This time he did not fight. There was a weak current that swept him slowly away from the hole in the ice. He closed his eyes and waited for the urge to draw breath, inhale water and drown. He spread his arms and lay perfectly still in the water. He heard his blood rush through his veins. He heard his pulse, a rhythm like distant drums. A thudding and throbbing beat that was accelerating and getting louder as if it was approaching him. He startled: something was approaching him. The beat came to an end. He opened his eyes. Through the milky surface of the ice he could see immense paws pressed down on the brittle ice from the gravity above that he in the water did not feel anymore. It took only seconds till the slippery surface shattered and the weight of something enormous pushed him deeper into the lake. He grabbed at it, held fast and tried to get above it. He felt thick fur on his face, the movement of strong muscles through his overcoat and a subtle growl when he wrapped his legs around whatever was carrying him.

 

He woke to the yapping of dogs and human voices cheering them on. With as many hunting parties under his belt as stars in the sky he knew exactly what this was. He tried his lungs, but no sound left his throat. He tried his limbs, but they were stiff with cold. He unhappily thrust his head back into the snow and cursed under the little breath that was left from the effort. The merry sound of the sleds passed and vanished somewhere to his left. After a while he managed to prop himself up on his elbows and looked around. On a flat rock to his left it lay on its elbows perfectly like him. Looking at it he found its coat not exactly white, but a shade or two lighter than an ordinary wolf’s. Plus it was partly matted from mud and slushy snow. Its body frame was impressive; he guessed maybe two to three times the size of a wolf in its prime. The demeanor was calm, almost serene, the only thing showing a sign of life being the eyes. They bore into his that his skull seemed to ache from within. He held the stare nevertheless. After what felt like the coming and going of seasons the Great White Wolf sat up. The sight of this made him realise the absence of something he had subconsciously always expected on his demon. The beast was a bitch. He lay back and shook his head in disbelief. From his left came a soft noise like a snort or a snigger. He looked at her and started to laugh. With a swift movement and a swishing sound she disappeared behind the boulder. Had he not been already soaked to the bone he might have felt an uncommon wetness around his eyes. There he was, tears running down his cheeks, tears of joy after a life of sorrow.