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XVIII. The wolf pup

Vladimir

We follow the pup, Răzvan, in the forest. The thick snow crunches under our feet, and every time I breathe, I can see my respiration in the cold December weather. We make small talk while we walk. I ask the pup how old he is, and I tell him my name. He is intelligent and friendly.

The Baciu Forest is mostly quiet, and I can understand why humans think it is cursed.

“How much further?” Rose asks after we walk a while.

“We are close,” the young pup says.

Close to the lake, where William and I faced the rogue, Răzvan, stops.

“I left the wolf pup in that tree hollow,” he says and points to an old tree that has a hollow at the bottom.

And he goes to the hollow and retrieves a small wolf pup with grey and white fur. The tiny wold pup shivers with cold and looks to snuggle in the arms of Răzvan.

“May I see it?&r
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