His breath was frost and so was my mind. The snow crunched softly under our boots. The dark sky loomed above us, heavy as our bated breaths. He held my hand and gave it a squeeze, a warm mitten touch of reassurance in this cold, dark world. My eyes said hello to mother moon, which cast a golden reflection back into their deep pools. There was a soft howl in the distance. They had called to us. We were getting closer.
I had waited years for this moment. I saw my first and only when I was a little girl. A white wolf. Ever since, its image, dismissed by all others as childhood fantasy, had haunted me. Her blue eyes watched me in my sleep. There were more. I knew it.
Nathaniel too had known. I met him in the Natural History Museum. We were both searching for answers. Side by side we stood staring transfixed at the stuffed wolves of the exhibit. Our wolves were not there. They were unlike anything anyone had ever known. He asked me to coffee. The look of one who sees them is the same. His smile broke me. The search for our white wolves was the bond, the glue that held us together.
Nathaniel smiled and held me close. "It will all be okay," he said.
They were watching.