a rock like it’d been set there to dry. He put the coat on quickly, sighing at the warmth that hugged him. His jeans were a little wet, too, but he put those on anyway and stuffed the bottom of his pullover sweatshirt in his pocket. He’d find a spot of sunlight to set that and his pants on until they were all dry. He had to hunt a few minutes longer for his boots, but he finally found those, too, both wet, but he’d have to wear them for now.
Jak had gone to bed in his blue PJs. He wondered who had dressed him in warm clothes. Who had known he’d be out in the cold and snow?
He stood in a patch of light for a few minutes, his face raised to the sun as it warmed his skin. He pictured the pups, two of them still alive in their den as they waited for their mother, who must have died.
He stood unmoving. He didn’t know anything about wolves, but he’d read a book about dogs once, though he couldn’t tell anyone that. His baka had made him promise he would never ever talk about the reading or the books, or the numbers, or any of that. It had to be a secret, she’d said. He must never tell anyone or very bad things would happen.
He couldn’t leave the two living wolf cubs alone out there. His baka would send someone for him soon. Would she even know where to start looking for him? He didn’t know how he had gotten there to that unknown place. He didn’t know who the bad man was who told him it might be the night he died. The man, who was the reason those other boys went over the edge of the cliff. Yes, the ice had broken, had made the snow slide, but they wouldn’t have been there except for the man. But he didn’t want to think about that now because it made him want to cry, and he knew this wasn’t the time to cry. He had to be brave. For himself, and now for those two little wolves who were all alone, except for him.
He went back to the den and picked up the two wolves, checking to make double sure the other ones were dead. They were even colder now, and their bodies felt sort of stiff. He knew they had gone to wolf heaven.
He picked up the two live wolves, their ribs sharp on his hands, and he carried them out of the woods and into the bright light of an open field. “It’s okay. You are strong boys,” he whispered to them both, even though he had no idea if they were boys or girls. When he sat down on a rock in the sunshine to warm them, he realized that one of the cubs had died like his brothers and sisters and he let out a shaky breath, holding back a sob and placing the wolf’s body down on the grass next to where they sat.
Everyone was dying. The boy with the twisted body had been dead. The one he’d pushed up onto the ledge was probably dead, just like the blond boy, who must be buried under snow. Dead. Now five wolf cubs had died and the last one would probably die soon too, his body getting cold and stiff. And then Jak would die.
The skinny little wolf looked up at him, his eyes tired and sad like he could hear Jak’s thoughts. “I think it’s hopeless,” he whispered to the wolf.
The wolf stared up at him, his small pink tongue darting out to lick Jak’s hand. He was hungry, just like Jak. They both needed to eat, the wolf more than Jak, he could tell. But how do I keep you alive? What do I feed you?
Jak bent down and scooped up some water from a puddle on the ground where some snow had melted. He held it up to the wolf’s mouth and the wolf stuck his tongue out, lapping at the water like he hadn’t had a thing to drink forever, his eyes not leaving Jak’s face.
“That’s better, right?” Jak asked. He kept on feeding the wolf water until he seemed to have enough.
They both sat there for a long time, Jak’s clothes drying, his soreness getting better, and the wolf’s fur growing warm under the pale yellow winter sun. There was a spiderweb stretched between two dead plants sticking