I’m panting heavily now, not even aware of the branches slapping my face or the snow melting into my shoes.  Behind me, I can hear the creature breathing heavily, and gaining.  As I reach a clearing between the trees, I’m horrified to realize that I’ve reached my limit.  I don’t know if I can keep running.
	The school seems only a few meters away when suddenly, I find myself flat on my back in a snowdrift, all of the wind I was saving for running knocked out of me.  Automatically, I look around for the guilty rock or twig. Then I remember I have more pressing problems on my hands.
	I’m sure no one can hear my scream from this far into the woods as the wolf closes in on me.  Without feeling, without emotion, my life is ended.


~*~

	I wake up underneath a cold blanket of snow.  It must have snowed a lot.  I sit there with my eyes closed for a moment, wondering what could be happening outside my little world of snow.  I am suddenly aware that my heart is beating fast and out of tune.  Wait-I’d died, hadn’t I?  So how does that explain my heart that should be gone?  Maybe I’m not dead, I think.  I take a mental checkup.  Legs?  They seem fine.  Arms?  Don’t feel any different.  I shift a little in the snow to get more comfortable, when a massive pain in my side interrupts my consciousness.
	I groan.  This was definitely going to leave a mark.  I curse the wolf inwardly.  Just thinking about him makes me shiver, and suddenly I am on the alert for any telltale signs of animals approaching.  I don’t hear any, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there behind the snow that I am hidden under.
	CRACK.  The sound of a branch being broken freezes my thoughts.  I listen hard, terrified.
	The animal gets closer and closer, and of course I immediately think of a huge wolf about to eat me.
	Suddenly, a hand shows up and brushes the snow away from my face.  And it’s not just any hand.  It’s-
	“Oh my God, Jamie, is that you?!?” my best friend Theresa cries.  “You look horrible!!  What happened!?  I’ll call the police!”
	“It’s great to see you too,” I mumble painfully while Theresa pulls out her mom’s cell, which she always borrows in case of emergencies.
	“Yes, my friend is dying and she got attacked or something and she won’t say what happened and-YES IT’S AN EMERGENCY!!” Theresa babbles on about our location.  She is always known for a blabber, and I for one enjoy that I don’t have to talk often.
      Last year, when I was nine, Theresa was talking about a skiing trip that her family took.  Her voice went on and on, so long that I couldn’t drown it out like I usually did.  To me, it sounded so hectic with all her seven siblings that I went and locked myself in the art supplies closet, away from any other kids, for the rest of the day.  I don’t remember how I got there or how I locked myself in from the inside, but for some reason, when I’m stressed I like to go in closets.  I have no idea how that started up.
      While I sit shivering in the bank of snow, my mom comes through the trees, and gasps when she sees me.
      She bends down to me and wraps blanket after blanket around me.  She says, “Oh, honey…It’s such a good thing that Theresa walked through the woods today!” She turns to Theresa and says, “Thank you so much, but I think you are going to be seriously late for school.  Do you need a ride?”
	Her words seem to strike a chord in me, and I realize the cause.  I wouldn’t have survived if she hadn’t found me.  School would’ve started, and Mom would not have checked to see if I had gone through the woods safely, since I usually do.  I would have frozen in half an hour or so more.  The thought sends a chill through my bones.
      While waiting for an ambulance, I look down at myself for the first time since the attack, and I almost throw up.  There is a lot of blood, and I’m not good with blood.
	By the time the police show, I actually have puked, and I’m feeling queasy enough to upchuck again on the ride to the hospital.  Gross.  Being around sick, even though it’s mine, is not going to help my stomach.
	The next few hours are in a rush of color and people, all worrying about me or being ushered in and out by doctors.  Finally, I am left to my thoughts after a nurse walks out saying, “Yes, I know you want details sir, but this patient is under strict isolation…”
	I shiver, even though my bed is piled high with blankets and sheets.  Strict isolation? I think.  What could that mean?  I’m not sure I want to know.
	Since I have time alone, my brain wanders to how in the world I survived in the first place.  Why didn’t Wolf finish me off?  Why was I under strict isolation?  What did all of this mean?  And the biggest question: what really happened in those woods?

~*~

	“Come on, honey, time to get out of the car,” Mom tries to pull me out gently but I don’t budge.  “Please come out, Jamie.” she pleads.
	“No.” I state my denial with all the strength I can muster, but my voice is raspy and weak from sitting up all night, thinking about how lucky I was to be alive and how I vowed never to come outside into danger again.  That promise to myself was exactly why I was never getting out of that car.
	The only reason I even got out of the hospital was because Mom offered ice cream.  And cookies.  I was always partial to cookies.  Oh yeah, and the hospital people forced me out in a wheelchair.  I didn’t really have a choice about that.
	“Jamie.  This is irrational!  You can’t stay in that car forever, you know.”
	I admit she does have a point.  Where would I go to the bathroom, for example?  Reluctantly, I get out of the car.
	“See, honey?  This isn’t so b-“
	Before she can finish, I hobble quickly across our front yard and into the front door, slamming it behind me.  I heave a deep sigh of relief.  I was getting way too close to the woods behind our house for comfort.
	I’m already halfway up the stairs when I hear Mom close the front door softly after her.
	“Want anything to eat, sweetie?” she asks.
	“No, Mom.”
	“Not even a glass of water?”
	“No…”
	I realized a long time ago not to always rely on my mom.  Mom works as a lawyer, and she is always at court or dealing with cases.  My dad is never home either, on account of he’s in jail for committing an assault or something.  I don’t ever speak to him or talk about him anymore.  I don’t even care where he is.  Not even a little bit.  As in nada, zip, zero.  Never ever will I speak to him again.  Ever.  But now, when she’s trying to help me…it’s just too hard to accept.
	I plop myself down on my bed and look around my room.  The walls are chipped, but you can still see them to be painted dark blue, with clouds and stars adorned in all the right places to represent the night sky.  Three years ago, before Dad was in prison, I got my room painted.  Mom and Dad were a little skeptical about what I wanted.  They said that my choice wasn’t really appropriate for a little girl.  I finally got them to cave in, though, when I said that I would study the sky for a while.  I never did, but I still love my room.  Well, I used to, but not now, after the mad wolf.  The walls make me think about laying outside, in the dark, and under snow, waiting for death.

~*~

	“No, I won’t, I won’t, I WON’T!” I yell at Mom, frustrated at her lack of understanding.	
	“I’m sorry, Jamie, but I can’t drive you to school or I’ll be late for work!” She’s already picking up her coat from the closet and heading out into the garage while she calls, “Good-bye, see you after school!”
	I sigh.  Now there’s no other choice but to walk to school.  I usually cut through the woods, but now that Wolf made his move in there…I don’t think I can handle it.
	You can do this, I tell myself firmly.  I take a deep breath, and step outside.  Cautiously, I look around.  No one.  I’m not sure if this is a good thing or bad.
	After a full ten seconds, I decide that walking out into the woods won’t bring about nasty predators.  I see nothing except snow-covered trees and stiff grass for the next three and a half minutes.  Believe me, I counted.  Then, I know something is watching me.
	Frozen.  That’s all I can feel.  I stiffly turn in a tight circle, looking for the source of my discomfort.  Without warning, there he is underneath a sycamore tree.  I jump back from the Wolf, thinking he’s going to attack.  But no, he just sits there, watching me.  Then I realize he’s bleeding.
	The blood seeping from his leg is all over the snow, red against white, a beautiful but creepy painting.  The hunter’s trap, propped up against a tree, is keeping him from moving.  He is no perfect wolf, not at all, but there is an urge to help him.  I try to deny it.  Who says he won’t bite me again?  He could have rabies.  His huge brown eyes are begging, pleading me to set him free.
	I can’t do it.  He had hurt me before, now I have to hurt him.  Without looking back into his eyes for fear he will change my mind, I turn and run away.  He does not try to follow me or make a sound.  I can feel his eyes boring into my back as my lungs burst into flames from my efforts to get as far away from the Wolf as possible.  When I burst into the schoolyard, all I can think is: What have I done?

~*~

	During the entire school day, I cannot let go of the notion that I have done something wrong.  What if he had attacked me on instinct?  What if he had been starving the day I so unwittingly strayed across his path?  I told myself that that was a lot of what ifs.  There was every possibility that it was the other way around.  He could’ve done it on purpose, to try and kill me.  Or something like that.
	“Jamie!  Pay attention,” Miss Ira, the math teacher, snaps.
	“Huh?” I say most intelligently.
	“Please answer the question,”
	“Could…could you repeat it, please?” There are titters throughout the room as I blush.
	Miss Ira sighs.  “Class, what is the solution to 4x+3=15?”
	The whole room chants, “Three!”
	Embarrassed, I slump in my seat.  I scold myself for not paying attention.  The stupid Wolf Incident is distracting me, and I don’t like it.
	I race home, this time skirting around the woods so I won’t come face to face with Wolf again.  At home, there is a surprise waiting for me.
	There is a police cruiser outside my house.  Shocked, I burst in the front door and ask the first person I see about it.
	“What happened!?”
	Then I realize it’s my dad.  I step back, appalled.  Then I remember that Mom told me that he was coming back sometime this week…oh yeah.
	“Hello, Jamie,” he says awkwardly.  “It’s…nice to see you.”
	“Um…nice to see you too,” I reply, edging away.  I spin around and run into a police officer.
	“Jamie, I’m Sergeant Louie.  Can we talk for a minute?” He leads Dad and I to our couch, where my mother is sitting, openly staring at me.  I stare back, worried.  Louie sits across from us.
	“Jamie, I have already told your parents this, and that’s why they’re both here.  Your dad is out from jail, and he will be living with you shortly.” Sergeant Louie pauses, wiping his sweaty hands on his sweaty uniform.  “We all agreed that you should know about it.” He looks to Mom for confirmation.  She nods, though slightly numbly.
	“Jamie…I’m in charge of your case.  I talked to the hospital yesterday, and it turned out you had cancer the night the wolf bit you.  That’s why you were under strict isolation.  None of your doctors even knew until now.  The wolf…apparently sensed it in you, and that’s why he attacked you.  He apparently ate your cancer, Jamie.  We don’t know if he’s going to live very long, because…the kind of cancer you had can spread if ingested.”
	Sergeant Louie himself looks surprised at this latest news.  He stops to let it sink in, and that’s when I remember: I had left the wolf to die.  The wolf that saved me.  I had owed him for saving me, and I left him.
	I jump up and run out the living room, not even pausing when Mom calls, “Jamie, come back!”
	I run and run, straight to the wood path where I walk to school.  I can’t feel, I can’t wait for anyone.  I hear Louie, Mom and Dad gaining, so I run even faster.  The place where I last saw the wolf comes into view, and I stop abruptly at the trap to catch my breath.  It’s empty.  No wolf.  Not even his blood is there, since the sun has melted the snow away.
	“Jamie!  I understand your pain with your cancer and all, but you mustn’t run off like that!” Mom scolds.
	I throw my aching body into Mom’s arms as I start bawling, aware of Dad’s hurt look on his face.  I feel a little guilty for not giving him any thought, but then I remember that he left us and he deserves to feel left out.
	“N-no, Mom, I left the wolf right here!” I sniffle.  Mom strokes my hair consolingly.
	The troupe starts to trudge home, with me coming in pace next to Mom, wiping tears from my eyes.  I’ll see him tomorrow, I think.  He’ll be there waiting when I walk to the bus.  Then I notice the blood.  It starts a few yards away, and that was why I hadn’t seen it when I first looked at the trap.  It stops and starts in puddles, leading away from the trap.
	“Jamie?” Mom looks back at me when I stop abruptly.  Silently, I point to the wolf’s blood scattering the ground.
	Mom gasps and grabs Sergeant Louie’s shoulder tightly.  We are on our way back into the woods, following the trail.
	I am in the middle of the train, Dad at my back and Sergeant Louie in front.  So it’s hard to know what Sergeant is holding us back from until I see it with my own eyes.
	He lies there, on the ground, his leg torn up, not bleeding any longer.  He won’t have to go through the pain of it anymore.  Numb with shock, I kneel down next to the Wolf and stroke the soft fur covering his face.  How could the universe do this to me?  We had only known each other for a short time and now…he was gone. 
	Mom is saying words, pointless words that matter to no one.  Sergeant Louie is trying to calm her down, giving her reassuring pats on the back, like that’s going to help.
	Dad tries to scoop me up, and I lean away from his touch, careful to stay near my wolf.   I silently cry, mourning for the loss of him.
	“Shhh, Jamie, it’s alright.  It’s gonna be okay.” Dad finally gives in to my wants and leans down instead of picking me up.  He strokes the hair that’s needed his love for so long, and I feel comforted now that Dad is back from jail forever.  I snuggle into his shoulder, closing myself off from the unfair world that had killed Wolf.
	People come, converging from vet trucks and various onlookers who are walking through the woods, wondering what is going on.
	“Sorry, girly, you’d best move over,” says a big man with a blanket.  He looks down at me with a pudgy face, and I realize he wants to move the wolf’s body.  He looks like an animal control person.  I have no intention of moving over so he can move Wolf somewhere where he won’t be peaceful.
	“Sir?  Is this your daughter?” the big man asks.
	“Come on,” Dad hoists my resisting body up, and we start the trek home.  I go limp in his arms, finally defeated.  Hazily, I’m aware of other people, but they are of no importance.  The only thing I can think about is the Wolf, his image running continually through my mind.
      Nothing will ever be the same.
~*~
TWO MONTHS LATER
~*~

	Moving among the headstones, I see that the six wolf pups have come to join me on the trip to their father’s grave.  They are a pitiful sight, tumbling playfully over one another in their haste to follow me.
	Their mother, a tawny wolf with deep yellow eyes, watches from trees in the distance.  She looks over her young for any trouble that might arise.  By the time we reach the wolf’s grave, I cannot see her anymore because the trees have blocked all fading sunlight from where she was.
	“Hello, Wolf,” I say softly as I sit down beside his grave.  The pups gather around me, and they have a likeness so like their father, especially Luke, that I can almost believe he is there next to me.
	The world seems to quiet in my time of mourning, and even the pups are silent for the father they have never known.
	I walk through the woods to school every day, just to see Wolf’s puppies.  I remember when I first saw his mate, and I instantly knew from the look in her eyes that she had lost a friend, too.
	The wolves and I now have a close relationship, and Luke and the others adore me.  I only wish that my Wolf could get to know his kids.  I never named him, because he had always been just My Wolf.  He would stay with me forever.	
	As the sun sets, its firey red and orange colors wash over the procession, and the wolf is finally at peace.
			“Marked”, 6-8, p. 1