The apartment was silent in the aftermath of his guests' departure, and Fraser sat at the kitchen table, still gazing at the papers. Maps, public accounts, lists of stock holders, associates, supported charities...

The murders had occurred above the tree line, North of the circle, in a little place, home to what had, ten years ago, been no more than a thousand people, Amorak Island.

The population would have shrunk by now. All the Inuit communities were shrinking.

Amorak, the wolf. So, Fraser thought, the appellation "Wolf Island" was not connected to the more famous Wolfe Island, but to this barren rock, a distant island one could walk to over the ice. As far as he was aware, however, there was no mining in the area... The local community were among the vanishingly few that still clung to their traditional ways of life. He sighed, knuckling his eyeballs. Behind his lids coloured lights exploded and shone, and he watched them, thinking of the Northern Lights, and phosphorescence, winter herself dancing against the sky.

He had policed these communities. Strong people, fashioned by the weather, built to survive. But increasingly their society was breaking down, as the youth yearned for modern life. You couldn't blame them. Life was hard in the Arctic, and certainly matters were eased by innovations like snow mobiles, and more solid houses.

Yet... it was a hard thing to see a way of life break down. Food was increasingly imported by plane, weather permitting, at crippling prices, and those families who had forgotten the art of hunting suffered poverty, even malnutrition. Television induced a craving amongst the young for something "better", and many of them left home, finding too late that the world they had aspired to was colder, in its way, and more harsh than the land they had left behind. The suicide rate was climbing, as was addiction, in those communities which had tried to adapt to the modern world.

A woman's face flashed before him. With a stab of pain he saw himself standing at her door, clutching his beaver skin hat in his hand, his heart like a hammer in his chest. Their breath plumed in the air between them, and there were no tears as he told her that her son had taken his own life. The look on her face was too terrible for tears, worse even than her boy's blood frozen in the snow. His first suicide, the victim still a child, all of seventeen.

He laid his head on the table. A headache was blossoming between his temples.

"I'm tired, Dief," he spoke flatly. "Do you understand any of this?" He opened his eyes, head still pressed to the table, and looked across at his wolf for an answer. Dief stared back at him, with a solemn golden gaze.

Something was wrong. Fraser felt it in his guts, in his chest, in his aching head. What? What was it?

He was afraid to sleep.

It wasn't that the dreams had scared him... he was used to that. In fact, these dreams didn't scare him at all... This was something else.

He straightened, still looking over at Diefenbaker. The long languid wolf yawned, rolled on his side, amber eyes almost shining.

It wasn't that he was alone either. He wasn't alone. There was Dief.

Diefenbaker staring. Trying to tell him something.

"You know you've been dreaming too loud," Fraser commented. "I can't keep up with them, I'm human, it's not in my nature."

Sleep was out of the question. Fraser stood, straightened, paced.

Dief continued to stare.

...

Ray saw Elaine safely back home, then drove around aimlessly, trying to kill time before going back to...

Where? Where would he go? Home, or that rotten FBI apartment?

If he went home at this late hour he'd probably wake folk up, if he went to the apartment it would feel like accepting a bribe, like taking a step to 'yes, I'll definitely do it.'

Eventually he parked up, foolishly enough, in Fraser's neighbourhood. He looked up to see his friend's light was still on. A shadow kept flickering across the window... Benny must be walking up and down. He couldn't sleep either. Should he risk going up there? Maybe if he talked about it Benny would help him make the right decision.

Yeah, he knew what Benny would do in his place. He'd go and put himself in harm's way. He'd do the right thing, no matter how painful. But dammit, he wasn't Benny.

Ray shut his eyes, trying to make his mind up what to do, and suddenly it was morning. He sat up with a jerk, to discover crust in his eyes and a crick in his neck.

"Great," he groaned. He looked at the time. Could he feign illness again? He shook his head. He'd better go in, get some regular police work done, before Canada and wolves came calling again. Profoundly annoyed at himself for having slept in his clothes he started up the car and made his way, reluctantly, to work.

…

Thatcher was torn. On the one hand, Fraser had been rude, outright insubordinate, stubborn. On the other hand... he was so often right about these things. And there was still that matter of his head injury to consider... how much leeway should she give him?

He continued to stand in front of her, arms clasped together behind his back, as though on parade. He was in the brown uniform which she always associated with his first act of minor sedition. A smile flicked across her face for a moment, as she remembered his declaration, "I will not change my uniform." He might as well have said "I will never change." He was objectionable, obtuse, obstinate. She should be angry with him, but...

"So, you still refuse to apologise?"

"Yes Sir, I cannot apologise for telling the truth."

She fixed him with a stern look. "You realise that I will have to discipline you?"

"Yes Sir."

"You realise that this will go on your record?"

"Yes Sir."

She pursed her lips, and tapped her pen against the desk. Still trying to get the seriousness of the situation through to him she continued. "You realise that your personnel record is full of incidents that make you appear in a less than favourable light?"

"Yes Sir, I'm afraid that I do."

She shrugged. "Well, you will do what you always do, I suppose, stick to your principles even when they're most inconvenient." She looked up at him. "I'm going to have to suspend you, for a suitable period of time."

"Yes Sir."

"You could at least appear upset about this Constable," she snapped.

"If you wish, Sir," he replied.

"Oh... never mind," she let out a breath. "See this as a chance to take an unofficial holiday, do something to de stress yourself."

"Distress myself?"

"No..." she shook her head with exasperation. "Dee stress yourself, dee."

"Ah, thank you Sir."

"A month," she said, "actually, make that two. Hopefully by the time you're back this unpleasantness will be forgotten."

"Thank you Sir."

"So, what do you think you'll do?"

"Actually Sir, I thought I might return to Canada for a while."

"Good," she nodded. "Some R and R will do you good."

At the time she congratulated herself on having arrived at a solution which saved face for all involved, and gave Constable Fraser an opportunity to recover his sense and cool down. Later, of course, she was to curse herself for not having anticipated just how much trouble Fraser's R and R would create, both for him and the Consulate.

Unaware of what was to come she acknowledged his nod with an irritated flick of the hand, as though swatting a fly. "Dismissed," she declared, and returned to her paper work, barely noticing as Fraser left the room.

...

Ray was following a tip, and as a result was sitting with a Rookie outside a liquor store, waiting for some kids to try and rob it. One of their sisters had the sense to phone the station, and Ray picked up the case. "They'll have pretend guns," she'd said, "but I'm worried because Johnny might end up getting into worse things, I just want someone to stop him before he gets too bad."

Ray had been reassuring, and soothing... but now was wishing he'd got Fraser to accompany him rather than this poor, nervous kid he was stuck with.

Time crawled, and kept on crawling. He was just on the point of calling it a day and driving on when, moments before closing, he saw two teenagers nervously approaching the store, one of them carrying what appeared to be a shot gun, the other clumsily pulling down a balaclava.

It turned out to be a very easy arrest, the girl's brother Johnny seeming, if anything, to be relieved that they'd been stopped. The Rookie was beaming with pride, and despite the boredom in which he'd passed the day Ray was feeling pretty good as they arrived at the station house.

"There's a kid here to see you," Elaine said, "you know that kid you and Fraser arrested that time, Willie?"

"Yeah... he walks Diefenbaker for Fraser when he's at work? What's he doing here so late?"

"I think he's upset," Elaine said.

A coil of alarm twisted in Ray's gut. "Thanks Elaine," he said over his shoulder, as he made his way rapidly to his desk.

Willie was indeed very upset.

"Look what he gave me," he thrust a handful of notes into Ray's face. "He's paid me in advance for two months, even though he's taking Dief with him, and he won't tell me why he's going."

"Where's he going?" Ray remained standing, poised to run out the door if necessary.

"He's going to Canada," Willie said, his voice squeaking high with panic, "he says he has business out there."

"Canada?" Ray couldn't stop the anger from coming out. "He's going to Canada and he didn't even tell me?"

"He told me to tell you, he said he's been trying to get hold of you all day..."

"I was on the world's most boring stake out." Ray resisted the urge to kick something. "Canada... great."

"He said to give you this key to his apartment, and to say thank you to Elaine for helping with the case."

Ray sat heavily on the edge of his desk. So that was the way it was then, Fraser was running off into the Arctic Circle to clear the name of a bunch of wolves.

Crap. That meant he was running right into the dragon's den. If Fraser thought that murders were being covered up then he was almost certainly correct. Hell, Ray knew already he was correct. He could just see Fraser up there, trying to track down a murderer without any backup or local support.

He'll get himself killed, Ray thought, and cursed aloud. He couldn't let him do it alone.

"Thanks Willie," he laid a hand on the lad's shoulder and squeezed.

"You gonna be able to help him?"

"You can bet I'll try."

…

Fraser hadn't slept since the night he'd stayed at Ray's. He must have been driving for two hours when he realised he simply couldn't stay awake another moment.

He turned the wheel on the rental, and pulled alongside a gas station. Give it a minute, he thought, rest your eyes a little, then you can fill up, get a cup of coffee... Fraser was not a fan of coffee, but he realised he'd need some help to stay awake.

"I see you're asleep," he grumbled at Dief, who was lolling across the back seat.

"Don't take it out on the dog," came a voice from the passenger seat.

"He's a wolf Dad," Fraser looked across at the old ghost. "When did you get here?"

"Oh, I've been watching you for a while," his father said. "Someone needs to keep an eye on you."

Fraser grunted, and closed his eyes.

"You realise that you're being rather foolish?"

"In what way?"

"Running off like this. You're going to try and sort out this wolf problem all by yourself, aren't you?"

"Who else can I ask?"

"Well, your Yank friend for a start."

"Ray works for the Chicago PD, he can't just take off... besides, I'm heading due North, I don't know how Ray would cope beyond the Arctic Circle."

"He's handled himself pretty well as an outdoors man in the past. If it hadn't been for him you'd have both died in the woods after that plane crash."

Fraser opened his eyes and gave his father a rather irate look. "At the time you wanted me to ditch him."

"Well, yes... I'm sorry about that. I underestimated him."

"Humph." Fraser shut his eyes again, and pushed his seat back into a reclining position. "Besides, you know as well as I do, the Arctic's not the same as woodlands in the summer."

His father changed the subject. "Have you put on the hand brake?"

"Oh Dad, don't criticise my driving now..." Fraser pulled the Stetson over his eyes with an angry tug.

"Well, someone has to... you can be somewhat inconsistent behind the wheel."

"Shut up, I'm trying to have a nap."

The old ghost gave an angry snort, and absented himself. After a moment Fraser peeked from under the brim at the empty passenger seat. "Goodnight Dad," he said apologetically. He double checked the handbrake, rolled on his side.

A few moments later he was talking in his sleep.

…

Dief didn't hear it when people talked to him, not exactly. Some of the two legs spoke in his head at times, his man in particular, but also the man's friend, and the tonrar, the ghost.

His man was talking to him now, in that two leg way, words instead of shapes. Dief understood words, they played in his head as the shadow of sound, remembered from his youth, and that shadow, when he paid attention to it, painted shapes in his head, and smells, and tastes, and touch. He made an effort to understand his man, and his man, for his part, understood him.

But sometimes the man spoke differently, almost like an amorak, in a way that Dief couldn't explain, only understand.

Dief lay in that space between sleeping and waking, and his ear twitched at remembered sound. For so long he had lived beyond the edge of the world, in the land of the two legs. That wasn't a bad thing, there were compensations to living in this world of strange smells, where the streets were paved with bone, and so many of his kind had lost what made them male, what made them female. From all of that, his man protected him. He even indulged him, grudgingly allowing him the strange food of the two legs. He teased him like a pup, gave him warmth and friendship, played with him in what open spaces they could find. Ran with him, reminded him that he was wolf.

Living in the land of the two legs changed him all the same, just as it changed his man. But here, in this dream they were sharing, the man's speech was changing, deepening into wolf. His form flowed, shadowed and strange. The man shape in Dief's dream was bending, twisting into more familiar contours.

And then, the moment, the swiftness of change.

Amorak.

His man becomes a wolf, and the two of them flee together, fleeting through the whiteness of the true world.

…

Ray was packing hurriedly, stuffing what he could into a bag. What would he need? Winter clothing, maps, compass (now that he could read a compass) emergency food... he wasn't going to be caught with only Dief's peanuts for sustenance this time.

There wasn't time, he thought crossly, he didn't have time to pack properly. Benny just ran off half cocked into the wilderness... and here he was chasing behind him. Did he really think Ray wouldn't help?

Well, no choice for it... he'd have to buy the rest of what he needed when he'd caught up with Fraser, when he discovered what the hell his friend thought he was doing. He imagined the row they'd have, Fraser being polite and logical, him ranting and threatening to throw things at him. He bit back a laugh. Benny was the most annoying guy in the world, but also the best guy he knew. He wouldn't run off into the wilderness for just anyone.

Stuffing his passport and credit card into his wallet he turned and saw Ma standing in the doorway.

He had a dizzy moment, exactly as though he was falling, and put his hand out to brace himself against the wall. He could tell from her face that she knew. Not just that he was going after Fraser, but that, for a long time now, he had been preparing to go elsewhere...

"Ma," he looked to his feet, "I'm sorry."

"Just come home to me son," she said.

He stepped forward into her embrace, and rested his chin on her head. "Yeah Ma, don't worry, I'll always come back home."

…

And Bob Fraser sits invisibly beside his son, not commenting on his driving.

Dief watches man and ghost from the back seat, holds his own counsel and speaks to neither.

Fraser keeps his eyes on the road, pushing towards Canada, with America at his back.