Just Right | Serial Fiction | Noir | Noir Fiction | Dark Fairy Tale
Just right (Part 8)
Ivan: Wolves
I sleep sitting up. I always have. No more than two or three hours.
I think back to the Siberian nights, Petyr and Angelina and myself. I sit up, while they huddle under the blankets. The northern lights glow in the frosted window, lighting up the narrow room and the stacked beds. The wolves are howling out in the snow, and my father’s snore through the thin wall shows his level of concern.
We huddle together for warmth, for comfort, but nothing satisfies. Nothing will satisfy the needs of the pack except the blood of an animal. Not even the night light that Mother Nature has blessed us, cursed us with. We don’t dare press our faces up against the windows and peer out over the field of snow to the tree line.
Yellow eyes are there, staring back at us. We know they’re there. They know we’re here. The wind moans. The shack trembles. Another…
