The Wolf Came on Christmas (Johanna and Alexander) novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91-1

However, our pilgrimage had not yet ended.

In fact, it had only just begun:

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“This place isn’t safe, Lai,” Rex declared. “We’re too easy a target. Let’s go somewhere else- we need a roof.”

“Where the hell do you want to go, Rex?” Alexander roared, his voice still sounding very thick and affected, furious. “Those filthy animals blew Johanna’s house into the air. Where the fuck do you expect us to go now? We can’t go down to town like this, and let me remind you

that if not like this, then naked.”

He gestured with his snout, pointing at his colleague’s gallant semi-animal figure.

Andre turned his head inside the hood to look at Rex.

“What about the sawmill?” Nika was heard saying softly. “It’s three times closer than the city.

“1

She approached us, still brandishing the rifle as if it were her favorite stuffed animal. She shot me a look I didn’t know how to interpret; I suppose she didn’t like the fact that I was taking refuge in the “alpha” with such familiarity. I stepped aside, since I was wearing the jacket; as long as I kept moving, I wouldn’t feel cold again. So I stood up and began walking, arms crossed.

“It’s true, it could work,” I commented. “It’s not very far, if we’re where I think we are. We just have to retrace our steps and go up, toward the stream and the road.”

Agent Aguilera liked the idea very much, because he raised his ears and nodded.

“Now that sounds better than waiting for those shit cats to catch us out here. And probably, if we have a little bit of luck, there might be a phone working there-who knows? All I need is a line to call for a helicopter to get us out of this place,” he concluded, scratching one of the wounds Álvaro had left on his chest with some disdain, as if he didn’t care. “Night can’t catch us out in the open-don’t forget those sons of bitches can see in the dark ten times better than Toshi’s cameras. And you might be doing just fine like that in this weather, but I’m freezing; I don’t have your fur, friend.”

Honestly, it seemed remarkable to me that Alexander accepted the suggestion so easily. What none of us suspected at the time was that he was already working on his revenge.

We set off knowing we would have to retrace the path toward my house and pass by there in

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order to reach the sawmill. Alexander wrapped his son in my coat and the other spare jacket and carried him in his arms; he wouldn’t allow him to walk barefoot in the snow. I took Andre’s wet clothes and stored them in the backpack, thinking about what to do to dry them.

Rex walked ahead of us and Nika behind, and I tried to stay close to Alexander, the two of us in the middle of the small caravan. I had the chance to take a good look at the colors of the supposed “beta.” Agent Aguilera’s fur was thick but not as long as Alexander’s; he had a dark gray stripe that ran down between his ears (large and padded ears, with reddish fur) through the nape, the back, and the length of the tail, which was quite bushy and cream-colored on one side. The rest of his fur, from the shoulders down toward the arms and hands, ranged in terracotta and brick brown tones, with more grayish streaks and others more whitish in harmonious, elegant combinations over his broad shoulders and back.

That didn’t change the fact that his fur wasn’t dark enough to hide the bloodstains from the battle with Álvaro a few minutes ago (or was it almost an hour already? It became

impossible for me to keep track of time). I realized why he might complain a bit about the cold; on closer inspection I noticed Alexander’s fur was even thicker, almost like warm wool. I couldn’t help thinking that sled dogs had that kind of fluffy coat.

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Chapter 91-2

And that made sense, actually. If Ricardo Aguilera was one of the Mexican Reds, one of the

seven families Alexander had mentioned when I asked him to tell me about it, it was more

than clear that he didn’t often suffer that kind of cold.

Behind us, Nika let out a humorless laugh.

“Sure, kid, they don’t like weapons,” I heard her mutter, and a pang of sorrow struck my stomach. “Fucking sons of bitches.”

Alexander overlooked his subordinate’s outburst and glanced at me sideways, frowning.

“When was that? When the panther entered the house?”

“Yes, it was with the first pistol you gave me.” I swallowed and looked away; I wasn’t in a very good mood to go through an interrogation while I was shivering from cold and hungry. If this was a game for the felines, they would make the most of it. I didn’t want to say anything about what had happened to Hans; Nika was walking behind me with steps that sounded like stomps, and it seemed to me that neither Rex nor Alexander were aware of it. It wasn’t my place to inform them of his death. “Álvaro seemed to know what to do with it even better

than I did.”

“Don’t call him by his name. An animal like him doesn’t deserve to be recognized as a person.

“1

That direct order affected me, but what surprised me more was that it was Alexander who

said it.

Wasn’t he the one who had always fought precisely for that? To be seen as people, and not animals? Hadn’t he been the one who said the cats were people too? I think that, just as it happened to me, Alexander ended up realizing that we were no longer dealing with rational beings-perhaps too late.

Because everything already seemed quite irrational to me, and I had no reason to endure it, right?

Right. This WAS NOT my war. I WAS NOT anyone’s soldier, NOR COULD I do much more to

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help, except protect the children. And yet, there I was. I tightened my grip on the handle of the giant knife from inside the pocket of my coat, and took a deep breath…