Raised by Wolves

Chapter 90

CHAPTER 90

THEY’RE NOT HERE.

Chester realizes it with a sickening twist in his stomach. A film of gray dust covers everything. There’s a nest of field mice in the corner of a pillow. His lip curls at the sight of those pink, blind, wriggling babies.

On the seat of a handmade chair he finds a folded slip of paper. To Chief Greene , it says.

Chester opens it and reads, blinking away tears.

I wish I didn’t have to write this. I wish your last visit to Brookside wasn’t the last time I’d ever see you and Lacey.

When you live alone in the woods, there’s no one to meet—but there’s no one to say goodbye to, either. I don’t know what’s better. What’s easier.

I learned a lot, living in your world. Though sometimes I think that what I learned most is how much I don’t know and don’t understand.

Like: why is a cow’s life worth more than a wolf’s?

What is it about land that makes you all want to put a fence around it?

Why is a phone more interesting than a bird?

Why did people treat us so badly?

I guess I’ll wonder about those kinds of things for a while.

But here’s what I know. I know there’s no such thing as a bad wolf, but you sure as hell can’t say that about your fellow man. Doesn’t that bum you out a little?

It’s true that nature doesn’t care about me, but she doesn’t care about anyone . She just is . And we do our best to live by her rules.

I’ll miss Lacey’s beautiful voice and your fake-grumpy smile. I’ll miss watching TV with you in the living room, even though all your shows were terrible. I’ll miss the little yellow room under the eaves that took in a girl from the woods.

You and Lacey would make great parents. I know, because I overheard it, that she wanted to keep us. But you understand that we could never be yours. We—me, Holo, and Wendy—belong only to ourselves.

We’ll always be lost children.

We’re going far away, but sometimes, in the middle of a moonlit night, you might just hear us howl.

Love,

Kai

P.S. I never once called you anything but “the chief.” I’m sorry, Chester.

P.P.S. We’ll miss you. Always.

Chester folds up the note and sticks it into his pocket. He roughly wipes at his eyes.

“You okay?” Dunham asks.

“Does it look like it?” Chester says gruffly.

Dunham claps him on the shoulder. Says, “I’m sorry, brother. But you know, if you need to track them down, I might know a guy who doesn’t forget and who doesn’t give up.” He points his thumbs toward his own chest.

Chester smiles grimly. “To get the FBI involved would mean accusing Wendy Marsden of kidnapping.”

“It would,” Dunham says. “I guess it just depends on how much you want them back. Or maybe you think they’re better off out there, wherever they are.”

Chester takes a final glance around the cabin. Dusty as it is, it’s cozy. Welcoming. It feels like a home.

“I think this would’ve been a nice place to grow up,” Chester says.

And that settles it. They start walking the long way back to town.