Raised by Wolves

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

A BEDROOM IS much better than a jail cell, but it’s nothing like the woods. My bed is too freaking soft and I’m alone. The cheerful yellow walls feel like they’re closing in on me. The air is hot and still.

Last night was the first time I’d ever gone to sleep without Holo right next to me. I tossed and turned for hours, but I fell asleep eventually. Tonight, sleep isn’t coming. I lie awake listening to the chief and Lacey talking in the kitchen. Every once in a while I hear our names. There’s confusion and worry in their voices. Who are we? Where did we come from?

Look, I can barely answer those questions myself. But I’m used to that. What I want to know is this: am I crazy not to take Holo and run? Right now . It was me who wanted to come into this world. But Holo’s the one who’s really starting to like it. Earlier tonight he tucked himself between Lacey and the chief on the couch, and they all watched some dumb cop show together on the TV. It’s like he already belongs here.

I’m not sure that I’ll ever belong anywhere.

“Lacey?” my brother calls in a half whisper. “Lacey?”

I hear Lacey coming down the hallway and opening the door to Holo’s room.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” she says.

No one’s ever called Holo sweetheart before.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

Her laugh’s low and sweet like her voice. “Let me tuck you in,” she says.

“Okay,” he says.

It hurts that Holo calls for Lacey instead of me.

Does your sister take care of you, Holo? Ms. Pettibon had asked. And Holo hadn’t said yes.

But I taught him how to read the sky. I showed him how to look to the clouds for weather and the stars for directions. I taught him how to trap rainwater. I taught him which mushrooms are delicious and which are deadly. I taught him how to hunt and kill.

Isn’t that taking care of someone?

“Are you glad to be here, Holo?” Lacey asks my brother.

“Yes,” he says.

I’ve spent my life protecting Holo. From hunger. From wild animals. From loneliness. But how am I supposed to protect him from getting used to this comfortable, human life?

We’re here now, but we can’t stay forever.

I’m afraid he’s going to forget that.

“I love you, Miss Lacey,” he says.

He loves her? Already?

I turn my face to the wall. I don’t believe in crying. So I just close my eyes and will myself to sleep.

Later I wake suddenly, all senses alert. Moonlight streams through my window. I wait—breath held, ears pricked. Then one lonely, haunted cry pierces the night. A moment later, it’s joined by another. Then another.

Soon a howling chorus fills the air. The sound is so familiar to me, and it sends a chill up my spine.

It sounds like heartache. It sounds like home.