Left to the wolves

And so their expedition started: across the quiet Sunday highway, toward the stretch of snow-covered trees that poked out on the hill above the river.

“The river is frozen,” Martin stated. “We will be exploring it.”

He picked up a handful of fresh wet snow, clapped it between his mittens, and hurled the snowball at Vic’s shoulder.

Vic’s dad shook the snow off Vic’s jacket.

“Nobody is exploring any frozen rivers,” he said. He looked left and right and, catching their hands, started crossing the highway.

“Are there any wolves in that forest?” Vic asked, looking up to where his dad’s woolen hat blocked the greying sun.

“It’s not a forest, Vic,” his dad said. “It’s just a patch of trees. Don’t you remember? We were there for a picnic.”

Vic didn’t remember. The picnic, the green grass and the rippling river seemed like a picture from a movie he had watched a long time ago and had forgotten.

“There will be polar bears,” Martin said, jumping. He wriggled himself free and ran across the remaining lane, his snowsuit rustling. There, he raised his arms and stomped toward the trees, roaring.

“So wolves won’t eat us then?” Vic asked, peering into the trees. “I think I just saw one.”

Martin spun around. “Where?” He rushed to a bush and snapped a dry branch off. He waved it in the air. “Let’s hunt some wolves.”

Vic’s dad hummed a song when they entered the grove. Clouds of breath escaped from his lips. The air on the hill smelled like the inside of a freezer. The fresh snow crunched as they pressed first footprints into it.

Martin rushed ahead, banging his stick against the trunks.

“Vic, look what this stick can do.” He smashed a tree and snow dropped onto his hood. Martin hollered and ran to another tree. Vic scanned the snow for traces of a wolf. The surface seemed smooth like marshmallow and slightly blue. He took his mitten off and touched it with his finger. Martin leaped behind his back and Vic shuddered.

“I’ll kill all wolves for you,” Martin said, driving his stick into the snow.

Vic stepped aside and walked toward the hillside. Below, the river stood still, as if under a terry sheet.

“The river looks like it’s sleeping, dad,” Vic said.

His dad patted his head.

It got quiet for a moment, because Martin had disappeared below the slope. His voice pierced the air a moment later.

“I can slide down on my bum. Look!”

“Martin, climb back,” Vic’s dad said, pushing through the fresh snow on the hillside. “Come back so I can see you.”

“Why did we even take him?” Vic asked. “Do you want to feed him to the wolves?”

His dad chuckled.

“He’s a neighbor, Vic. His mom needed a break. We’re walking anyway, aren’t we?”

His dad started to trot toward the river to catch Martin who was swooshing his way down the slope.

“Dad, wait. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“There are no wolves here, Vic,” his dad shouted at him over his shoulder. “Martin, come back right now!”

Martin squealed when he got to a particularly steep incline. His snowsuit turned him into a rocket. Vic grinned. It looked like fun. He almost sat down onto the snow himself to slide, but a thump came and something cracked at the foot of the hill.

“Martin, don’t move,” Vic’s dad called in a strange voice.

Vic saw his dad lose his footing as he ran downhill. He tumbled for a few steps, then got back up. Vic tried to follow, but his knees stuck in thick snow. His shoes scooped up loads of it. The cold lumps melted against his ankles.

“Dad? Martin? What happened?”

His dad crouched over the stone parapet above the river. He was hauling Martin, who seemed shorter than before. His head barely poked out above the parapet from the river’s side.

“It just cracked,” Martin said, his eyes wide, blinking. “I plopped onto it, and the ice just cracked.”

With a grunt Vic’s dad dragged Martin up across the parapet, and lowered him onto the fluffy snow. Martin’s blue snowsuit darkened from the waist below. Water melted the snow around him.

“Broke anything?” Vic’s father asked. He took his gloves off and patted Martin’s legs.

“No,” Martin said and looked down at his soaked legs.

Vic’s dad checked his watch, nodded to himself and got up. He started pulling Martin up the slope. Every time Martin took a step, he fell, his legs heavy with the river’s water. They passed Vic without a word, just panting. Even Martin kept quiet. Only his eyes were large and blinking, as if he was deep in thought.

When they were back up on the path, Vic’s dad checked his watch again. Keeping his eyes on Martin, he said, “Vic, you’ll wait here. I’ll run back home with Martin. I’ll carry him–”

“Daddy, no!” Vic grabbed his dad’s coat. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”

His dad rubbed his forehead.

“This isn’t the time for your wolves, Vic. You don’t want him to freeze, do you?”

“I’m not cold,” Martin said, his lips turning blue.

Vic shook his head. Tears started rolling down his cheeks.

“It will be quicker, Vic,” his dad said, from somewhere far away. Vic pressed his mittens to his chest and wept.

“But, daddy, what if…” he whispered but cut himself off.

“Just wait here,” his dad said, pointing to the snow. He picked Martin up. “Don’t move anywhere.”

Vic watched his dad run away, his shoulders pushing forward. At first, he could still see the back of his dad’s coat flashing between the trees. He watched it until he could no longer see through the ripples in his eyes. His dad was gone.

Tears froze on his cheeks like tiny rivers. The ice bit into his skin, but he didn’t raise his hand to wipe them away. He stood still. The snow in his shoes melted; his feet started to ache. He didn’t wiggle his toes to warm them up.

The cold air scratched his throat. He gulped it in and then tried to stifle the sound. He breathed out puffs of air and listened. It was so quiet. He thought he could hear snow falling. There were no other boys left in the world. There were no dads. Vic was the last one on the whole planet. He waited for the wolves to come. He watched the blinding snow.

A figure appeared between the trees, leaping, sending puffs of steam into the air. Vic blinked the tears away, and recognized the way the shoulders moved. He watched his dad come back.

The first thing his dad said was “All right, let’s go,” but Vic took another second to watch his dad’s face. Would his dad really take him home, or leave him in the forest?

“He’s home now,” his dad said, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was still looking at Martin, and not at Vic. “He should be all right.”

Vic scraped the frozen tears off his cheeks and walked after his dad. Their feet fell into their own traces. They left behind the frozen river and the snowy trees. When it was time to cross the highway, Vic watched his dad’s hand sway freely, ready to be caught and held. Vic raised his hand, but then he dropped it. They crossed the highway silently.

They stopped in front of Martin’s window and looked inside. Warm safe light streamed out through the glass.

His dad nodded and continued walking, but Vic stayed still to watch the light.