Chapter Eight

A burst of light. Jak flinched, reaching back for the darkness. He floated for a minute, two, but cold was pricking at his skin. Hurt. Yes, he was achy, cold…but not as cold as he'd been…before. He smelled earth…dirt and leaves and something he couldn't name. It smelled sort of like urine, and he wondered if he'd wet himself.

His thoughts tumbled, his mind trying to grab a memory. Something wiggled against his foot, and he pulled his knee to his chest, whimpering. He felt another movement near his shoulder, and his eyes flew open. Memories of the man and the cliff and…and…he couldn't remember more than that, but that made him move, clawing his way toward the circle of light above him. He came out of the hole he'd been in, rolling to the frozen ground, a cry of fear and confusion bursting from his cracked lips.

He put his arm over his eyes, waiting for them to stop blinking, and then slowly lowered it. Woods. And snow. Sunshine. The sound of dripping water all around him. At first, he thought it was rain, but no, it was melting snow. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, the sweet taste of fresh water dripping from the bare tree branches above and catching on his tongue. Relief. Relief.

Looking down, he saw that his body was black and blue with bruises and he was only wearing his underwear. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered stripping his wet clothes off. He'd been hot. Burning hot and then…he'd fallen. He looked quickly behind him and saw that the place he'd climbed from was a den. There were moving things around him, on him, whimpering and warm. On a rush of breath, Jak dropped to his knees and peeked back inside to where his almost-naked body had lay through the deep, dark night. There were six wolf pups, four sleeping, two staring up at him. He blinked, and they blinked back.

He saw the outline of where his body had been curled next to the pups. He'd fallen into their den, and they'd kept him warm when he would have frozen to death. "Hi," he croaked, tears springing to his eyes. He was scared, hurting, and still cold. Shaking. He was only in his underpants, his bare feet in the snow, but all of a sudden, he didn't feel so alone, and the feeling made a lump of thankfulness block his throat.

The two pups who were awake were still staring up at him, and when he reached down slowly, carefully, to pet one of them, he shrunk back in fear. Jak saw that their ribs were showing, and his heart squeezed tight.

They were starving. They'd been abandoned by their mother.

Just like me.

But they had no baka to take care of them.

He reached into the den, touching one of the pup's heads softly and petting him as he whispered the words his baka had said to him when he had trouble sleeping. "It's okay. You will be okay. You will survive. You are strong boy."

When he reached his hand over to rub one of the sleeping pups' bellies, he pulled back quickly. The pup was cool under his touch. The other four pups weren't sleeping. They had died. To be sure, Jak touched them one by one, all of them cool though not cold. Not yet. Not like the alley cat he'd found dead by the building behind his baka's apartment before screaming for her to come help it.

She'd come running, but there was no help for that cat. It was gone to cat heaven, she'd said, and it was not coming back. Just like these pups. But these pups were different. They'd saved his life before they'd lost their own.

"Thank you," he choked, touching the heads of each small wolf.

His feet were starting to tingle with cold, and he stood, shaking the snow off and turning toward the woods where sunlight lit the spaces between the tall green trees. He spotted a piece of gray cloth and walked to it, his limbs burning with soreness, especially his arms. But other than that, he seemed to be okay. No broken bones, he didn't think. He stepped on the rocks and bare spots of grass where some snow had melted until he came to the piece of cloth.

His sweatshirt. And it was in the grass in a circle of sunlight, so it was only a little wet. Shivering, he grabbed his jeans and his coat, which were both close by, his coat hung over a rock like it'd been set there to dry. He put the coat on quickly, sighing at the warmth that hugged him. His jeans were a little wet too, but he put those on anyway and stuffed the bottom of his pullover sweatshirt in his pocket. He'd find a spot of sunlight to set that and his pants on until they were all dry. He had to hunt a few minutes longer for his boots, but he finally found those too, both wet, but he'd have to wear them for now.

Jak had gone to bed in his blue PJs. He wondered who had dressed him in warm clothes. Who had known he'd be out in the cold and snow?

He stood in a patch of light for a few minutes, his face raised to the sun as it warmed his skin. He pictured the pups, two of them still alive in their den as they waited for their mother, who must have died.

He stood unmoving. He didn't know anything about wolves, but he'd read a book about dogs once, though he couldn't tell anyone that. His baka had made him promise he would never ever talk about the reading or the books or the numbers or any of that. It had to be a secret, she'd said. He must never tell anyone or very bad things would happen.

He couldn't leave the two living wolf pups alone out there. His baka would send someone for him soon. Would she even know where to start looking for him? He didn't know how he had gotten there to that unknown place. He didn't know who the bad man was who told him it might be the night he died. The man, who was the reason those other boys went over the edge of the cliff. Yes, the ice had broken, had made the snow slide, but they wouldn't have been there except for the man. But he didn't want to think about that now because it made him want to cry and he knew this wasn't the time to cry. He had to be brave. For himself and now for those two little wolves who were all alone, except for him.

He went back to the den and picked up the two pups, checking to make double sure the other ones were dead. They were even colder now, and their bodies felt sort of stiff. He knew they had gone to wolf heaven.

He picked up the two live wolves, their ribs sharp on his hands, and he carried them out of the woods and into the bright light of an open field. "It's okay. You are strong boys," he whispered to them both, even though he had no idea if they were boys or girls. When he sat down on a rock in the sunshine to warm them, he realized that one of the pups had died like his brothers and sisters, and he let out a shaky breath, holding back a sob and placing the wolf's body down on the grass next to where they sat.

Everyone was dying. The boy with the twisted body had been dead. The one he'd pushed up onto the ledge was probably dead, just like the blond boy, who must be buried under snow. Dead. Now five wolf pups had died, and the last one would probably die soon too, his body getting cold and stiff. And then Jak would die.

The skinny little wolf looked up at him, his eyes tired and sad like he could hear Jak's thoughts. "I think it's hopeless," he whispered to the wolf.

The wolf stared up at him, his small pink tongue darting out to lick Jak's hand. He was hungry, just like Jak. They both needed to eat, the pup more than Jak, he could tell. But how do I keep you alive? What do I feed you?

Jak bent down and scooped up some water from a puddle on the ground where some snow had melted. He held it up to the wolf's mouth, and the wolf stuck his tongue out, lapping at the water like he hadn't had a thing to drink forever, his eyes not leaving Jak's face.

"That's better, right?" Jak asked. He kept on feeding the wolf water until he seemed to have had enough.

They both sat there for a long time, Jak's clothes drying, his soreness getting better, and the wolf's fur growing warm under the pale-yellow winter sun. There was a spiderweb stretched between two dead plants sticking out of the snow. It sparkled, moving slowly in the cold breeze. It reminded him of his baka's lace. His chest hurt.

He petted the tiny wolf. "I'm going to call you Pup," Jak whispered, afraid each time he reached over to touch him that he would find him cold as well. Stiff. Gone to heaven, a place someone never came back from even if they wanted to.

And then Jak would be alone again. Lost and alone.

Suddenly in the distance, a helicopter moved across the sky. Jak sucked in a breath, jumping to his feet and waving his arms in the air. "Here!" he called. "I'm here!" He jumped up and down, yelling, running back and forth, until his voice was gone and his muscles were screaming with hurt again. The helicopter circled and circled but was too far away to see him. After what seemed like hours, it turned and disappeared out of sight.

Jak picked up a rock and threw it at the empty sky, crying out, his voice nothing more than a broken croak of sound. He returned to the rock where he'd been sitting when he spotted the helicopter and sat on it. Pup looked up at him sleepily and then lowered his head once more, closing his eyes. Were the helicopters looking for Jak? Had his baka sent them to find him in the middle of this wilderness? They'd be back then. They had to come back.

The sky turned orange and then a swirly purple, and then the sun hid behind a mountain. Jak was so tired. His hunger grew and grew, and he didn't know what to do. The night got colder, and Jak started to shiver. He realized he needed to find a place for Pup and him to sleep where they could keep each other warm.

And if no one found him by morning, if the helicopters didn't come back, he'd have to try to find something for them to eat. Pup let out a tiny whimper sound and curled into Jak's thigh like he agreed with the thought.

"I won't let you down, Pup," Jak said, and it felt good. But it felt bad that he had no idea how to start or what to do. Jak put his hands in his pockets, lowering his head against the cold, almost-night air and startling when he touched something solid and smooth in his pocket.

The thing the dark-haired boy had passed to him before they'd fallen.

He pulled it from his pocket and looked at it. It was shiny, and he ran his thumb over it.

A pocketknife.

Jak's heart jumped. Live! he'd told the other boy, and maybe…maybe this had been that other boy's way of telling Jak to do the same.