Your Trail of Blood in the Snow

Chapter 3 (Larry)

When I woke up, I was surprised at how light I felt, plus the pain in my skull was still there, static, with no desire to retreat. I took my right hand to where I felt the stab of pain and realized that a bandage was tied around my head, covering the wound. I was lying on a bed of branches and leaves, somewhat cushioned, but a bit uncomfortable. A blanket covered me. I could not move my torso and I was afraid to uncover myself. I had the slight certainty that, if I did, I could see myself without a limb or with a hole in some part of my body.

I regained a little more consciousness. I felt a slight warmth coming from very close by, I took a look and could see a fire burning. That fire was a little far away, but I could still perceive its warmth, and it felt comforting. At one side of the fire was a bag that seemed to be loaded with many things, I could not tell what they were because of the distance that separated us, but I also brushed it off; the least I wanted was to suffer more pain trying to be concerned over unnecessary things.

I was in a den, very large and the smell of dampness was bothersome. It irritated my nose, so much so that I could not stop moving it. I looked at the ceiling for a while trying to recall what had happened to me; it seemed like a terrible nightmare from which I had not yet woken up. I was alone since I could not see anyone else, although I was not entirely sure. In some places of the den an unfathomable darkness reigned, someone could hide there without any problem, and getting up to investigate was not a viable option for the moment. I just had to wait.

From the gap that was the den's entrance, I heard a shrill sound, like a roar, scaring me for a moment, I thought the bird would come to eat me, but I relaxed when I realized that it was a storm (very strong) that produced that noise. Small snowflakes managed to enter through the entrance and melted as they approached the warmth of the fire. I didn't feel cold, maybe it helped to be near the fire or because I was covered by the (very thick) blanket, maybe because I lost that sense of touch or because I was already dead.

I started to cry, all the fear I had at the time of the attack was simmering at the base of my stomach, and it suddenly went up to my throat as if I had something stuck in it. It made it impossible for me to breathe and the only way to get it out was in tears. I was scared, so scared... not because of what had happened to me, but because of the thought of those I loved, my family, Montimer, Richie and Ronnie. I left them alone and they must have been worried. Then I realized that I was also crying because I had lost them, just as I had lost my parents and my grandmother, although I was crying because I knew the feelings, they must have been experiencing... in reality they had lost me.

The storm snapped me out of my thoughts, a blizzard blew in and almost blew out the campfire. If it went out, I would probably die from the cold. It was quite normal for an animal as small as me to die like that, or to die from being eaten, even from a fall from a great height, but nothing like that happened to me. I didn't know why I was alive, lying on a bed of branches and leaves, covered by a thick blanket similar to those found only in the homes of missing humans, next to a campfire, bandaged and alive... alive.

I felt how the tears wet the fur of my cheeks in their course. I felt stunned, disturbed by the terrible irremediable truth, the fate of the weak like me... Montimer always repeated to me that I was not weak, that on the contrary I was as strong as the strongest of all wolves. Remembering that gave me a little encouragement.

Some time passed and the storm seemed that it would not abate all night, at least I thought so. It was very dark inside the den despite the fire that with great difficulty scared away the darkness that hovered and I did not know if it was really night or day. I managed to see several tree roots on the roof of the cave, which meant that I was under a tree. I thought that maybe I was close to where the bird had captured me, not far from the tree where I lived, from Montimer and the children. I tilted my head and tried to sleep as the pain in my body intensified, the cold beginning to flood the den. I tried to shoo it away, but it wouldn't go away; it wanted to grab my body and it got stronger and stronger because the fire was about to go out. I couldn't let it go out, so I tried to get up using my elbows, but I couldn't. I didn't realize that my left arm was in a sling and just trying to move it made me wince from the pain. It was a sharp pain, but at the same time it spread through my fingers, hand, arm and forearm until it reached my shoulder. I decided to try not to move anymore, resigned to the darkness and the perpetual cold, hidden inside a horrible place.