Something was wrong with him, more than just the wolves dying. She edged closer and struggled out of her coat. “You must be cold,” she said. “Here, take my coat.”
It was many minutes before he responded, raising his head an inch from the wolf’s shoulder. With clumsy hands Alex tried to drape her coat over the boy’s lower back. He turned just enough for her to see his face.
Never had she seen such a look of open pain. The boy—Kieran—looked at her with his pale yellow eyes and broke her heart cleanly in two.
Unheeded tears tracked through smudges of dirt on Kieran’s face, and Alex felt her own sobs break loose. They worked their way up from her chest and spilled free as dry little hiccups.
The boy raised himself to his knees, fingers still buried in the black wolfs fur. He made no sound to accompany the torment in his eyes. Alex scrubbed her knuckles across her face, and in that brief moment of blindness she felt cold fingers brush her cheek.
She held very still as Kieran withdrew his hand, one of her tears trembling at the tip of his finger. He closed his eyes and touched the finger to his parted lips. Her tear mingled with his. And then, as if some spell had been broken, his silence ended.
He turned his face away, lilted his head to the sky, and howled.
Alex forgot her own grief. She crawled closer, drawn to him, driven to console the inconsolable. Her hand found his chilled back. His cry wavered for an instant and then continued unbroken, accepting her presence. Kieran’s grief wrapped around her, pulled her within the circle of something she couldn’t define.
“Alexandra!”
She felt the boy’s muscles knot under her hand. His gaze snapped toward the sound of the shout.
“Granddad,” Alex said under her breath.
“Alexandra! Where are you?” That was her Mother’s voice, laced with anxiety.
Kieran flinched sideways; Alex’s coat slid to the ground. He crouched between the wolves, folded in on himself, and looked around with wild desperation. His muscles bunched to carry him away.
“No,” she urged. “No, don’t go! It’s only my family—”
His gazed fixed on her again. For a moment she thought he would listen. He lifted his hand, cupped his fingers in a gesture of entreaty.
“Help me,” he croaked.
Tears blinded Alex as she reached for him. Slowly, slowly she brushed his fingertips, slid her palm along his, began to close her smaller hand over his callused one.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “They were my friends, too. I’ll help you. I promise, whatever’s wrong, I’ll help you—”
Branches cracked behind her. The boy was on his feet in a second, leaving Alex grasping air. Like a deer the boy sprang for the nearest cover, vanishing so cleanly that Alex couldn’t tell where he had passed. She sat where she was, frozen, as her grandfather walked into the clearing.
“Alexandra! Eve, she’s here, she’s safe.”
“My God!”
Her mother’s gasp compelled Alex to turn. She looked past her grandfather to Mother’s white face, Father’s dosed expression as they saw the wolves. Before Alex could speak Mother gathered her in an urgent hug, scraping Alex’s hair back from her face with shaking hands.
“Alexandra! Are you all right, honey? Did they hurt you?”
Alex struggled to find words, her mind still with the boy and his terrible sorrow. She returned her mother’s embrace. “I’m okay,” she managed. “The wolves—they were already dead. A hunter killed them.”
Granddad moved behind her, rising from an examination of the bodies. “Poachers,” he said grimly.
“God, Dad,” Mother said. “They could have shot Alex—”
“But they didn’t.” He looked across the forest, the way the boy had run. “Whoever they are, they’re gone now.”
Mother pulled Alex in for a second hug, and Alex glanced up at Father over her shoulder. His face was set and unreadable, but she knew he was angry.
“I don’t have to tell you how much trouble you made for us, Alexandra,” he said. “We’ve been searching all day.”
Mother sighed. “William…”
Alex swallowed. “I’m sorry, Father.”
Granddad helped his daughter and granddaughter to their feet. He glanced down at the wolves, shaking his head.