur. I hold onto it as if that massive, living warmth is the only thing keeping me tethered to the world. And maybe it is.
“Okay,” I whisper, voice trembling. “Okay… okay… you’re helping me. You’re not a wolf. You’re not going to kill me. You’re not going to maul me. Thank you.”
He shifts beside me, nudging my shoulder, urging me to move.
And for the first time since I fell, I do. First, I sit up. My head spins and nausea rolls through my entire body. He whines again, and I lean against him. I’m going to give myself one minute, then I need to get up.
He stays pressed against me, a mountain of heat and quiet strength. Every time my breath wobbles, he answers with a soft huff as if to reassure me. My hands stay buried in his fur, my body leaning into his like he’s the only solid thing left in the world. And maybe he is.
He shifts again, guiding me—no, not exactly guiding, more inviting. Is this dog trying to motivate me? His body braces under my side, strong enough to carry my weight but gentle as a whisper. I slowly stand up. My ribs scream with every movement, and I suck in a breath. He’s patient. He waits. Hebreathes with me. His fur is warm under my fingers. He’s my lifeline. He’s my anchor. And why do I assume the dog’s a he?
He nudges me as if to encourage me some more. I slowly stand, resting some of my weight on him. He moves slowly. The gravel under my feet turns to softer, more slippery footing that could be wet leaves, then grass.
I still don’t let go. Not even when voices break through the trees. But he does. Suddenly, his fur slips from my fingers and the warmth is gone. I reach for him. “Hey, buddy, don’t go. You’re a hero. You should get a giant steak as a reward.” But he’s gone. I’m left alone and feeling… orphaned.Good God, Violet. You really are a drama queen.
“Violet! Violet. Oh my gosh, I found her. Here! Over here!”
Branches snap. Footsteps pound the earth. Radios crackle. Someone shouts my name again, breathless with panic.
Someone drops to their knees beside me. “Oh my god, Violet, are you okay? I’m so sorry. I couldn’t hold on. Honey came tearing back alone. Jesus, your face, it’s all scratched up, and your arms?—”
Jenna’s hands descend on me. Then there are more. Too many hands, probing gently, but my body flinches anyway. My heart slams against my ribs, my breath catching again.
