Gil told the old wolves to put him down and said, "You all go back."
The old wolves left.
Gil pushed his wheelchair forward alone, struggling with every move.
Then he hit a large rock, and the wheelchair flipped over.
He fell into the snow, blood spreading from his paralyzed legs.
He couldn't stand, so he braced himself with his hands and dragged himself forward inch by inch.
His knees scraped raw, leaving scattered drops of blood in the snow.
The wind blew from the north, cutting like a knife.
He didn't stop.
Finally he reached a tall, pointed‑roof house standing before him.
He heard young wolves laughing and mentioning Linda's name.
He lay on the ground, gazing at the silver‑white gate, his voice so hoarse it was barely audible.
"I know you are in there..."
The wind swept ov
