The world dropped into the bottom of the ocean, growing soundless and still. Alone, Esther huddled in the damp grass, her head on her knees, eyes turned to the pinking border formed by the pines. Any moment, she expected to see the wolf emerge from the darkness-- His white fur lined with silver, the constellations in his eyes and sharpened shards of moon lodged in his gums. For now though, she was the lone dot in the vast expanse of green and black.

As hours passed, the night deepened. An owl hooted in the branches, its guttural ‘Hoooo’ echoing in the woods and deep into her chest.

Esther shivered inside her jacket. Moisture had soaked into her woolen pants thread by thread. Now and then, wind clawed at the curls of her hair, making sure she stayed awake. When her hands began to freeze, she rubbed them and held them close to the heated glass of the lantern, all the while coming up with questions that had no answers.

What if he did not come?

What if he did?

What if he hurt her?

What if he didn’t?

Her nose turned pink at the tip. She swiped at the moisture that had began to drip down the philtrum to her lips. She tasted that salt with a grimace.

Tired of the wait that had began to seem silly and pointless, she caught the handle of the lantern, let go, then caught it again, ready to rise and walk home. The heavy knots in the bottom of her belly though, made her stay.

A blot slowly spread in the corner of her eyes-- Drop of white against a layer of wet black, branching out, growing lines and edges, taking on a familiar shape. Her breath caught in her throat.

The wolf walked slowly, his head lowered, the steps quiet. He was nearing the water. A distance of a few strides away from her, he paused, large and looming.

Esther got to her feet slowly. She curled her fingers tight around the handle of the lamp, making the warm metal sink into her skin. She expected his hackles to rise, stiff and threatening, the mouth to draw back in a snarl, but it did not happen. He stared at her, eyes shining with a green tint in the dark. Then he turned away.

The wolf moved slower than before. He neared the lake and dipped his muzzle into the water, lapping it up. In the silence, the lake folded in gentle ripples. It went on for a while--Esther at a loss for words, the wolf indifferent to her presence, the water chiming.

Then he fell.

His body hit the grass with a quiet thump followed by a pained grunt.

Esther gasped.

She ran towards him. The glow thrown off by the lantern dimmed and brightened. Her hand flitted to her hair, then her mouth, the fingers trembling with cold.

Her head muddled with incoherent thoughts and panic, she stared at his flank which rose and collapsed, rose and collapsed, the air inside pumping out in plumes of breath. She glanced towards the pines, at the path that would take her home.

She neared the wolf.

His eyes half closed, he was watching her. As she crouched by his side, unsure of what she could do, he tried to lift himself but failed. His head came to rest on the grass quietly. She unclasped her clenched hand and forced it to near him. When she did so, he moved his head with a soft growl. Perhaps, he was as frightened of her as she was of him. That gave her a spark of courage.

“I won’t do anything,”Esther said, in a soothing manner, though her voice trembled. Her hand touched the warm skin, the fingers spreading through the rough, damp fur. An uneasy heat soaked into her palm.

“A fever,”she breathed.

He blinked dazedly, half circles of the amber irides showing, then closed his eyes.

Esther set the lantern on the ground and brought both her hands to rest on his belly, gently stroking him. She passed over the ribs, the back of his neck, then carefully touched his paw. Her fingers curled around the pad, thumb passing over the nail that could peel off her skin any moment.

Taking off her scarf, Esther went to the edge of the lake and dipped the cloth inside, letting water darken the lilac pink wool. She squeezed the excess and returned to press the damp wool to his forehead.

“You’ll be fine,”she whispered, her gaze flitting from his eyes to the paws that twitched now and then. “Do you have cuts anywhere?” Carefully, she traced her palm over his skin, searching for broken, infected wounds, but couldn’t find any. “You probably ate something toxic, perhaps some plant or mushroom. I’m not sure, oh, I don’t really know.”

Briefly Esther thought about fetching someone-- Johnny or Lova or even Bethany-- but gave up that idea as soon as it passed her head. She did not have the answers to their rightful questions, and Johnny owned a hunting rifle. She’d seen him use it once on a moose, downing the animal in one ruthless shot.

Esther stayed for an hour more, changing the cloth at regular intervals. The flame of the lantern began to wane. Her eyes grew heavy. They stung when a cold gust swept by. Around her, the forest undulated in waves of green.

The strangeness of the task, the absurdity of her speaking to an animal, the lack of sensible fear being alone in the woods at night, all of it combined into a peaceful numbness inside her. The questions faded away. She focused on nothing but keeping the cloth and the wolf’s forehead damp.

By the time the edges of mountains glowed with pearly jagged lines, the wolf began to breathe a little regularly. She brushed the top of his head. It had grown cooler. While she swayed with lack of sleep, his eyes opened, gleaming bright. He threw off the scarf with a shake of his head and stood up, no longer dizzy even if a bit weak. Esther rose as well, wincing a little. Her joints ached and the small of her back throbbed with pain.

The wolf wandered towards the woods, the white of his body melting with the mounds of snow. At a certain distance, he paused and turned his head to look at her. The whole of her sagged.

The wolf was real.

His skin, flesh, fur, she’d touched all of it and he was warm and alive.

She was not desperate and lonely and unhinged. And he was not a wispy dream.

Esther watched him disappear into the woods. When she was left alone, she picked up the scarf shed on the ground, draped it over her arm and lifted the empty lantern.

She’d found one answer. Now a million more remained.