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Lucas opens his eyes, aware that he has survived one more day. He thought yesterday would be his last when he hobbled out at daybreak to feed the wolves and fell on the way back. Bob and Bill showed up in time to keep him from freezing to death. They dragged him in the house, put him in dry clothes.
"Stay in bed, Dad. That's all you've got to do."
Twenty-four hours later and they're back, with their wives this time, gathered in the kitchen, mumbling about funeral arrangements, real estate appraisals, and taking the body back to Smithville. Bob opens the door.
"What is it now, Dad?"
"I don't want my body taken back to Smithville. I want to be cremated and have my ashes scattered here in the woods."
"Don't start that again. We're not about to leave you up here in the middle of nowhere."
"But this is the only home I've ever known."
"We'll discuss it later." He starts to close the door.
"Wait."
Bob sighs, holds his eyes closed a full second, but waits.
Lucas manages to sit up in bed and look from the window, feeling the cold air through the pane. A light snowfall settles on the pines, and in an old feeding trough by the shed. His great-grandfather built it for horses, but they're all gone. When its legs rotted away, Lucas' father used it to feed hunting dogs. They, too, are gone. Four years ago, Lucas found another use for it.
"I've got to feed the wolves."
"No. You almost killed yourself yesterday doing that."
"Will you feed them for me? There's dog food in the shed."
"No. Wolves are vicious animals and--"
"They're just trying to survive."
"And, we don't want them around when we have to...sell. Just no. Go back to sleep." He closes the door and grumbles to Bill.
Lucas hears their wives making biting remarks about the condition of the cabin, but finding things they'd like to keep.
The wolves move in by the feeder, see it empty, and look to the shed where the food is kept. They turn their primitive, puzzled gazes to the cabin, where they know Lucas is watching. They whimper and pace, their ribbed coats flecked with snow. Starving, savage beauty.
"Dad!"
Lucas jumps. An hour has passed since he fell asleep.
"We're leaving. We'll be back tomorrow about lunchtime. Your dinner is on the nightstand and there's enough kerosene in the heater until then. Okay?"
Lucas sits up stiffly and looks from the cold pane. It's late afternoon and all the wolves are gone--except the oldest, the first one to come around looking for food. He eyes the cabin with instinctive concern.
"Can you please--?"
Lucas stops when he realizes he's alone, lies back on the bed and listens to Bob and Bill drive away with their wives.
He wakes again at 6:20 a.m. thinking about the wolves coming in to feed. Despite blinding pain, he pushes at the covers and is able to sit up. The room is cold.
He gets his boots on, wraps himself in a heavy flannel jacket and finds his cane. It helps him out of the bedroom but he stumbles in the living room and catches himself on a rickety table. Then the table is sturdy; the cabin is warm and well lit. His mother is standing at the iron range, cracking eggs and frying ham. "Why don't you ever sit down and eat before you go out?"
Then she's gone and the cabin is dark and cold; the table is rickety. Lucas remembers there's something he must do.
He makes it to the front door and pulls it open, only to be punished by a sub-zero wind. As he ventures out on the porch, a dying oak turns green. A familiar dog runs up to it, wags its tail and barks impatiently. Lucas' father appears by the dog, holding two shotguns. "Come on boy, me and Jake have been waiting a half hour."
Then they are gone and the oak is dead. The wind drives sleet through Lucas' clothes, through his skin. He wants to turn back but there's something he must do.
By the time he reaches the shed he is shaking, chattering. The wind feels like ice picks in his ears. He knows if he spends the energy feeding the wolves he might not make it back inside. They'll find his frozen body in the shed and take it back to Smithville.
In the first light of day he sees shadowy forms in the woods, stealing from pine to pine. He understands their nature; they're just trying to survive. They're not vicious, nor their wives.
After near fatal exertion he gets the shed door open and realizes he'll never make it back to the house. The whimpering gets closer. He reaches for the food but it's not where he left it. A search is futile. The bag was taken by Bob and Bill in an attempt to starve away the wolves.
Lucas' head is spinning and his knees are about to give way. He is ready, but there's something he must...
With one last great effort he leaves the safety of the shed and looks out at the wilderness, fragrant and unpeopled. He falls to his knees and notices the trough is high again and the horses are coming in to feed.
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