Tia

Fallon left his truck back on the highway with Giles’ vehicle, which means another long, freezing walk through ice and snow. I’m still weak and shaken, but I refuse to let either of them carry me.

“You okay?” Giles asks, walking beside me, his warm breath creating a puff of smoke in the frigid air.

“Ju-us-st co-old.” My teeth chatter with my words.

“I know. We’ve only got about another five minutes and then you’ll be in a warm truck.”

Fallon adds, “And I packed a blanket in my backpack for once we’re there. Just imagine that around you for the next quarter of a mile, okay?”

I give him a forced smile and nod.

There’s a howl in the distance, followed by an echo of yowling that seems way to close for my liking. Both Fallon and Giles stop, listening.

I catch the look they give each other.

“What is it?”

“Wolves,” Giles says.

“I thought they slept during the day.”

“They do,” Fallon says, frowning.

“That didn’t sound like they were sleeping,” I say lightly, despite the anxiety that presses against my chest.

Both Giles and Fallon pull out their guns.

My eyes widen. “You think they’ll attack us?”

“If they’re hungry enough,” Giles says. “Stay between us.”

We start walking again.

The crunch of our boots in the snow, a branch cracking beneath a foot, the caw of a bird high in a tree, every sound puts me on high alert. I hadn’t even considered the dangers of the wildlife deep in the woods.

“Are there a lot of wolves out here?”

“The packs move around. Haven’t seen many in the past ten years in this area, but they may have moved if they couldn’t find food.”

“What other animals are out here?”

Giles smiles down at me, then glances around. “Depends on the time of the year, but you’ll see deer, bison, moose, bears-”

“Bears,” I gasp.

Giles chuckles. “Mostly black bears around here, but sometimes grizzlies, and the odd polar bear, but they don’t usually travel this far inland.”

“I’d love to see a polar bear and penguins. I’ve only ever read about them.”

“Quiet,” Fallon growls out in a low whisper, raising his gun.

Giles immediately does the same. I tense, feeling vulnerable without a weapon of my own. Then I remember the gun in my hand, the shot when I pulled the trigger. The dead man at my feet. My body recoils and I’m grateful that I’m not holding a lethal weapon. I’m not ready to feel the cold steel against my skin again.

“Nine o’clock,” Fallon says.

“Shit,” Giles mutters.

My eyes dart, trying to see what they see. “What?”

“Wolf.” Giles’ nostrils flare.

I glance around, but I still don’t see anything but snow and trees.

“Stay still,” Fallon warns.

I’ve never seen a wolf before, but I’ve read about them, and I know why the term lone wolf is an oxymoron. They travel in packs, almost always. If there’s one, then there’s sure to be others close by.

“How many bullets do you have?” Fallon asks Giles.

I see Giles close his eyes briefly like he’s counting. “Two, maybe three.”

“You’re going to have to make them count.”

It’s then I see the flash of teeth, the glow of eyes in the shadows. Two sets. And a low growl comes from somewhere behind me.

I turn and let out a small squeal. Ears pressed against its head, fangs bared, the animal takes slow, predatory steps towards us.

“Giles,” I gasp.

He turns, and without hesitation pulls the trigger. The wolf lets out a heart-wrenching howl as it flies back against a snow-covered log, blood coating its white fur.

All hell breaks loose as two more wolves jump from the tree line and another one behind us. All ready to make us pay for the wolf Giles shot.

Two of the wolves storm toward Fallon, and I watch him run with all his might to head them off. He shouts as he runs, then fires his gun at the wolves, his face filled with fury.

Shots ring out. One after another. The wolves move too fast for him to hit his target and his bullets are gone.

“Fuck,” he screams, the wolves sensing his fear, begin to circle him.

The third wolf isn’t so cautious. He leaps for Giles, pouncing on him and forcing him to fall backward into the snow. His gun falls from his hand and he reaches for it, as the animal snarls and snaps at him.

I stand numb and useless, watching them pay once again for my foolishness. I have no gun, no way to defend myself. No way to help them.

Looking around desperately, I see a large branch a couple of feet away. I move quickly to pick it up, knowing it won’t do much, but it’s better than standing here unarmed.

Giles wraps his large arms around the body of the wolf, wrestling with it, as it presses its paws against his chest. It’s clear Giles has been trained for attacks, his body moves swiftly, his focus steady as he fights to keep the sharp fangs from tearing into him. The wolf’s savage eyes tell me he won’t back down without a fight.

Neither will my husband.

But even with all of Giles’ brute strength, for all our joking last night about him being my beast—he is still a man— not an animal on the hunt, starved and ready to eat.

Giles tosses the animal against a fallen tree, but it’s only momentarily stunned. It shakes its head, then crouches low, ready to attack again.

“Stay back,” Giles screams.

I keep my branch hoisted like a bat, ready to swing at the animal if it comes near me.

The other two wolves still circle Fallon and they look less feral than the one focused on Giles.

It attacks again, its movement quick, precise, and despite Giles’ swift actions, the wolf’s teeth bite into his leg, snapping down hard.

I recoil at the sound, falling to the snow, my hands covering my mouth as I hold back a scream, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

Giles kicks it away, and Fallon stands a few yards from him, moving in circles with the other two wolves to keep them at bay. Fallon shouts at Giles to move back, but it’s obvious it isn’t so easy. Giles kicks at the wolf who still has his calf in his jaws. With one heavy boot to the face, Giles manages to release himself. The animal yelps and falls back.

The snow now red with blood and Giles’ pants are shredded where the animal attacked him.

Bile rises in my throat. I can’t lose him.

The gun is still too far for him to reach.

Despite his warning to stay back, I lunge for it. The wolf’s head turns in my direction and it snarls.

“Tia,” Giles’ shouts.

“Here.” I toss him the gun, knowing that throwing a loaded weapon isn’t the smartest idea, but if I don’t, the animal will attack again, and I can see Giles’ strength is slipping away.

He catches it, but he isn’t fast enough to fire. The wolf lunges again, biting down on his arm, forcing a howl to escape from the mouth of my beloved.

Is that what this is? Love?  Because at this moment, as blood pours from Giles’ arm all I see are flashes of what a life shared with him could have been. Tender kisses and long talks and neither of us alone, ever again.

I would never replace Caroline, but I would be his wife. And I know I could have loved him. Would have loved him.

I do love him.

My voice is ragged as I cry out, as I clench my stomach with my arms, desperate and afraid. Not for myself, but for the men I love.

Giles, though is a military man. A fighter. A man who doesn’t know the meaning of giving up.

His fingers curl around the gun and he raises it, all while blood is running from his arm and leg, coloring the ground, red burgeoning against the pure white.

He shoots his attacker without taking pause. The shot rings out as the bullet hits the wolf squarely between his eyes, and the animal falls limply to the ground.

The other two wolves move fast, racing away, howling as they run, not looking back at their fallen pack member—maybe they know, instinctively, that they would be next.

I crawl across the snow, my heart stretching across the distance between Giles and me. It’s the only way I’m able to move at all. Love propels me to move forward and push away fear. Giles cannot die. Not now. Not like this.

My hands cup his face, his eyes are heavy like all his strength is spent. His face is ghostly white, and his skin is cold and clammy.

I push back his hair, my tears spilling across his cheeks, and even though he tries to focus on me, his eyes roll back.

No, no, no.

“I’m here. I’m here and I’m yours.” I’m hysterical and feel as unhinged as the wolves. Wild. But not free. No. I wanted freedom. Ran here to find it. But this bleak landscape is just like everywhere else. It’s just a different type of death. A different type of pain.

Maybe that is all life is. Death, no matter how you fight it, it’s coming for us all.

“Look at me,” I beg. “Look at me, Giles.” My eyes are blurry with tears, with an ache I cannot name.

How did he bear to lose Caroline? How did he stand up again, give his service to the State of Alaska when they had taken the woman he loved? How did he put his name in the lottery, take that risk, knowing that love can end in death?

That it most certainly will.

“I’m here,” he says, his hand moving to mine, but there’s no strength in it. “You’re not alone.”

My chest heaves in relief and I feel Fallon ease me away, moving quickly, but with tenderness. “Rip these strips,” he instructs, handing me a shirt from his pack. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

I nod, my emotions kept at bay as I realize Fallon and I are the only ones here to keep Giles from bleeding out. Instinct kicks in, and I realize I know this, how to help. “A tourniquet, right?”

Fallon nods. “Right.”

We get to work, me on his arm, and Fallon on his leg. My years of studying biology and pre-med giving me the foresight I need.

“No, higher, Fal,” I instruct. “Two inches above the wound on the part of the limb closest to the heart.”

He flashes me a look of surprise, but nods and does as I say. Giles cries out in pain as I tie the strip of cloth, and his response is just what I was looking for, to know I did it correctly.

“The SUV isn’t too far,” Fallon tells us. “But we have to be careful. Can you stand?”

Giles grunts in reply, and Fallon helps his old friend up.

“Fuck.” Giles clenches his teeth and I know he’s putting on a brave face. The bite in his leg is much deeper than the one in his arm, and I have no idea what we’ll do if he needs a hospital. From what I overheard this morning, calling any attention to ourselves is just asking for trouble.

Giles has his good arm draped over Fal’s shoulder, and Fallon holds onto him from the back, helping hold him up since he can’t use his right foot.

We don’t speak as we move through the snow at an excruciatingly slow pace, but we manage. Giles’ pants and shirt are soaked through with blood and sweat pours down both the men’s faces. Once at the vehicle, I spread out the blanket in the backseat, so Giles can lie down, and Fallon eases him up and onto the seat.

The men clench their jaws, gritting their teeth, both holding on for dear life. Once he has Giles situated, Fallon closes the back door of the SUV and we both climb into the front.

Finally, we are driving down the snow-covered road, all of us rattled to our very core.

We need to keep Giles alert, that much I remember from my medical training. We can’t let him fall asleep. I turn the radio on, rolling through station after station of static. But I’m desperate for something familiar, a sound that can soothe us all.

Fallon’s hand wraps around mine, stilling me. “You’re not gonna find anything out here.”

“But we can’t let him fall asleep,” I whisper. “We can’t let him-”

Giles moans, and I turn, seeing his eyes open, pleading with mine. “You sing, Tia. Sing me a song.”

My face falls, remembering his description of Caroline. A woman in an apron who sang songs all day long, familiar with all the things I’m not. And I wonder, how I can ever be the woman he needs - the woman any of them need.

But then I stop myself from the rabbit trail that leads to self-loathing and pity. That is not the woman these men need either. They need strength and resolve. I’m not Caroline, but Giles isn’t asking me to be.

All he is asking for is a song.

And I can give him that.

I reach for his hand and our fingers lace as I reach deep inside myself, looking for a thread to something that can stitch up his pain, if even for just a little while.

The words are tight in my throat, but it’s all I have to offer. The song is for Giles and Fallon as much as it is for me. My voice is thin and small, but it is enough. At this moment we are all breathing, alive, and clinging to one another. I may have run from my husbands once, but I vow to never run again. I can do better, be better. Be brave in ways I’ve never had to be before.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night… Take these broken wings and learn to fly… All your life… You were only waiting for this moment to arise…”