I sat on the cot, my knees pulled up to my chest, wrapped in the scratchy wool blanket. The fire was dying down, casting long, skeletal shadows against the log walls. Beside me, Guilermo was prowling.
He couldn't sit still. The cabin was too small for him. It was too small for a man of his size, let alone a wolf with his energy. He paced the three feet between the cot and the door, checking the bolt, checking the window, checking the ceiling beams.
"You're making me dizzy," I muttered, resting my chin on my knees.
"The wind is shifting," he said, ignoring my complaint. He pressed his hand against the rough timber of the wall. "If it hits the north face, that oak tree might slide."
"And if it slides?"
"We get crushed."
He turned to look at me. The firelight caught the silver streaks i
