“Was that…a wolf?” said Katerina as she came to stand at Nadya’s side.
“No,” Nadya lied quickly, hoping Katerina hadn’t gotten a good look.
But she had, of course she had, and the crease between her brows appeared.
“You can’t lie to me,” she said. “The tsar will never allow you to join us if he knows that you lie.” In celebration of her journey to the castle, Katerina was dressed in what must have been a gift from the tsar. Silver threads glinted in the sunlight and the fine sapphire blue fabric flowed like a stream. The clothes suited her, as though she belonged in them. They would never look so well on Nadya.
Katerina moved to stand in front of Nadya, blocking her view of the trees. “That was very dangerous,” she said gently. “That wolf is not your pet.”
The hope of joining Katerina at the castle battled with her fears of never entering the forest again and—at the same time—not being good enough to be accepted. She had to try. If she ever wanted a home and family, she needed to do what Katerina asked.
“I will try harder,” Nadya said. “I will make you proud.”
“I know you will,” said Katerina, pressing a palm to Nadya’s cheek. Then she reached into her small travel bag and withdrew a carved wooden doll, its grass hair wild and untamed. The crooked smile on its face looked as if it had been painted on by Katerina herself when she was very small.
“I’ve had this doll all my life,” said Katerina. “Will you keep her safe for me?”
Nadya let Katerina place the doll in her hands, but grumbled, “I’m too old for a doll.”
Katerina smiled. “You’re the brave one. I need you to keep her safe.”
No one had ever given Nadya anything before. It would have been a lot easier to say goodbye if Katerina had left with a scold or reprimand instead of a gift. Nadya mumbled what she hoped sounded like a thank-you and pulled the doll close to her chest as Katerina’s soft footsteps padded away.
But from the road Katerina turned and said, “Make sure to put on your warm wool. You can’t run around without it just because I’m not here to remind you. I expect snow soon.”
Nadya narrowed her eyes. That was the Katerina she knew. Before she could think of a response, Katerina had disappeared around the front of the orphanage.
Voices cheered and cried in the distance. Katerina and the tsar must have been saying their final goodbyes to the other orphan girls.
Nadya looked behind her, hoping that she might find her wolf staring out at her from the edge of the forest. But he was nowhere to be seen. If she succeeded in joining Katerina in the castle, she would lose him, and no one would understand the heartache that would cause.
She stood alone, picking at the bandages on her hands. The fabric had begun to unravel a little, and she tugged the strip off to examine her wounds. The skin was smooth without a hint of redness. As she bent and flexed her fingers, she could still feel where the wounds had been, as though the forest had marked her, but no sign of the cuts remained. Katerina’s salve had worked wonders.
A twig snap jolted Zima awake. The midday sun peeked through roving clouds overhead. All around was the scuffle of boar and barks of roe deer who, unlike wolves, preferred daylight as their waking hours.
Zima lifted her head, wondering what could have made the noise that woke her. Grom and Potok were each sleeping peacefully, their tongues lolling from their mouths. It took her a moment to realize that Leto was gone.
She rose and slumped to the edge of the clearing where the pack slept. But Leto was nowhere to be seen.
Leaves crunched beneath her carefully placed paws. The forest floor glowed amber in the sun as she trotted along, following Leto’s scent.
She wove her way past poisonous nightshade berries and mushrooms, the scent guiding a safe passage into a part of the forest she’d never entered before. Zima shivered, though the chill air was calm. After tracking the scent over two hills and beyond a stream, she still hadn’t caught up with him.
She picked up speed, stretching her muscles, bounding over roots and rocks. Soon Zima lost track of where in the forest she was, knowing only Leto’s scent and using it to guide her further.
The smell of fire crept through the air, and her heart slammed against her chest. But it wasn’t the stench of sky-high flames scorching trees in the forest, just the small, smoky fires of human wood-burning ovens.
The realization snapped at her with sharp-toothed jaws. Leto was heading toward the village.
No, he couldn’t be. He knew better than to put himself in such danger.
Zima broke into a full run, the messy, flailing run of a wolf with fear nipping at her tail and gnawing on her heart.
She stumbled over a tree stump. There seemed to be stumps everywhere. And just in the distance, riding the wind, came the sound of human chatter. Low voices like the patter of rain mixed with high-pitched laughter.
Zima! What brings you this way? came a call from among the trees, making her jump.
With a glance behind her Zima recognized Veter, the lone wolf. He bounced as he trotted toward her.
Zima tried to keep running but her paw ached from her stumble. She shook it and walked on, shouting over her shoulder, No talking now, Veter—I must find Leto!
But Veter bounded in front of her to block her path, his brown tail wagging.
You can stop to play, he said. I am so happy to see you. His one eye was round and bright.
Zima winced. She couldn’t see him without thinking of the fire; the same fire that killed her parents had also killed his entire pack. Ever since then, Veter had lived near the village, stealing whatever scraps of food he could find and sleeping behind wood piles.
She carried on down the path, but the lone wolf bounded about, inviting her to play.
Zima ducked past him and picked up speed. Veter panted as he galloped to match her pace. Where does Leto’s scent lead? he asked.
The village, she answered. The word caught in her mouth, dry, like she’d swallowed a bunch of dead leaves.
I can help you! He hopped on yet another tree stump. I know the village. I know how to get around there without getting caught. His tongue hung from his mouth as he panted joyfully. We can have fun searching!
Zima stopped in her tracks. She dug her claws into the ground. “Fun” was the last thing she’d call this. Veter didn’t understand the danger, that her heart pounded like a stampede. It was hard to focus on the scent when she had to answer his questions.
It is not fun. It is dangerous. She arched her back, indicating she wanted to be left alone. Leave me.