“Woah, easy!” I complain. He slowly approaches me.

“Don’t touch your weapon.” He says, and I hear the fear in his voice. He creeps up and carefully snatches the blade. He’s close enough I can see every detail. I notice his pupils are vertical , not round. And he has cuts and scars all up both arms. And his ears are pointed. The left one is pierced with a black metal ring with strange inscriptions.

Dagger in hand, he backs away from me and sits back in the corner, staring at the knife with a creepy fascination.

“Hey!” I exclaim, “you can’t just take that, you slime ball! That’s mine!” He holds tightly to the knife, glaring at me. I don’t dare walk towards him or try and take it. But now I am ticked off at that creep.

“Listen freak,” I snarl, “you give that back instantly, or I’ll turn you in to BioMod, as the miserable science accident you are!”

His eyes widen and without warning he flicks the blade swiftly across the inside of his wrist, slicing deep. Scarlet blood pours from his veins across the floor. I gasp and run over, falling to my knees next to him. The knife slips from his hand and clatters to the floor. He stares blankly at his bleeding wrist.

“What the heck did you do that for!” I gasp in shock, grabbing his thin wrist and applying pressure to his wound with the palm of my hand. He just sits there mutely watching his blood seeping out from under my hand. I notice all his other scars and feel sick. This guy has some serious mental problems.

“Answer me,” I say firmly, but gently, “why did you just cut yourself?”

He bites his lip, showing long sharp glittery canine teeth.

“I don’t know,” He says quietly, “I had to do it.”

I shake my head. This is gonna be hard. I’m stuck with a suicidal beast/human psychopath who escaped from a bunch of mad scientists.

“Take off your shirt I need something else to put pressure on with.” I tell him urgently.

“But... this is my only clothes...” He says meekly. I wrinkle my nose. Oh gosh. That’s just great. He’s bleeding pretty bad so I quickly grab the dirty blanket from the bed and wrap it tightly around his wrist. I don’t know why I’m helping him.

“Now don’t take that off, whatever you do.” I say firmly, and pick up the knife from the floor. I put it in my holster where he can’t take it and sit down on the creaky cot. The boy sits on the floor staring at his wrist. By now it’s quite dark outside and a single bare lightbulb hanging from the roof amidst a tangle of spider web is the only light for miles.

I debate trying to talk to him again or not. And then I remember what I said to him before he cut himself. Maybe it was my fault. I think I provoked him. I should be careful what I say around him.

At least a whole hour goes by silently, me staring at him and him staring at his bleeding wrist. I get up and approach him cautiously to check his cut. He pulls away from me when I reach out. I slowly sit down next to him and rest my hand gently on his shoulder. After a minute he reluctantly offers his hand to me. I take it gently and slowly unwrap the blanket. The cut looks pretty nasty, but has already stopped bleeding and is almost healed over. He must have enhanced healing abilities.

“You got lucky,” I tell him, “I thought you’d cut a main blood vessel. You would’ve bled to death for sure.”

“No,” He says flatly, “I’ve tried. Heals too quick.” I Look at his face. He’s looking down, not meeting my eyes.

“You’ve tried bleeding to death?” I repeat incredulously. He doesn’t answer me. But the scars and cuts all over his arms do.

I don’t know what to do now. When the storm subsides, do I just leave him? What happens to him if BioMod gets him back? He needs help.

“Hey, surely you have family somewhere.” I ask him. He shakes his head and suddenly bites the the side of his uninjured hand viciously hard, drawing blood. I grab his hand and pull it away.

“Stop doing that!” I half yell at him desperately. It really bothers me to see someone like this.

“How do you have no family?” I question. I feel him struggle weakly in my grasp and he stares at the dagger at my hip. He bites his bottom lip until it bleeds. I guess family is a bad subject. I’ll remember not to bring that up again.

“Please stop hurting yourself.” I beg him, as his lip drips blood. This is such a mess. I don’t know how to stop him. I need to make him calm down and focus on something else. He’s still fixating his gaze on my knife, an odd expression on his face. I’m still holding his hands and I don’t think I’ll let go until he stops looking at my knife.

“Ok,” I begin, “let’s talk, ok? Let’s just have a nice little conversation. Does that sound good?”

He looks at me sullenly and doesn’t reply. But I continue anyways.

“You need a name. You can’t be Alpha 1 forever. Do you know any nice names?”

He says nothing. So I continue.

“Well how about...Bob? No no no forget I said that. Oh heck I’m so bad at this. Help me out! Is Alpha 1 the only thing people ever call you?” He shakes his head and finally answers in resigned voice.

“The worst ones called me

Dog-Eyes.”

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“Dog-Eyes.” He repeats bitterly.

“Why?” I am confused.

He shakes his head, tossing the hair out of his face, revealing his other eye. His eyes are two different colors, one bright blue, the other chocolate brown. It gives his face an almost lopsided, yet perfectly complemented look, stunning and unique.

I am entranced for a moment and suddenly feel weird holding his hands. There is a long and awkward and silence before I remember to talk.

“Oh.” I say, painfully aware of how lame I sound. He tips his head again letting his long bangs fall back down across his brown eye.

He looks upset and has that self destructive look again. I try to distract him quickly.

“Your eyes are the handsomest feature I’ve seen on a guy in a long time,” I assure him, realizing it’s true, “Reminds me of a wolf. You know that fable about the white wolf with the two different eyes? You could be named after the wolf.”

He shrugs, not seeming to care about anything I’m saying.

“What’s the wolf’s name?” He asks without interest.

“Soren.”

He looks away from my knife and seems to be thinking.

“You like that name?” I ask hopefully,“Could I just call you Soren?”

He nods slowly. I’m finally making progress!

Now what. The wind has quieted, I’ll want to leave as soon as the sun rises. What should I do with him? I can’t turn him back to BioMod. I can’t leave him alone. I can’t bring him with me....right? Gosh I don’t know. I guess he could for part of the way. Just until we get to the city, then I’ll find somewhere for him. My eyes are heavy, I haven’t slept a wink in 24 hours. I don’t know how to sleep safely with him here. I look at his face and wonder if he’s tired too. He has dark circles under his eyes and he looks pretty bad.

“Hey. Soren. Aren’t you tired? It’s late. I want to sleep.” I say, still holding both his hands and sitting next to him. He nods.

“Okay. I’m gonna let you go now, ok, but don’t do anything stupid! I’ll be watching you.” I release his hands and stand up. I go to the cot and sit down, watching Soren suspiciously. He flops over onto his side and rolls into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut.

I wonder if he’s skilled enough to take my knife while I sleep. Also I can’t believe I’m considering sleeping with a strange guy right there. For some reason I don't think he’ll try and do anything to me, but you never know. I lay back on the horribly uncomfortable blanket less bed. I keep one hand on the hilt of my knife, and only close one eye.

Soren is laying on the bare floor. I think I see snow blowing through a crack right next to him. I do feel bad for him now.

“Hey. Soren.” I call quietly to him. He lifts his head, looking worried.

“Do you want the bed? I don’t mind.” I offer.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” He says, aghast. “I’m not even worth as much as the blanket.”

“That’s not true,” I say, feeling bad for him, “and if you don’t want to sleep here I’ll force you to, got it?”

He sighs and gets up. He trudges across the room and grudgingly sits on the bed.

“Haven’t you had a bed before?” I ask curiously, and regret it. He makes a miserable face and shakes his head.

“At the lab the best I had was straw. To eat, to sleep in, and for a toilet.” He says it in a monotone, and I see his eyes wander towards the dagger at my hip. I hate how he keeps looking at it.

On sudden impulse, I stand up, unsheathe the knife, open the door, and hurl it into the blank white blizzard. I close up the door tightly and sit back down next to him like nothing happened. He is looking at me with a mix of worry and confusion.

“Why did you do that? What if you need it?” He exclaims.

“ I have my staff.” I say coolly, hoping I won’t regret it later.

Now I can sleep. I get down on the floor to sleep and find it’s freezing and covered in a layer of ice. I take the bloody blanket and spread it on the floor. I don’t want to lay on it and it’s still freezing. Soren is watching me.

“It’s fine,” I assure him, “I don’t mind sleeping here at all.” I lay down to prove it. I shiver all the way to the bone and feel icy air blowing across the floor.

Soren gets off the bed and sits down on the floor.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I can’t do it. I can’t watch you sleep on the floor. You can try to force me to sleep in the bed but I won’t unless you do too.”

I sit up to look at him.

“Well I don’t want to sleep on the floor either.” I assure him, “and I would actually share the bed but I can’t trust you.”

He looks almost like crying.

“It’s not because of you, it would be the same for any guy! You know! I can’t just sleep next to some strange guy.”

“Why?” He says, sounding genuinely confused, “Is it because you hate me?” His voice quivers and his fingers twitch.

“No it’s not that!” I exclaim, “You really can’t think of why guys and girls don’t just share beds?”

He shakes his head sadly. Well then. Maybe he just has no idea. Maybe he was not well educated in the lab. But if he doesn’t even have a clue I guess I have nothing to worry about.

“You know, I think it’s fine to share a bed, actually.” I tell him.

He looks hopeful but scared.

“Really?” He is shivering slightly.

I get on the bed and try to make room for him but it’s a very small bed. I hope this isn’t a bad idea. He very cautiously comes over and sits on the bed.

“You can lay down and sleep,” I tell him, “it’s ok.”

He gingerly lays down, half off the edge of the bed. I turn my back to him and close my eyes. I don’t mean to fall asleep right away, but exhaustion gets the better of me.