Zima bowed her head. She couldn’t bring herself to tell them that she’d let the human escape. They’d once been inseparable, she and Grom. But on the longest day of the year a fire had spread, killing both their parents.
Their mother and father had ordered Zima and Grom to get the younger pups away from the danger. They obeyed, carrying Leto and Potok as far as they could, waiting in safety for their parents to follow the scent trails they’d left behind.
Their parents never returned.
After that, Grom stepped up as leader of the pack, and the five moons since had seen more humans in the forest setting traps and tracking their pack. Grom wasn’t Zima’s friend anymore, he was her guardian. Stern and distant, he moved with an intensity that made Zima’s legs quiver. Her heart ached at what she had lost—not just their parents, but her closest companion.
Now, at the thought of admitting she’d spared the human, it felt like she’d made the wrong choice. She’d been too weak to go through with it.
But at least she had refused to help Baba Yaga. That much she could be proud of.
The witch appeared—Baba Yaga, Zima said.
Grom’s ears twitched in surprise while the rest of his body grew stiff with alarm. Baba Yaga, here? he asked. He glanced around the clearing, as though expecting the witch to emerge from the trees at any moment.
She came to assign me a task, Zima said. Then she couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself as she added, But I refused her.
She waited for Grom’s approval, a sign that she had done well.
Grom’s expression was rigid, immovable. He turned to Potok, who had crept close to stand at Zima’s flank. Go. Back to the home place, he said. Potok flinched but obeyed. Grom then turned to Leto. And you. I need to speak with Zima alone, he said. Leto followed Potok from the clearing as though he’d just been given a stern lecture.
Grom stomped to the far side of the clearing. The earth trembled under his muscled frame. Tell me what happened, he said, everything.
Zima tugged her claws through the dirt. Telling the whole story meant admitting that she’d let the human go. She began with her and her younger brothers tracking their final meal before starting the trek toward the home place. But when it came time to explain how she had hesitated to kill the human, Zima choked. She couldn’t face Grom’s disappointment. So instead, she slid straight from when she crouched, no farther than a leap from the human, to when she’d detected the smell of magic.
She’d never kept the truth from him before. Ever. It felt like it confirmed all the distance that had grown between them since the fire. Like a canyon, it opened out before her, and soon it would be too far to jump across.
When she got to the part where she accused Baba Yaga of siding with the humans, Grom let out a growl. Zima stopped, her mouth still open, startled into silence.
The witch spoke to you, and instead of running away, you spoke back? Grom said. There was a dangerous rumble in his throat.
I tried to run, but she used her magic to hold me to the ground, Zima said. She demonstrated the way her paws had been ensnared. I could not move!
Grom thought on this for a moment. The witch uses words to distort and confuse, and now it seems she can force you to listen. He began to pace back and forth across the clearing, moving so swiftly that his paws left barely a trace in the dirt. What has she done to you? Did she turn you against us?
No! Zima said. She said she was in danger from the humans, just like we are.
Grom froze, and Zima realized immediately that she’d said something horribly wrong. This is how she tricks you. You should have called me as soon as you smelled the witch, but you did not. And then you failed to kill a human.
So he knew, without her telling him. Zima pawed at the ground in shame.
You let your fears possess you. You will never protect this pack until you control them. There was something in the curve of Grom’s forehead and the stiffness of his shoulders that she had never seen before. Something between anger and heartbreak. He let out a sigh. And, he said, you kept the truth from me.
I was ashamed, said Zima. It was wrong—
Humans lie. The witch lies. Wolves do not lie.
Zima opened her mouth to speak again, but Grom silenced her with a glare more piercing than a hunter’s knife. I wish our parents were here, he said. I do not want to punish you. They would know if you…But he stopped, not finishing the thought.
If I what? Zima asked.
Grom shifted, his paws planted firmly on the ground, the way they might when he faced a threat.
And Zima realized. She was the threat.
…if the witch cursed you, he said.
No! Zima said, shock and hurt rippling through her fur. I would have known, I would have felt it if she tried to curse me!
Would you? said Grom. I cannot take that risk.
It was a mistake, said Zima, I know that now. But it was a choice, I made a choice—
Grom turned away from her, swiping a paw across his ears. Quiet! he said, cold and sharp as an icicle. I need to think. I must decide what to do. He resumed pacing.
Zima clamped her mouth shut, but she wanted to argue that she had chosen not to kill the human because she’d thought that that was the right thing to do. It had nothing to do with witches or curses. It was Zima, only Zima, trying to make the right decision. Because the forest was becoming more dangerous for their pack than she had ever known. First the humans, now a witch—threats were circling like birds of prey. Zima thought of the fox in the snare. Her pack was no match for the weapons of humans, or the powers of the witch. If she’d killed the human, it might have prompted an all-out attack from the village. At least now they had a chance to decide what to do next.
Their mother had said the forest was so large that a wolf could run for a hundred days and not reach the other side. We should run, Zima said.
Grom stopped in his tracks. You, Grom said, giving his words the weight of a boulder, want to run?
Zima answered with her body language—her tail upright, her ears forward.
Yes.
It was the only way to protect the pack.
And when the humans follow, what do we do then? Grom asked. Do we keep running?
His tail flicked. No, Grom said. I have another plan.
A lump of disappointment rose in Zima’s chest. He hadn’t even considered her suggestion. But she swallowed, hoping to crush the feeling flat. What is it? she asked, trying to sound eager.
Perhaps I will tell you, he said slowly. But not now. He turned to her, and there was almost an apology in his eyes. I need to know that the witch has not altered you, that I can still trust you.