*River*
I study the tiny lights glittering in the black sky, guided by the light of the quarter moon and the stars. I gauge my location in comparison to my destination, feeling a sense of worry that wouldn't exist if it weren't for the she-wolf. I've always known I'm living on borrowed time, aware that the price for my actions that night long ago would catch up with me sooner or later.
It feels like I've been paying the price for five years already. To avoid capture, I keep myself isolated. No she-wolf warms my bed, and no she-wolf smiles when she sees me. But now, I have the delicate scent of a she-wolf swirling around me. Her fragrance reminds me of my mother's flower garden in late spring. Am I holding her close for her protection or for my own salvation?
Her silence is almost as tor
