Chapter 9

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All around the blazing fire, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers gather in consecutive circles ringing around the center. Both humans and wolves stand together, in heart and soul as we silently watch the flames rise and fall.

In front of me, a pair of wolf children howl in grief. Ralphie places a gentle hand on both their little heads as he initiates an even louder howl. The others respond with similar howls that echo through the vast snow-covered lands.

This is their way of mourning their pack mates. If you're not howling, then you're silently weeping for the lost. No words are spoken because they're not necessary.

After a few hours, the firewood burns out and the pack slowly diverges. Out of respect to the deceased, the pack should return home straight after they finish mourning, leaving those who wish to mourn longer at peace.

When there are only a handful mourners left, I turn to Ralphie who's been wearing the same emotionless expression since we left the tent.

There's not much comfort I know to offer so I give his hand a squeeze. He pulls me closer to him until his massive body shelters me like a cave.

"Can we stay a little longer?" I hear him ask with a distant look in his eyes.

"As long as you need," I whisper through my trembling lips. Ralphie only hugs me tighter.

While we stand alone in the snow, I can't help but feel guilty. I can't shake the idea that none of this would've happened if I didn't run away. If I didn't run, they wouldn't have sent trackers. If there weren't any trackers, then the two completely innocent beings probably would still be here.

How come the vampires can't learn to live like the Wolves? How come they only know how to cause pain? Why do vampires insist on waging war with this wholly innocent clan of people?

I only notice the streaks of water traveling down my frozen cheeks when Ralphie gently wipes them away.

"Will you run with me?"

My blank expression scores a light laugh that restores a bit of life back into Ralphie. In an instant, he shifts into a large gray wolf and bends down. With a tilt of the head he nudges me to climb on.

I would normally refuse, but I couldn't deny his effort to cheer me up when I should be the one doing it for him. Without further hesitation, I throw one leg over his back and sit straight.

Ralphie rises up slowly and the ground beneath seems so far away. He takes a step forward and then back, making sure I am comfortable.

Then we run.

At first, each tiny gallop feels like a leap. I almost fall off a few times, but I learn that if I clamp my legs tightly by his sides, I get a better grip. Just leaning a little forward and lowering my body can reduce the resistance of the wind to almost nothing. When I clasp my hands onto the fur by his neck, my view of everything balances and becomes crystal clear.

And when I'm comfortably looking forward with my head held high, it gives Ralphie the confidence to run with all the energy coursing through his body.

The feeling isn't like anything I've felt before. This isn't like riding a horse or being carried by Abram.

With Ralphie, it's different. With Ralphie, everything is different.

It's as if my arms and legs are the ones pounding on the snow. Where my eyes look, our bodies bring us. The cold around me is but another passing breeze, too light to even graze the heat radiating from our cores. Even our hearts align, beating with life in the silence of night.

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