The ceiling above Selphie was white.  She supposed there was a circle on the ceiling.  She’d thought the ceiling looked like a circle when the wolf was howling at it, but now it seemed more like a flower with the corner balconies spreading in a pattern that looked like petals.  Was the circle on the ceiling supposed to be a moon, a sun, a star, a line of infinity that loops across itself forever?

Selphie looked up at the circle of white above her.  Her eyes moved to the first-level balcony when the wolf’s face eclipsed her vision.

“The corpse,” he said calmly.  “It’s gone.”

Selphie rolled over.  “What do you mean it’s gone?  How could you possibly know that?”  Selphie had a hundred more questions she was going to blurt out, but when she sat up and turned, she saw that the ladder she had climbed yesterday was also gone.

Well, it wasn’t gone so much as destroyed.  Obviously, the wolf had tried to climb the ladder and he had broken it to pieces in the process.  The claw marks went all the way to the top.  If he hadn’t made it up to the first-floor balcony, he had definitely been able to get his nose over the edge so he could see what was there.  He had to be telling the truth.  The body was gone.

“Why did you do that?” Selphie asked, staring in wonder.  “It couldn’t have been easy.”

“Don’t think about it,” he advised sagely, giving her a little lick on the forehead.  “The important part is that the body is gone and there is no reason for you to be afraid anymore.”

“Are you sure?  What about the other levels?” Selphie asked, still nervous and worried as she wrung her hands.

The wolf rested on his side on the bed.  “You can stay down here with me if you like, Little Divine One.  I’m quite tired and I could use a nap.  You just woke up, but I bet you could have another nap if you closed your eyes.”

Selphie put her head back on the pillow, but everything was too strange, too upsetting, and then suddenly all right.  Having terror and tranquility side by side made her feel like the tranquility had to be a lie.

Once she was certain the wolf was asleep, she got to her feet and went to the ladder that led to the second balcony.  If she climbed that ladder when she reached the halfway point, she would be able to see for herself whether or not the dead body was still on the first pavilion.  She just had to promise herself to hold onto the rungs.  No matter what, she had to hang onto the rungs.

She put her hands on the ladder.  Then she leaned forward, her chin resting on a rung in front of her.  She breathed.  Her legs were shaking.  Could she really climb the ladder if she was that afraid?

Steeling herself, she started moving upwards, hand over hand.  At the halfway point, fourteen rungs up, she promised herself she would turn around and look over her shoulder.  She’d look to see if the body was still there.  That was what she told herself, but she found that she couldn’t stop moving upward.  It wasn’t the wolf that made her go on.  It was the horror inside herself.  When a person has a sliver under their skin, they have to find a way to remove it.  That means they have to look at the sliver and make a plan.  Ignoring the discomfort will only bring more discomfort.

She had to look and see for herself.

She pulled herself onto the second balcony.  Then carefully, very carefully, she peered over the edge.

The wolf was right.  The corpse was gone.

She stepped back and began doubting herself.  Had she been seeing things?

If Selphie had been making up things to see she certainly would not have made up that sight.

She took a few firm deep breaths before she turned around and saw another unwelcome sight.  In the corner of the room, hanging from a string was a knife.  Not just any knife, it was a knife she was very familiar with.  Unlike the corpse, it was not something she feared anymore.

It had a long blade and a solid hilt like it was expecting to be used for something more than just skinning rabbits.  The handle had finger grooves.  The knife had been well-loved.  Not by her.  It was not her knife.

She took it in her hand and the string it was hanging from snapped in two of its own accord.  Selphie had not pulled on it.  The knife rested in her hand.

It was too large for her to hide, but after what the wolf had done for her to check and see that the corpse was gone, she wanted to reward him by telling him what she found.

With the knife in one hand, she climbed down the ladder.  At the bottom, the wolf was waiting for her, his eyes like twin moons.

“What have you got there, Little Divine One?” he asked with a yawn that belied his awareness.

“This is a knife that used to belong to one of the men at the sawmill.  His name was Brawley.  I stole it from him, but I lost track of it.  I don’t know why it’s here,” Selphie said slowly, wondering if it was a good idea to show such a thing to the wolf.  Maybe he would think she was threatening him.  Maybe he would think their friendship was over.  Maybe they couldn’t be friends, even if they wanted to be.

The wolf looked at it and then at her.  “I’m familiar with that knife.  I’ve seen it before.”

“Really?  When?”

He revolved his ears and lazily yawned again.  “I’d rather not talk about it.  I’d like to think that this place has nothing to do with the place where I used to be.  Isn’t that what you want too?”

Selphie nodded and held it out to him balanced across both her palms.  “What should we do with it?”

“Nothing.  I have claws.  I have teeth.  You don’t really have either of those things.  In defeating a wolf, a human’s best strategy is climbing upward and calling for help.  You’ve climbed, but you haven’t called.  Not the way you’re supposed to call if you want help.  Do you want help?”  His gaze came around and rested on the girl.

“If I called for help, no one would come for me,” she admitted drearily.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a murderer.”