“You’re not—”
“Real,” he said. “No, I’m not. But for now, let’s pretend I am. Let’s pretend we’re together. We’re happy. It’s you and me and Joe. We’re running together. The wind is in our hair, and the ground is solid beneath our feet. We howl at the moon and the stars because they’re ours, and nothing can ever come between us. Nothing will ever keep us apart.”
My eyes felt heavy, and as I drifted away, listening to my little brother telling me stories of my greatest wish, I wondered if it was ever going to be real again.
KELLY WAS GONE when I opened my eyes.
The sky outside was dark.
I sat up in the bed, unsure what had awoken me. The fire was low, the embers glowing. Snow fell outside the window, the flakes fat and white.
The door creaked as if something pressed against it.
The cabin was cold as I stood from the bed.
I looked at the door.
It creaked again, and it took me a moment to realize what it was.
Scratching.
Something was weakly scratching against the door.
I went to it. I put my hand on the latch, took a breath, and then opened it.
A timber wolf lay in front of it, sides heaving. He lifted his head, tongue lolling out of his mouth. His eyes flashed violet, but the color was dull. He let out a whine and lay his head back down.
I crouched next to him, holding my hand out above him, fingers shaking. When he didn’t snap at me, I pressed my hand against him, looking for a wound. His fur was cold and wet, but he didn’t seem to be injured.
“What happened?” I asked him.
His tail thumped once.
“Can you get up? Get inside?”
He closed his eyes. I felt his muscles tense as he tried to stand, but he only made it partway up before he collapsed again.
“Shit,” I muttered. “I swear to god, if you try and bite me, I’m gonna leave you out here. You get me?”
He grumbled.
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t care. Don’t bite me.”
I slid my hands underneath him. His heart was slow and sluggish against his ribs. I grunted as I lifted him. He was much heavier than I expected. Either that or I was weaker than I thought. It was awkward trying to get him through the door, and he yelped when his head banged against the wall, tail twitching against my side. “I feel real bad about that. Stop moving or I’ll do it again.”
Somehow we made it inside. I laid him on the floor in front of the fireplace as carefully as I could. He sighed as he closed his eyes. I went to the fire and threw more woo
d on, stoking the embers until the logs caught. It’d take a while to get the room warm again, but I was wide-awake now.
I went to the lantern on the table, found the switch on the side, and flipped it up. The light was bright, and I squinted against it as I lifted the lantern. I set it down on the floor next to him. “I’m going to touch you again,” I told him. “Don’t get any ideas.”
One eye opened, staring at me balefully.
“Don’t give me that look. Just… let me do this.”
He didn’t argue as I ran my hands over him again. His paws kicked slightly as my fingers pressed against his stomach, and I was struck, then, by how it used to be. In Green Creek, my shadow trailed after me no matter where I went. Some days he would sleep on the floor next to my bed. Others he’d be on the bed, and I’d have to fight for a little corner, my legs curled up against my chest, uncomfortable but not doing much to make him move. It took me longer than I cared to admit to realize he was doing it on purpose. I finally caught him when I tried to stretch my legs and my feet pressed against his stomach. I’d curled my toes and was shocked when he snorted, almost like he was laughing.
How bright and fierce this memory was, something so tiny in the face of everything. I’d forgotten that he was ticklish on his stomach.