It only made things worse.
I took in a great, gasping breath.
I was awake.
They were gone.
Mom. Thomas.
Carter and Kelly.
Gordo.
And Joe.
I opened my eyes.
Two wolves lay curled up against me.
Elizabeth and Mark.
They breathed deeply, lost in sleep.
I envied them.
Because the pain came rolling over me, glassy and sharp.
I pushed outward, trying to find the others. Trying to feel them. The bonds. The threads
between us.
But there was nothing.
I pushed again.
Nothing. It was like we were cut off.
The loss was so great that, for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I tried to fist my hands at my sides, but my left hand wouldn’t close around the object it held.
I looked down.
In my hand was a wolf statue. Made of stone.
I watched it for a long time.
I knew what it meant. Who’d placed it there.
Eventually I nodded.
I said, “Okay, Joe. Okay.”
And began to wait.
the first year/pinpricks of light
THE FIRST year was the hardest.
Because we didn’t know there was going to be a first year.