"If the cold doesn't kill you, the wolves will."
NOT A WEREWOLF STORY
Book 1 of 2.
In which an 18-year-old girl flees to Alaska to escape being accused of murder & to uncover what happened to her uncle. Involves two gentle giants.
Completed. :)
Fea...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter 7 | EXCITED BUTTERFLIES
Roan and I have been taking turns silently picking songs for the past 20 minutes. I had only played a few from my phone before I shut it off again, wanting to conserve the battery. He offered to let me charge my tablet and phone through his car phone charger, and I gladly took him up on his offer. Then, the radio was switched on.
I've been steadily flipping through the stations, only stopping on songs I know and when Roan tells me to.
Currently, a song I don't know is playing. Roan had me stop it on this one, so I'm guessing he knows what it is. I don't care to ask what it's called, though, as it's not very good.
"We'll be crossing through to Alaska in a couple of minutes," he tells me.
I nod, feeling a bit of nervousness form in my stomach.
Years after receiving that letter, I'm finally reaching Alaska.
I mean, sure, I'll still have hours to go before I reach my next destination, but Alaska!
Finally!
From then on, I keep my eyes on the road and area around me, looking out the windshield.
Then, I see it. Far up ahead, I see a sign that I can barely read.
'Welcome to Alaska. Historic Alaska Highway. Gateway to the 49th State."
And then...I see the 'UNITED STATES BORDER INSPECTION STATION.'
My hands start to sweat, despite being on the cold side. What if I'm flagged or something? What if I've gotten this far only to fail and be shipped back to a Washington jail?
"Will they need to see our identification papers or anything?" I ask, not knowing if it will be like how it was when I entered Canada.
"Just grab your passport," Roan answers. "And stop sweating, it makes you seem...suspicious."
"Sorry, let me just simply switch off my sweat glands for a second."
He ignores me as we get closer to the inspection station.
I quickly reach behind me and get my passport from my duffle bag.
When we pull up to the station, a male border guard appears and politely asks for us to get out of the truck and move into the office.
We do as he asks, and inside, our fingerprints are scanned, and we have our pictures taken.
The officials are very friendly, asking about how our trip to Canada was.
I'm confused, as I thought there would be a more detailed investigation. But, I don't complain or mention my passport. I simply answer their questions and try to smile as Roan's truck is searched.
