I was with Jessie, and she laid her head on my shoulder, my nose in her hair.
I was with Dominique, and she was scared, oh she was scared, but I took her face in my hands, my eyes red and violet, and she trembled.
I was with Bambi, and she was pale and tired, dark circles under her eyes, but she was holding a child in her arms, and I kissed his forehead, telling her that he would be loved beyond all else.
I was with a timber wolf, and he snapped and snarled but stopped when I flicked his ear.
Me, me, I was with me, how he saw me, how he loved me, how strong he thought I was, how foolish I could be sometimes, but it didn’t matter to him. He trusted me, he called me his brother, he called me his friend, he said Carter, Carter, they’ll need you, more than you know.
And here, at the end, I was with her.
We were standing in front of the sink, dishes piled high. She laughed and popped a soap bubble in my ear. I (Ox) said, “Mom, I’ve done my best. I’ve done all I can.”
And she said, “I know. I know you have. Just a little more to go. Just a little more and I promise you that you will know peace. I’m so proud of you. There is no one such as you in all the world, and Ox, Ox, Ox, remember? What do you call a lost wolf?” She laughed. “A where-wolf. Oh, that makes me laugh. Oh, that makes me smile.” I took her by the hand and spun her in a circle as the music soared. Her eyes were bright, and she said, “You’re going to make someone very happy someday. And I can’t wait to see it happen.”
“I did,” I told her. “I think I did.”
“Did you? How lovely. How wonderful.”
“You fought. Even at the end.”
“I did. Because I would have done anything for you.”
And there was more, so much more, the images moving quicker and quicker. We were together on Sunday because it was tradition. We were fighting for our lives. We were howling under the full moon. We grieved over those we lost. A pyre burned in the night. A baby was born. Joe and Ox. Gordo and Mark. Robbie and Kelly, and me and Gavin, Dominique and Jessie, Chris and Tanner, Rico and Bambi and Joshua. My mother and my father standing on the porch, watching the tornado spin out on the back of a large, quiet boy.
He said, “A gift. Each of you is a gift. This is what you’ve given me. And I will never forget it.”
The wolves stopped howling.
The doors stopped vibrating.
Silence fell across the clearing.
Oxnard Matheson said, “Just a little farther. Just a little longer. Hold on to me. Hold on to each other. I will see us home.”
We tilted our heads back as one toward the star-struck sky, and the moon pulsed, and I felt it calling to me, singing my name and I—
wolfsong/ravensong/
heartsong/brothersong
I whispered, “Sacrifice.”
I opened my eyes.
We stood near the house. In front of us, the blue house was dark and quiet.
My pack surrounded me.
We were together.
The forest was silent.
Ox said, “It’s almost time.”
Joe blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream. “Was that—”
Ox kissed him fiercely. My brother gripped his arms.