Spring 1844 – Running on Paws of Flame

Brother Adler’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. “What … was … that beast?” he said. “Some sort of hell hound?” His eyes widened at the implication. 

Father’s smile was grim and showed many sharp teeth. He said, “No, not a hound. A wolf. A hound would be a simpler thing. Wolves travel in packs.”