Raised by Wolves

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

“HOLO, HOLO, WAKE up.”

“Huh?” My brother rolls over but keeps his eyes closed.

“We have to go.”

“Go where?” he mumbles sleepily.

I grab his jacket from the closet and throw it at him. Since he still hasn’t opened his eyes, it lands on his face.

Holo groans and pulls the jacket down. “I’m asleep.”

“No, you’re not. Get up.”

We have to get out of here before we wake anyone. I’m already layered up—long underwear, sweats, a jacket. Spring nights can be cold, and hypothermia is real. I’ve got a backpack stuffed full of food and water, too.

“Ugghhhhh,” my brother moans. “Ughhh.”

“Use your words.”

“I was having a good dream. Bim and Ben were there, and Beast, and Harriet…” His voice trails off.

“Well, you’re awake now, so get up,” I say. I have to be a little mean about it, or else he’ll just ignore me.

Grumbling, with eyes still half-closed, he starts getting himself ready. I peer out the window. The sky’s clear and the moon’s nearly full. The forest’s calling.

When Holo’s finally dressed, we creep downstairs. We tiptoe past Lacey and the chief’s bedroom. I can hear the chief snoring.

The floor creaks and the snores stop.

I freeze. Don’t wake up, don’t wake up.

Holo and I stand still as trees. We barely breathe. The minutes tick by. Finally there’s another snore.

“ Go ,” I whisper.

The front door’s noisy, so Holo opens the living room window instead. I clamber out first and drop to the ground. A moment later, Holo lands in the dirt next to me. We don’t hesitate; we head for the forest. Holo doesn’t ask what we’re doing or where we’re going. That’s because he’s tired.

But also because he knows.

We walk parallel to the stream, stepping carefully but surely. We’re used to traveling in darkness.

Wolves like to hunt at night.

An owl hoots from somewhere to the north. Holo cups his hand around his mouth and calls back. Nothing.

“Nice try,” I say.

“Dumb owl,” Holo growls.

“More like smart owl.”

We head east along a deer path, moving at something between a walk and a jog, for an hour or two. The forest is quiet, but I can sense how alive it is all around us. Eyes I can’t see watching us. Little creatures slinking and burrowing and hunting.

I inhale the scent of leaves and bark and water and dirt. This is where I belong.

We cross where the stream narrows, hopping from rock to rock. I hear a splash behind me.

“Shit,” Holo says.

His right foot slipped and now he’s wet halfway up his leg.

“Good thing it’s not winter.”

“It’s still freezing, though,” he grumbles.

“We don’t have much farther.”

Ahead of us the ground slopes down and—if I’m right—it’ll open into a meadow that we know. We push through underbrush. Blackberry brambles snag my clothes. I’m hurrying now, and I stumble over a fallen branch. My ankle twists as I land. Ow.

I’m limping a little as we come out of the trees into a small clearing. The grass is silver in the moonlight. It’s beautiful.

And it’s empty.

“They’re not here,” Holo whispers.

“No, but they will be.”

And I throw back my head and howl.