Warning: Some Language . . .

Temperatures were hovering at around forty-two degrees. No snow yet. The yard looked like a bog in the early Sunday morning light. The rain was still falling, a constant steady beat with no end in sight. Alfred had dug out Bruce's galoshes and his heavy raincoat. This Sunday did not promise to be relaxing, and Bruce wasn't looking forward to sloshing his way across the grounds.

There was no promise that he would find anything. It could all be a waste of time. The constant fall of rain could preserve tracks in the mud or wash them away.

When Dick came down to breakfast, he looked better rested than he had for the last couple of days. Whatever had frightened him apparently hadn't kept him awake. Bruce watched him dig into his plate with a good appetite. It was satisfying to see the weight that the boy had lost over the first couple of months after his parents' murder slowly returning. His gently-rounded cheeks, finally beginning to plump out a bit, reminded Bruce of the boy's youth.

"How'd you sleep," Bruce asked him.

"Good," Dick answered as he picked up his milk. "You look tired."

"You mean 'well', Master Richard, not 'good'," Alfred corrected gently as he refilled Bruce's coffee cup.

Dick rolled his eyes as he drank his milk, and Bruce had to hide his amusement behind a quick sip of coffee; burning his mouth a little in the process.

Despite coming home early from patrol, Bruce hadn't slept more than a few hours.

They had watched the security video last night, and knew that the boy had appeared to deliberately sneak out of the house and disappear into the blind spot Bruce had discovered earlier. What had happened there was still a mystery.

He had been gone for nearly fifteen minutes before he had reappeared apparently in a panic. Dick had run all the way back to the study, although Bruce could find no evidence of anything chasing him. He had been wearing clothing and a light jacket rather than pajamas. Bruce didn't know much about sleepwalking, but could one completely dress themselves and use a flashlight or was Dick actually awake and aware when he had gone out?

"Dick?" Bruce waited until the child finished drinking and he had his full attention. The milk moustache was distracting, and Bruce absentmindedly reached out and wiped the boy's mouth with his thumb. "Did you go out into the garden last night?"

Instead of guilt appearing on the boy's face, Dick gave him a funny look. Confusion? Bruce still didn't know enough about the child to be able to read his facial expressions with complete accuracy. Dick had little in common with the run-of-the-mill street thug.

"Don't you remember?" Dick answered with a question of his own.

What? "Ah, it must have slipped my mind, chum," he said. "Why don't you remind me?"

"I was with you," Dick declared happily.

Bruce blinked. "I meant after that," he clarified; the time after he had read the child a bedtime story.

"I went to sleep," Dick said simply; hopping down from his chair. He paused. "Oh, I'm sorry. May I be excused?"

Bruce and Alfred exchanged a confused glance. Distracted, Bruce waved the boy away, and Dick scampered off in the direction of the gymnasium; eager to start his day on the mats.

"Sleepwalking . . ." Bruce reconsidered this, looking at the older man. "Watching that video, I could have sworn that everything Dick did had been intentional, but you heard him. He honestly believes he was with me last night."

"We definitely will need to keep a closer eye on him tonight," Alfred said as he picked up Dick's breakfast dishes.

"I don't want to make him feel like a prisoner or think that we don't trust him, but if he's truly doing these things in his sleep, we don't know what kind of trouble he might get into," Bruce agreed, reluctantly.

"Are you still going out to look for animal tracks after this?"

Bruce looked out at the weather with disgust. "It couldn't hurt to at least do a cursory inspection of the area."

The strip of lawn that separated the maze from the tree line offered no clues. The springy grass, although winter brown, didn't retain footprints for more than a few seconds. The leaf-laden ground beneath the trees covered any possible tracks that hadn't been washed away in the deluge of winter storms that had been blowing through Gotham for the last four days.

He was just preparing to return to the house when a bit of color caught Bruce's eye. Caught in a bush was a burgundy-colored napkin that looked suspiciously like the ones Alfred placed out at mealtimes. If it had held anything, the evidence was long since removed.

Picking it up, Bruce carried it back to the house. Despite his ever-growing belief that Alfred's theory was correct; that Dick was dreaming the wolf up and he had been sleepwalking the past three nights; Bruce suspected there was more to this story.

Unfortunately, this mystery was proving to be as daunting as any he chose to pursue as the Batman.

At a quarter til midnight, Dick was dressed and shoving tonight's treats under his jacket. Dinner had consisted of roasted pork tenderloin and Dick, with a masterful sleight of hand, if he did say so, had managed to purloin two entire slices. He had been forced to use a hand towel to wrap them in. Alfred's method of preparation had meant the juicy meat had soaked the napkin he had kept it in. It also meant he had needed to change his clothes again after dinner to avoid smelling like pork himself.

Dick thought that had been behind Bruce's intense interest in him while in his wolf form. He had smelled like food. He couldn't hope that Bruce's affection would stop him from wanting to eat him if Dick ran around smelling like steak or pork.

"Can I be of some assistance, Master Richard?"

Dick had been closing the door to his room when the voice startled him. He spun around to find Alfred looking down at him. Dick blinked in surprise. Alfred was sneaky!

He started to shake his head, but then changed his mind. Bruce had been really hungry last night.

"You scared me!" Dick held his hand over his stomach; mostly to keep his slices of pork from falling out from under his jacket. "Um, I was wondering if I may have a sandwich, Alfred."

The butler tilted his head at him as he considered the request.

Dick wondered if the man was suspicious, but he was reluctant to share with Alfred what he considered to be his and Bruce's secret. It didn't matter if the elder man knew already about Bruce or not; he didn't yet know that Dick shared that knowledge. If he blabbed, Bruce might think that he was untrustworthy and send him away.

To Dick, the world outside of the manor was far scarier than living with a werewolf.

"You ate very well at dinner," Alfred said slowly. "Are you indeed still hungry?"

Dick shrugged his shoulders and looked at the man's shoes. "I'm sorry. Never mind," Dick turned back to his room.

The butler laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Don't apologize for being hungry, young sir. You are still regaining the weight you had lost over the past couple of months. It isn't beyond reason for you to need additional sustenance."

"Huh?" Dick scrunched his nose at the unfamiliar word.

"Sustenance means nourishment," Alfred explained patiently.

Dick frowned and then his expression cleared. "Oh, yeah! I could use some more nourishment, please, Alfred, sir."

The man chuckled lightly and led the way to the kitchen. "Of course, Master Richard. What would you like tonight? I believe I may have a few chocolate chip cookies in the tin. How does that and a glass of milk sound to you?"

Dick trotted to keep up with the butler's long legged stride, although the man had shortened it to accommodate him. He liked cookies, but this snack wasn't for him.

"May I have a sandwich instead?" Dick asked as politely as he knew how.

Alfred seemed surprised by the boy's choice, but he nodded genially. "Of course, you may, young sir. Any particular kind?"

Dick thought about it. Bruce had chosen a ham sandwich when they had first gone to the lake a while back.

"Is ham okay with you?"

"A ham sandwich is quite 'okay' with me," Alfred assured him.

Dick sat for a time at the table in the kitchen, drinking his milk and slipping first one and then the other half of his ham sandwich under his shirt. He left a little bread crust and a few crumbs on the plate in order to convince the man that he had eaten the sandwich.

He slid carefully off of the chair so as not to lose his precious cargo. He had no way to explain why he was hoarding food.

"All done," he announced, and then covered his mouth as he gave a dramatic yawn. "Thank you, Alfred. I'm going to go back to bed now."

"Very good, young sir," Alfred said. But instead of taking the boy's plate, he followed Dick out of the kitchen.

No sneaking out of the study tonight, Dick thought glumly as the butler followed him up the stairs and walked him back to his room.

"Do you need any help getting back into bed," the older man asked him.

"No, thank you," Dick opened the door.

"One moment, Master Richard," Alfred said.

Dick froze, thinking he had been discovered, but Alfred merely walked to a cupboard in the hallway and produced a blanket.

"I couldn't help but notice that you are wearing your jacket inside," Alfred told him. "Here is an extra blanket for your bed. This old house can get rather drafty at times. We wouldn't want you to become chilled now, would we?"

Dick took the blanket, blushing. "Thank you, Alfred."

He felt a little guilty fooling the old man, but he just couldn't explain what he was doing yet; not until Bruce told him it was okay. He entered the room; closing the door behind him.

Dick checked the time as he deposited the blanket on his bed. Twelve-twenty. He was a twenty minutes late. Dick ran over to the window, and sure enough, the wolf was already there waiting on him. The light that extended from the house and the occasional break in the cloud cover was just enough to pick out the animal's shape in the darkness.

Determined to keep his promise, Dick ran to his closet and pulled out his backpack. It was the only thing that his social worker had allowed Dick to carry away from his home; it and whatever he could stuff inside.

Alfred had emptied his belongings out into the drawers and his few mementos on his dresser and bedside table. There was more than enough room to put Bruce's snacks. Dick transferred them from under his shirt; grimacing at the crumbs that slid down his pants. He hadn't time to change clothes again. He shoved his flashlight inside with the food. He wouldn't be able to carry it in his hands the way he was going.

Worried about running into the butler again, Dick climbed up onto the window seat and opened the casement window again. He remembered telling Bruce he wouldn't, but he had no other choice. He knew without saying that Alfred would stop him should he try to go out by any other means.

It was even colder tonight than it had been the night before. There was a fine drizzle and the droplets stung his cheeks a little. He caught some in his hand and discovered the rain was beginning to crystalize. Was this snow? He didn't think so, remembering seeing the white fluff in pictures and movies, but he didn't know what to call this particular weather phenomenon. He had never seen freezing rain before.

With extra care, Dick stepped out onto the ledge. He glanced from one side to the other and located a drain pipe fifteen feet to his left. Despite the rain, walking the ledge was easy. He had long ago learned to walk a tightrope; traversing a foot-wide bit of stonework was nothing in comparison.

Dick was cold though. He had planned to grab his winter coat from the closet by the foyer, but Alfred's appearance had interrupted that plan. He would just have to move fast and return quickly, he decided as he bent to determine the strength of the metal shaft. The metal was so cold it felt almost hot to Dick's fingertips. He never understood that oddity. Ignoring the sting, he adjusted his grip and then swung himself around.

He would have preferred to have done this with his bare feet, but the tennis shoes would have to do. They weren't nearly as good at gripping the uneven surface of the stones that made up the manor's outside walls. His feet slipped only once, but his grip on the drain was strong. He shinnied down the side of the building like a spider and pushed off of the wall into a backflip; taking him safely over the shrubbery that lined the wall and camouflaged the pipe.

He landed in the soggy grass with a splash, and his feet and lower legs were soaked by the water spewing from the drainage pipe. He was shivering now. He would definitely have to make this quick. If his hands became too numb, Dick would never be able to make the climb back up to his room. He shuddered to think what Alfred would think if Dick was forced to knock on the door to get back inside.

He sprinted toward the edge of the hedgerow maze.

The beeping of the home security system alerted Bruce to the breach. Someone had opened a door or a window, and he had a sneaking suspicion of who it was. He ran for the Bat computer from where he had been restocking the Batmobile's supplies; quickly typing in a command and the Bat computer's massive screen switched from the files that he had been scanning earlier that evening to the manor's security system.

Not the study door as he had expected, but Dick's window again.

Since he hadn't gone out on patrol, Bruce didn't need to bother changing out of his Bat suit before heading up the steps; taking two at a time. He wore a pair of khakis and heavy, cream-colored sweater that assisted in warding off the chill of the cave. He didn't hesitate at the clock, but moved swiftly through the study and into the hall.

"Alfred," he called.

The older man came out of the kitchen where he was cleaning up from the young master's midnight meal.

"What's happened, sir," Alfred asked, hurrying to keep up as he followed Bruce up the stairs.

"Dick's window was opened a few minutes ago," he told him.

Alfred looked surprised. "I had only just left the boy a few minutes ago. He had come downstairs dressed and in his red jacket. He was awake and oriented then. In fact, he had asked for a snack."

Bruce frowned. "Could he have had time to fall asleep so quickly?"

"I cannot say," Alfred admitted ruefully. "He had been yawning as he returned to his room."

Bruce glanced over at the older man keeping pace with him down the long hallway. "You said he was dressed and wore a jacket." At Alfred's confirmation, Bruce wondered aloud. "Could he be slipping outside purposely, and not sleepwalking at all?"

"Good heavens, I cannot imagine the boy would go outside in this sort of weather without an excellent reason," the butler exclaimed as they came upon Dick's door.

Bruce didn't hesitate. Worry had him barging into the room without the courtesy of a knock. He didn't know what to expect, but there was a knot of ice forming in his stomach. Years of being Batman had taught him to never ignore the premonitions that came from his gut. He didn't now, either.

He stumbled to a halt at the sight of an empty bed. His eyes immediately sought out the window as a cutting breeze swept over them. The casement window was wide open; as far as it could go. He didn't even need to look to know that the room was vacant; its one occupant gone!

Fear sent adrenaline shooting through his veins in an icy flow that made the freezing temperature in the room warm by comparison.

"Dick!" Bruce ran toward the window.

"Dear God," Alfred gasped behind him. "Please, tell me that he didn't . . ."

The older man couldn't finish the sentence. Bruce couldn't blame him. He clasped the sill and leaned out; the sting of sleet not even registering as he forced reluctant eyes to scan the patio below for signs of a small, broken body.

"I-I can't see well," he stammered. "Too many shadows where a small shape could hide, but I . . ." Bruce narrowed his eyes. "I don't think he's there. I don't think he fell."

"He's not in the bathroom," Alfred announced from behind him. The sound of a door snapping shut and another opening drifted to him

"Master Bruce!"

The sharpness of Alfred's voice had him spinning; hopeful that the butler had somehow located the boy.

"His backpack is missing," Alfred was frowning as he looked into Dick's walk-in closet. The older man moved briskly to the dresser and began opening drawers. His expression shifted from intensity to puzzlement. "Nothing is missing, however. If he ran away, he didn't take any of his clothes with him."

Bruce glanced at the mussed bed and spotted the stuffed, felt elephant that they knew the child adored. There was no way Dick would have voluntarily left the precious toy behind. It and a lone picture of him with his parents were just about the only sentimental items that the boy had retained after CPS had snatched him from the only home he had ever known. His eyes found the 5x7 framed photograph still standing in its place of honor on the bedside table.

A frightening thought speared him through his heart.

"Zucco . . .?" Bruce gasped. "Certainly we would have been alerted by the motion sensors had one of his men entered the property! It isn't possible . . ."

Alfred agreed. "You are quite correct, sir. It would be impossible."

"Then where the hell is he?" Bruce yelled. He turned back to the window. Had he missed something?

As he approached the window the second time his eyes scanned the tree line; automatically searching out the place that the boy had claimed to have seen the wolf from his dreams. Movement brought his gaze slicing back. He frowned as he stared in disbelief.

The storm's clouds disguised the outskirts of the gardens and the maze beyond in varying shades of darkness. But he could see it . . . barely. With the bit of starlight that broke through the cloud cover, and the brightness that came from the manor's windows; it was just enough to reflect off of the structures that edged the outer reaches of the landscaping. The shape was unmistakable, even in the inky shadows.

A wolf . . .

A big, black wolf!

Dick hadn't been dreaming it. The animal was far too large to be a dog, even a large breed. It seemed impossible, but the proof was right there! How could such a large beast have gotten onto the property without anyone being alerted to its presence?

Before he could move or even announce to Alfred his discovery, a slice of light suddenly cut the darkness and illuminated the animal as another small shape emerged from behind the tall hedgerow walls that made up the maze; the all-too familiar shape of a child. Bruce's eyes widened in horror!

No! Dear God! "What the hell is he doing?!"

The journey through the house was too far; it would take too long. Bruce glanced out to the side. The boy was a circus aerial acrobat, for God's sake! How could Bruce have forgotten that? He had to have found a way down from his window. A second was all it took for Bruce to spot the drain pipe. He immediately began to climb through the window and onto the ledge.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred leaned out the window in shock. "What are you doing?"

"He wasn't dreaming, Alfred!" Bruce barked over his shoulder.

He couldn't shift his attention. He wasn't in his Bat gear at the moment and his loafers weren't made for gripping wet, slippery ledges. His feet were nearly as wide as the damned ledge! He pressed his back against the stone wall as he worked his way to the pipe; its rough edges snagging at the knitted fibers of his sweater.

He gripped the pipe in one hand and prayed it was secure enough to bear his weight. He swung around and dangled for a moment as his loafers struggled to find purchase. Dick's tennis shoes would have managed a fair bit better than the footwear Bruce currently sported. He used his upper body strength to move down the side of the building. When he was at a more reasonable height, Bruce kicked off of the wall; landing on the lawn in a crouch.

He didn't pause, but took off toward the grassy corridor that separated the maze from the surrounding woods. He slipped as he rounded one corner; going down on one knee, his shoes unable to provide him the traction he needed. Without a thought, Bruce kicked off the offending footwear and ran ahead with naught but socks; ignoring the freezing wet that instantly enveloped his feet.

The going was still slippery, but it was better without the slick soles of the shoes slowing him down.

"Hang on, Dickie! I'm coming," Bruce gasped as he ran flat out.

Bruce stood up as Dick rounded the corner. It tilted its head as it eyed its visitor. It bared its teeth momentarily, causing Dick to halt in caution.

"Wh-What's the m-matter," Dick said to the wolf with chattering teeth. "Y-You remem-member m-me!"

As if it did, the wolf's hackles lowered and it stepped forward; its nose twitching.

Dick laughed nervously. "You remem-member me b-bringing you f-food, d-don't you?"

Bruce's blue eyes flashed silver as the beam of the flashlight reflected back at the boy. It looked at him interested. It took another couple of steps in Dick's direction. Dick took another couple of steps closer as well. He needed to be close enough to toss Bruce's treats to him without doing an impression of a baseball pitcher.

Slowly, cautiously, Dick slid his backpack from his shoulders and lowered it to the ground in front of him. The wolf's eyes were watching his every move intently. Its nose stretched out as the scent of pork reached it despite the backpack and the wintry wind that whipped around them and whistled in the trees forlornly.

Dick hurried to unzip the backpack and jerked the towel a couple of times to free up the slices of tenderloin. He picked one of the slices up and held it out to the wolf.

"You liked th-this, d-didn't you?" Dick smiled and tossed the meat toward the beast.

It watched him as it closed the distance between it and its treat. It sniffed the meat cautiously, obviously unused to the smells of the seasoning. It bit into the piece of pork and put a massive paw on top of the tenderloin in order to tear a chunk off. It seemed to toss the bite back and swallow it whole. The wolf then made quick work of the rest of the slice.

When it was finished, it looked up at the boy in front of it. Dick had taken another couple of steps closer as it had eaten the food. It stared at him and sniffed the air.

Dick grinned despite how hard his teeth were chattering. "It was g-g-good, w-wasn't it? Alf-f-fred is a g-good c-cook, isn't h-he?"

It tilted its head, contemplating the small being in front of it. It seemed curious that the child in front of it didn't appear afraid of it. It glanced at the backpack that was dangling at Dick's side. It licked it muzzle.

Dick giggled. It sounded funny while he was shivering. He reached inside the backpack. His hand found half of his ham sandwich next. He held it out in front of him instead of tossing it this time. The wolf took another step forward. Its eyes went from Dick's face to the sandwich in his hand.

"N-not t-t-too t-trusting, are you?" Dick stammered.

He tossed the sandwich only half the distance between them in attempt to coax the animal a bit closer. Dick really, really wanted to pet Bruce even though he knew his guardian would feel cold and wet. Dick could see bits of ice caught in Bruce's fur.

The wolf moved to the sandwich without hesitation this time. It scarfed down the bit of sandwich in one motion. It looked up as if waiting for more.

Dick reached in and brought out the other half of the sandwich. He held it out in front of him again.

"C-come on, B-B-Bruce," Dick cajoled the animal. "Y-You let m-me h-hug you j-just the other d-d-day. I t-told you th-that I wouldn't t-tell anyone your s-secret. I p-p-promised!"

Bruce held its nose out and sniffed at the sandwich in the boy's hand. It was so close now that its nose could almost touched the sliced ham. Dick smiled. He jiggled the sandwich that was quickly becoming soggy in the icy rain.

Those eyes moved over Dick's face. The shiver that caught the boy could only be partly blamed on the weather. The wildness made his guardian's eyes seem foreign.

It moved so fast that Dick almost didn't register the movement. One second he was holding the sandwich and the next the wolf was tossing it down.

Dick's breath caught. He had felt the briefest touch of fur and the slightest graze of teeth over his fingers. He was so cold, he was a bit surprised that he felt anything at all. The light from his flashlight caught a bit of color and Dick frowned as he looked at his hand.

What he thought was only a graze of teeth was apparently a bit more than that as Dick stared at the blood staining his fingertips. He held the hand closer to his face. It wasn't much, but Bruce's teeth had nipped the ends of two of his fingers. The cold had kept him from feeling the pain.

"It's o-okay," the boy said quietly. "You d-didn't m-mean it. It w-was an ac-cident."

When he looked up, the wolf was standing directly in front of him. Dick's eyes widened as it pressed its nose into his jacket, sniffing him. It moved up to his face and neck; breathing in the boy's scent.

Dick held very still; his heart was pounding again since rounding the corner of the maze and coming face to face with his guardian in werewolf form. The wolf's breath ruffled his damp hair as its nose pushed the hood from his head. Dick blinked, and then seemed to come to himself. He wasn't in danger . . .

This was Bruce! This was his guardian! Bruce wouldn't hurt him; at least, not on purpose.

He raised his hand up and gently touched fur of Bruce's neck as the wolf snuffled him. It was cold and wet as he knew it would be, but the fur was also coarse. His fingers dove deeper into the thick hide and he felt the soft undercoat beneath the longer hair of the outercoat. It was warm and caused his fingertips to tingle with the sensation.

Bruce stopped sniffing him to dip his head toward the backpack.

Dick laughed; pulling the backpack away from the wolf's muzzle and into his arms.

"Y-you smell th-the other p-piece of p-p-pork," he teased. "O-Okay. H-Hang on." He reached into the bag as the wolf stepped back as if in anticipation.

Suddenly, the wolf's hackles raised and a deep, terrifying growl rose from its throat. Startled, Dick's head jerked up, but Bruce wasn't looking at him. Its silvery-blue eyes was staring hard behind him.

Dick gulped and moved over out the animal's way.

He could hear the sound of running feet now. Someone was coming, and they were moving fast! His eyes widened as he remembered Alfred.

Oh no! How long had he been gone? Being with Bruce had been amazing and he had lost track of time. He had even forgotten the rain and the wind for a few minutes!

He placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. He was afraid that he was about to witness his guardian attack and maul Alfred; sure that the butler had discovered him missing and come looking for him.

Heavy breathing . . . Panting, and then a large figure rounded the corner and skidded to a halt; too big to be Alfred. Dick's flashlight had been forgotten in his other hand, but the light that extended beyond the boundaries of its beam was enough to allow Dick to suddenly recognize the intruder.

His mouth dropped open and Dick jerked his hand back from the wolf's shoulder.

"B-Bruce?!"

Dick shot a glance at the enraged wild animal beside him that was currently glaring at his guardian; growling so deeply and loudly that Dick could feel the rumbling vibrations in his chest. He looked at his guardian in shock!

"B-B-But I th-thought . . ."

"Dick," Bruce's voice was calm and soft. "Very slowly, I need you to step away from the wolf."

Bruce almost lost his footing rounding that last corner. He had been preparing himself for a lot of things, including the necessity of having to take down a wild wolf barehanded, but not for what he found. His terror hadn't decreased, but disbelief was now added to it.

Dick, standing beside the wolf with one hand buried in its fur. The wolf was growling and baring its teeth, but not at the child beside it. No, it growled at him. Dickie was gaping in shock; looking first at the wolf and then at Bruce and then back at the wolf.

"B-Bruce?!" Dick's teeth were chattering from the cold. "B-B-But I th-thought . . ."

Bruce clenched his jaw to prevent his own teeth from clacking together. He took a deep breath. He needed to remain calm; not make any sudden moves.

"Dick," he spoke softly so as not to alarm the animal into attacking. "Very slowly, I need you to step away from the wolf."

He watched the boy swallow; his eyes darting to the angry wolf as he took one step away. So far, so good. The wolf's entire attention remained on Bruce. Dick took another step and then another.

"Alright," Bruce told him; keeping the beast in his sight, but avoiding direct eye contact. He wasn't here to challenge the wolf unless it became aggressive . . . Or more aggressive. "Now then, begin making your way over to me . . . Slowly," he reminded the boy.

Dick managed about three steps before the wolf's attention shifted to the boy. Fear stabbed at him, and Bruce stepped forward assertively. The animal's head whipped around and its head dipped low; its ears flattened and its tail lowered stiff and straight. The volume of its growl grew.

Dick stood frozen in between them; his gaze shooting first to one and then to the other. His shivering was violent, and although it was freezing outside; the sleet was becoming more crystalized and flakes of snow were interspersed throughout, Bruce suspected that part of it was from fear. A thousand questions had bombarded his mind on his mad race to get to the boy before something unbearable could happen, but now . . . His mind was a blank, but for one thought. To get Dick away from the wolf.

"Easy . . ." He wasn't certain at this point who he was speaking to; the wolf, Dick, or himself. "Begin sliding a foot forward and easing your way towards me."

He could see the child's obedience in his periphery. Bruce held the wolf's gaze for a long moment before once again lowering his eyes in submission. Were it to become a fight, Bruce didn't hold out a lot of hope that he could prevail. This beast's head was nearly even with his chest.

But Dick was counting on him.

Bruce clenched his jaw; this time in determination. He would prevail because there was simply no other choice. He couldn't be certain that Dick would know enough run away should he have to battle the wolf. If the boy remained, whether through fear or misplaced loyalty, he could be injured or killed. Bruce would have no choice in that case, but to somehow kill the animal.

Dick was nearly to him. Bruce reached out his arm towards him. The wolf snarled and stepped forward aggressively. Bruce froze, but kept his arm extended toward the boy.

Dick glanced back at the wolf; biting his lip. His eyes widened as if a thought suddenly came to him. Abruptly, he shoved his hand back into the backpack.

"It's o-okay," the boy crooned to the animal. "I s-still have y-your t-treat right h-here!" He pulled out what Bruce recognized as a slice of pork tenderloin Alfred had served them for dinner. "Th-Thanks for n-not eating m-me! H-Here you g-go!"

Dick threw the pork so that it landed right between the wolf's front paws. The wolf stepped back and then lowered its head to sniff the meat in front of it without looking away. Recognizing the scent of the first morsel the boy had fed it, the wolf dipped its head and snatched to food in its jaws.

Dick flew at Bruce and he quickly scooped the child up in his arms. The wolf was consuming the pork; its attention momentarily diverted.

Clutching the child to his chest, Bruce spun on his heel and ran.

REACTIONS?

Come on . . . You have to have some kind of thoughts or reactions to that! Let me hear them! Please? It is my only true joy in life.

Wow! That sounded pathetic, didn't it? LOL! Okay, not my only joy, but a good part of it.