• White gods,
    White gods,
    White wolf gods of the winter,
    Running through the snow
    Power over everything
    In the starkness of winter.
    Life and death
    Who lives
    Who dies
    Who is crazy~
    All is decided by the
    White wolf gods of the winter...


    "You see that, Shiro? Those are the white wolves your mother and I named you for. The gods of winter, it is within their power to take away and permit life during the coldest times. Shirokami."
    My father smiled at me we silently followed the wolves through the woods as they chased after a frightened caribou, leaving nothing but our footprints in the snow and human scent to betray our presence.
    A single wolf ran by us, eager to join in the chase. Chuckling softly, my father said, "that one is but a child. Eager and enthusiastic to take on his duties. Much like you, Shiro. Remarkably responsible for your 14 years."
    We both laughed as we ran silently in the direction that the wolves were travelling, weaving gracefully past the trees and jumping over rocks like deer.
    Suddenly, my heart skipped a beat as we climbed over a giant boulder, slid down the icy surface, and landed yards from the pack of wolves, muzzles bloody from their fresh kill.
    My father and I froze in our tracks as one. Our hearts beat tattoos on our ribs as the wolves looked up and watched us, pure white fur dyed a bright crimson, a color that stood out in the harsh white landscape.
    "Don't make any sudden movements. Back away slowly, Shiro," my father whispered.
    We took one step back, then another. Our backs were pressed up against the boulder and Father slowly knelt down to hoist me over the icy rock when the wolves began to snarl and growl.
    Suddenly, the young wolf we had seen earlier jumped forward, racing for my throat. My eyes dilated in fear as I saw the wolf's muzzle open, revealing shining silver teeth.
    Bang.
    The gunshot rang in my ears long after it hit its target. I saw the wolf blown back as if hitting an invisible wall, then fall and twitch at my feet. The snow around its head was rapidly turning a bright red.
    The other wolves, as if furious for their lost brethren, charged at the two of us.
    "Run!"
    My father quickly hoisted me over the rock and leaped over, dropping his rifle. We ran back the way we came, following our footsteps. Something white floated down and clung to my nose. It was cold and wet. Looking up at the sky, it had grown dark and little specks of white had began to appear.
    "Snow," I thought with a curse. "It will erase our way home!"
    My father glanced back and increased his speed. "The wolves!" he exclaimed. "They are not far behind!" Spying a suitable tree, he quickly changed direction and ran for it.
    "Here!" he yelled, putting his hands down so he could give me a boost. "Go! Climb the tree! I'll be right behind you!"
    I climbed about 10 feet up, then extended my hand down, perching in a thick branch.
    "Father! Quick! Grab my hand!"
    He had already begun to scale the tree when the wolves appeared, swarming over the snow, growling like demons. My father quickly grabbed my hand and I began to pull him up onto the branch.
    Just as I had a firm hold on his arm, one wolf suddenly gave an enormous leap and sunk its teeth into my father's calf, pulling him down with its body weight.
    "No!" I heard myself howl as my father's face contracted in pain and he bit back the scream he had almost let out.
    The wolf had given the pack enough time for them to catch on to my father's shoe and leg, mangling them beyond repair. I pulled at his arm in vain as I watched his blood gush onto the snow-covered ground, and jerked as I heard my father scream in pain. I felt myself slide down the tree, its limbs icy and numbing.
    "Shiro. Let go." My father's voice was oddly calm, revealing nothing of the pain he felt.
    "What? Never!" I cried, trying desperately to pull him back onto the branch besides me.
    "Shiro. If you don't let go, the wolves'll get you too."
    "I don't care!" I screamed, bursting into tears. "If you die, Mom will be heartbroken and soon I'll be alone in the world! I might as well die!" I felt so arrogantly selfish for bein ght eone who was hysterical and screaming, instead of my brave father who was literally having his leg chewed off. With a chill, I slid even farther down the tree.
    "Shiro..." my father whispered, one last time. "It is not your time, child. The White Gods have come for me, not you."
    His hand loosened from my iron grip, and I was left sitting on the branch of the tree with only a woolen mitten in my hand, eyes open in shock.
    It was as though I had gone deaf and dumb. I watched as my father was dragged beneath the fur and sharp teeth of the wolves, and how his blood stained the white snow, forming a raw scar in the pristine whiteness. I felt his blood splatter across my face. I watched his lips form one last phrase.
    I. Love. You.
    Then my world shattered and I screamed, loud and bonechilling, before everything went black and my forehead made contact with the branch.

    Somewhere in the darkness, I made out a figure, walking slowly towards me. "Who are you? Who's there?" I tried to ask, but my lips would not move, would not form the words.
    As the figure drew closer, I saw that it was my father.
    Suddenly, I could move again, and I ran towards him, hugging him tightly.
    "Papa!" I cried, using the term from my childhood.
    But he was cold, colder than the snow, colder than the bitterest wind. I looked up, and his face had no emotion. He detached himself from my arms and walked away. I had no strength to follow.
    "Papa...? Papa! Papa! Come back!"

    "Hey! Wake up!"
    Someone's voice drifted into my consciousness, and I felt warmth spreading slowly from the tips of my toes into my fingers into my nose. Opening my eyes slowly, I saw the face of a middle-aged woman hovering above me, looking concerned.
    "Oh, thank goodness you're alive! I was so frightened when Avion brought back a frozen, bloodspattered girl from the woods! I thought you were dead, but he said you still had a pulse!"
    I tried to open my mouth, speak my thanks, but all that came out was a parched croaking.
    Quickly, the woman held a pitcher of water to my cracked and bloody lips and I gulped hungrily, savoring each drop of water.
    Clearing my throat, I said hoarsely, "Thank you for saving me. What is the day?"
    "Ah, it is the twenty-first of December."
    "The twenty-first?" I asked in surprise. "That means I've been out for 3 days!"
    "Child, we only found you today. It's a wonder you've survived that long! And Avion here says that there was a very large and scary pool of blood beneath your tree. Avion, come here."
    A boy shyly edges into the room, and I see him nod in greeting. He seems to be about my age, probably older. "Hello."
    I nod back. "Hello."
    Looking down at my hands, I think to myself of the last memories I had before I passed out, and find that I can relive them with bitter clearness. Remembering the mitten, I ask, "A mitten! I had a mitten in my hand! Do you know where it is?"
    "A mitten?" Avion and his mother look confused. "There wasn't any mitten when I found you," said Avion slowly.
    "That mitten! It's very important to me! I need to find it! It was my father's and... and.... my father was killed by those wolves..."
    Avion's mother gasps and goes quickly to comfort me.
    "Dear, I'm so sorry! My husband was killed by wolves too! I'm sorry, but we can't allow you to go back into those woods. The white wolves there, they're too dangerous to be approached."
    "But... but..." I stutter at first, then think to myself, "I can go get it when I'm fully recovered and alone."
    "Of course. I understand," I say, pretending to look crestfallen. The woman sighs in relief when she hears me give in.
    "Dear, my name is Lila Briallu. My son is Avion, as you already know, and he is an only child. May we know your name?"
    "Shirokami Vilkai. But you can call me Shiro."

    The week passes slowly. I spend the week recovering from my 'shock,' or so Mrs. Briallu insists I must. Sometimes, Avion will come in and sit by my side, and often we pass long afternoons that way, both of us staring out side as the sun sets and the shadows shift.
    The next week, I can't bear lying in bed one more second, and I jump out at the crack of dawn, dressing in all my clothes and ignoring the bloodsplatters on the front.
    Wandering around, I make it to the barn and sit inside in the hay with the animals. The horse gently noses me for food, and the cat crawls into my lap and falls asleep. Before long, someone wanders into the barn and discovers me sleeping in the hay.
    "Hey. Wake up. You can't sleep here."
    I open my eyes blearily to see Avion standing above me with a pitchfork.
    "What?"
    "You can't stay here," he says. "I have to shovel the hay and feed the livestock."
    "Oh. Alright."
    I wander out of the barn and I feel Avion's curious gaze on my back. "Probably thinks I'm crazy."
    Somehow, my feet find my way back to the house and I find Mrs. Briallu in the kitchen, brewing up a thick stew.
    "Mrs. Briallu?"
    "Yes, dear?"
    "Do you have anything to read?"
    "Let's see... well, I do have these old newspapers. Mind you, they're rather old. They're the only things we get from town."
    "Thanks, that's great, Mrs. Briallu. I'm just going to borrow them."
    So I retire to the bed with the stack of newspapers, losing myself in the issues of the outside world that have absolutely nothing to do with me.
    I scan through the pages of one edition from five years ago, looking for anything of interest. I flip to the obituaries and a single word catches my eye.
    "Vilkai," I think out loud. "Must be a coincidence. But then again, it's not a very common name."
    I read the entire entry out loud.
    "Kellyn Vilkai. 38 at death. Tuberculosis. Father to Shirokami and husband to Arla Vilkai. Died March 10th."
    "What?" I think to myself. "T-that's impossible! I hate to remember, but I clearly saw the wolves... just a week ago..."
    Suddenly, a thought pops into my head. "The mitten! If I can find the mitten, then I can prove that this is wrong!" I think, not wanting to admit the doubt in my head.
    I run back outside, heading into the forest. After about a hour of wandering, I find the same boulder that we had climbed over, and backtrack to the tree.
    I dig at the base through the snow with my bare hands, searching for the mitten.
    "Where is it? Where is it?"
    A voice suddenly speaks up from behind me. "What are you looking for?"
    I spin around and see Avion. "You followed me here?!"
    "Well of course. Didn't want you getting lost. So, what are you looking for? That mitten, I told you, there was no mitten when I found you."
    "Liar! There has to be!"
    I dig harder and faster into the ground, and Avion tries to stop me.
    "Stop!"
    "There's no mitten!"
    "Yes, there is! I--"
    Suddenly, growls sound from behind us, the same growls I hear in my nightmares. Turning around slowly, we see a pack of white wolves. I swear they are the same ones that killed my father.
    "Climb!"
    Avion hoists me up into the tree, and I feel a shiver as I realize it is the exact same situation as... as what? What is it the same as?
    When I try to find the memory that is exactly the same as the one I am living now, I don't find a memory, not even a block. I simply find nothing.
    "It... it was all a dream?"
    My head spins and I feel myself slip off the icy tree branch and fall onto the snow. The impact knocks the air from me. I see Avion frantically trying to get me up, then he surrenders and climbs the tree by himself.
    I feel nothing as the wolves swarm over me and tear into me with their sharp teeth.

    White gods,
    White gods,
    White wolf gods of the winter,
    Running through the snow
    Power over everything
    In the starkness of winter.
    Life and death
    Who lives
    Who dies
    Who is crazy~
    All is decided by the
    White wolf gods of the winter...