Chapter Seventeen

Jak hadn't eaten in three days. His belly ached, gnawed at itself, hunger making him feel weak, sleepy. But he couldn't sleep, not if he wanted to live. Live! Pup had gone out over and over during the long hours, but even he, a natural hunter, hadn't had any luck. The weather was miserable outside, the animals hidden away in their dens, covered by snow or blocked by ice. Many of them would die there before the winter was over. He wondered if he'd die too.

Jak's heart seemed to slow, like it was getting ready to stop. Thump, thump . Maybe it would. And who would care? No one. No one would even know.

He had had enough food to last him through four days of the storm that was still blowing, but no more.

Jak had tried to catch a fish but couldn't break through the thick ice even after hammering at it with a sharp rock for hours. He'd waited by the water, hoping a deer would come out for a drink, but the cold grew so painful Pup had started whining, a low sound of hurting that Jak understood even better than his fur-covered friend. He'd had no choice but to go back inside, starving and empty-handed.

"We've gotta try again, Pup," he said, and the animal raised his head, looking at Jak for a minute and then lowering his head again as if to say, No way .

"We have to," Jak argued. "The longer we stay in here, the weaker we'll get." Sometimes Jak wondered if it was a meanness to keep Pup inside with him, wondered if his wolf instincts would get…less if he didn't always have to use them. Pup was supposed to have a pack, a family of wolves that could help each other survive. Instead, Pup only had Jak, but Jak still needed him to help catch food, and mostly… mostly, he needed his friendship. Pup was his only friend in the whole world, and he knew he wouldn't want to live through the war for this long without him. Jak might want to give up, but because of Pup, he never would. Pup had saved his life that awful, terrifying night and many times since then, and now Jak would keep Pup safe and fed or die trying.

Jak put on his warmest clothes, animal skins he'd stitched together and a few items he'd traded with Driscoll for. He would have suffered through the walk to Driscoll's place if he had something to trade for food, but not only did he not have anything he could give up, but Driscoll had told him that was one item he could not get. There wasn't a lot of food in town, and even Driscoll had trouble getting enough to feed himself. Jak wondered if the war went on for many more winters and food grew less and less, if townspeople would start coming to hunt animals and gather the other food the forest could give.

Even now, when he thought of the war and the people Driscoll had told him were killing the children, that deep voice repeated in his head: Survival is your only goal.

A small tremble that had nothing to do with the storm raced through Jak as he stepped outside, squinting away from the stinging cold that burned his skin.

He gripped the pocketknife in his fur-wrapped hands, ready and willing to kill any small animal or bird he saw. The forest was still, though—quiet—even the winter birds too cold to sing.

Jak stopped at the top of a small hill, Pup a few steps behind, and saw what looked like a deer lying in the middle of an open area.

Jak's eyes widened, and for a minute, he simply stared. Had the animal frozen to death right where it was? But no…he could see its blood soaking into the snow. He moved toward it. Had another animal killed it and then left it there uneaten? Why would it when food was so hard to get?

Jak's stomach panged with hunger, and he sped up his steps. He didn't care why the animal was lying there. He only cared that it was and that it would take away the splitting pains screaming through his stomach.

"Get away from my food," he heard, and he lowered to a crouch, whirling toward the voice, raising his pocketknife toward the threat. Pup let out a low growl, crouching down as well to attack. It was another boy like him, his blond hair past his shoulders, in a fighting stand, his left arm held out and something shiny in his hand. For a minute, Jak was shocked quiet, and then his heart started booming in his chest, pounding in his head. They stared at each other, the other boy's eyes shiny and…crazy, his face twisted into hatred. Violence. He came at Jak, his left leg dragging behind him. There was something wrong with it.

Jak raised his hands quickly, trying to let the boy know he was not a threat. His stomach cramped in pain again. "Did you kill this deer?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"Get away," the boy barked, moving forward, swiping what Jak could now see was a hunting knife at him.

Jak jumped back, missing the blade. Pup snarled, moving forward. "Pup, no," he said loudly, not knowing whether Pup would listen. He needed to do something. And fast. "Whoa. Wait, wait. Listen to me. We can share it. We're both hungry, and there's enough for two. More than enough." He thought about offering his cabin, the blanket, somewhere to dry off and get warm, but he didn't know who this boy was—he might be on the enemy's side—and he wasn't sure it was safe to offer him anything at all. He looked crazy, and Jak wasn't sure his words were being heard.

But either way, he was not going to let him take all the meat on the ground between them. He could die if he did that. Pup could die too.

"We'll split it," Jak said again, louder, trying to make eye contact. But the boy's eyes stayed on the meat, a look so hurting in his gaze that Jak felt it all the way to his own aching belly. "I'll help you skin it and carve up the meat. Doing all that is long, hard work. I'll do most of it," he offered. "We can join together." He searched for the right words, words to make the boy hear him, agree, but the boy looked uncaring about what he was saying. "What's your name?" he asked, trying from a different side. "I'm Jak, I—"

The boy moved forward again very quickly, swiping the knife, and Jak leaned back, the blade just missing him. Pup jumped forward, and the boy let out a growl of his own, swinging the blade through the air, back, forth, back, forth. One of his swings caught Pup on the leg, and Pup squealed in pain, blood spurting onto the white ground as he limped back, still growling but not moving toward the still-swinging boy again.

"Stay back, Pup!" Jak yelled, holding his own pocketknife toward the boy, trying one more time to talk him out of what he was doing. "I know you're hungry. I'm hungry too. I'm not trying to take your meat. I just want to split it. We can both eat. We can work together—"

The boy let out a screaming war cry and threw himself at Jak, and red-hot pain sliced down Jak's cheek. Jak cried out, jumping back again and bringing his hand to his stinging face. His fur-glove-covered hand came away matted and dark with blood. Anger and fear mixed inside Jak as he gave up the idea of talking instead of fighting. This boy had left him no choice but to defend his own life. The next swipe might be across his throat. The boy in front of him was fighting to kill.

The two of them circled each other, their breaths coming out in small white clouds of air. They were close enough now that any knife swipe could be deadly. Something hot spiked through Jak, his heart like thunder in his ears. Maybe if I can knock the knife away from him, I can—

The other boy attacked, his body hitting Jak with a loud oof, and they both went down to the ground, the crunching sound of the snow top breaking below them. They each yelled and then they were rolling, grunting, as Pup growled and yapped in the background, far away, or so it seemed to Jak. He could only hear his own pounding heart and the sharp gasps of breath as the two fought to hold on, fought to be the first to use his weapon.

They rolled again and Pup's growly bark got closer, the smell of him strong in Jak's nose. "Stay back!" he yelled at Pup, rolling again, juggling with his knife, trying with everything he had to rip the other boy's knife away from him. But his short call to Pup had given the boy the upper hand, and he went back and swung down, catching Jak on the arm with his blade before Jak could roll away.

Jak yelped from burning pain and terror, throwing his body forward and stabbing his knife into the boy. Directly into his heart.

Everything stopped. The boy froze in his movement, his eyes widening and then dropping. Blood fell from the side of his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto the ripped-up, too-small coat he wore.

Jak grabbed the boy. What did I do? He can't die. Not with a single stab. No! The boy's eyes met his, the crazy fog in them clearing away. Their gazes locked together, breath mixing, though the boy's breaths were getting weaker, farther from each other. Jak's heart sputtered when—for a lightning flash—the other boy looked…happy. He smiled before his body sagged, and both of them fell to the snow.

Jak sobbed, scooting out from under the dead boy, the boy's body dropping to the ground. Jak pulled himself to his feet, shaky, standing over the body, shock making the world seem too bright, unreal. A dream. A nightmare. He'd killed a person. He felt something warm on his cheeks and realized he was crying. He brushed at the wetness before the tears mixed with blood could freeze.

He stared at the boy, his eyes moving over his ripped clothes, down to his twisted leg, and blackened foot, bare now that the handmade shoe had come off during their battle. Jak closed his eyes for a second, his heart squeezing.

I would have shared with you, he whispered brokenly inside himself.

Jak stared at the boy's face, which no longer looked crazy, death making him look younger. And with a jolt, he recognized him. He was the blond boy who had gone over the cliff with him that night. He'd been living out here all this time too.

And whatever he'd gone through, it had driven him out of his mind.

No! Had he passed him in the woods once or twice, hiding from the sound of footsteps because he'd thought they might belong to an enemy? The thought was too terrible for Jak to think about.

Instead, he turned toward Pup, who was now lying in the snow, a large spot of blood next to his hurt leg. His heart, which had slowed, began racing again. Jak had to get him home and treat his injury if he could. Jak picked up the boy's sharp, curved knife, put it in the waistband of his pants, and then went fast to Pup, picking the large animal up and hefting him over his shoulder.

Jak walked back to the dead boy, wiping the tears that were again sliding down his cheeks, trying to come up with words to say over the boy's body. His baka had said prayers, but he didn't remember any of the words she'd whispered as she'd held the beads in her hands.

Pup moaned softly, and Jak moved him a little, trying to be careful of his injury. "Star light, star bright," Jak finally said, the words coming quickly, knowing the rhyme wasn't a prayer but having nothing else to offer. "First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." And then he closed his eyes and wished that the boy was now running through fields of flowers under the warm heavenly sunshine. That he was healed, whole, and no longer hungry.

The ground was too frozen for Jak to bury him, so he left the boy's body where it was. The boy didn't need it anymore anyway, and the forest did. Other hungry creatures would feed on it and live to see another day.

Like Jak.

Although he could feel that a part of him had died along with the boy left lying dead in the snow.

With Pup over one shoulder, he grabbed the leg of the deer, pulling it along behind them, beginning the journey back home. Anger and hopelessness roared through him. Anger built as he walked through the cold. He raised his face and yelled into the stone-colored sky, tears blinding him again. It was all their fault! The men who took him and the other boy. The men who tried to kill children. The men who turned a little boy into a crazed animal, wishing he was dead.

The men who made me a murderer.