That cold came again—a wave of it washing through Tean.
For a moment, there wasn’t even thought.
And then there was one: Where’s Jem?
But Jem wasn’t coming.Jem couldn’t come, or wouldn’t come in time.There was only Tean, and he had to dosomething.
The children still hadn’t seen what had happened, so he turned Maeve and Milo and forced them away from the wolf.Away from River’s body.Maeve started to cry.Milo locked his legs and screamed, “No!No!No!No!No!”
“We’re almost there,” Tean said.Tears stung the corners of his eyes, hot and then frozen.He scooped Milo up.The boy was kicking now.His other hand on Maeve, he half-steered, half-forced the girl forward.“We’re so close.You’re both doing so well!”
Milo’s scream had gone beyond words and into shrill, full-lunged panic.
Run.Run.All they could do was run.
There were three wolves.Two inside.One out.And they had worked like a pack, chasing them out of the room.
That was what predators did.That was what wolves did.They chased their prey.They ran it to ground.They harried and snipped, and they separated the weak from the strong—
Think, Tean shouted at himself.You have to think!
But all he could think about was prey animals.Herd animals.They ran.That was their defense.They ran, and they ran, and they ran.And the ones who couldn’t run, the ones who were too old or too sick or too young—
Maeve pitched forward into the snow again.This time, she started sobbing uncontrollably.When Tean tried to pick her up one-handed—because he still had Milo over one shoulder—she twisted away from him, digging herself deeper into the snow, her panic blooming into hysteria.
The wind picked up, spinning snow into the air, slicing at Tean’s cheek.
The wolf trudged after them.And he was howling.
Tean knew that howl.He remembered that howl.Even though the wolf was nothing but shadow and fur, he remembered that howl, and he knew this was the one he’d faced in a darkened basement not too long ago.
Prey ran.
Prey ran until they couldn’t.
The clarity was like moonlight tipped into his cupped hands.Milo’s kicks and struggles, Maeve’s screams, the crisp-crack-crunch of the wolf’s steps as he broke the frozen surface of the snow and came after them—it all faded.
Tean put Milo down.He grabbed Maeve and dragged her to her feet.
“You have to run now,” he told them.Something in his voice must have reached them because Milo grew still, and Maeve quieted.“Run to the lodge and go inside and find an adult.Do you understand?Maeve, you’re in charge.Do you understand?”
She gave a tiny nod.Tears had frozen on her cheeks.
“Run.Run for the path and get inside.”
Maeve grabbed Milo’s hand, and they ran.The snow hit them at the knees, but they ran.
And Tean turned to face the wolf.
40
For a moment, as Tean turned, it wasn’t dark anymore.It was an October morning, the sky powder blue and only starting to lighten, the shadows that had weighed everything down in the pre-dawn hours beginning to lift.It was the first time he’d understood the phrasethe darkness lifted.Like it was one of his dad’s drop cloths, and you could pick it up.
His grandfather picked up the rifle.
And then he was back in the frozen dark, wading through the snow, his course taking him away from Maeve and Milo.The wolf was farther up the hill, his gaze moving between Tean and the children.
Over here.Tean kicked and trudged his way through a drift that hit him above the knees.Over here, you dumb fuck.Look over here, because I’m looking at you.
