A Wolf’s Heart
BEN 
Ben followed Portia down the stairs on wobbly legs, away from the room with the forest on the wall, away from the rustling of book pages. He wouldn’t have been able to do it alone, but with Portia at his side, he felt just strong enough. When he got to the bottom, he turned around—and realized that his dad hadn’t followed him. A strip of light was still shining out under the door. It was strange, but somehow Ben took comfort in that sight. His dad would always be somewhere, and always be with Ben, or a part of him—even if the two people on the bed had been no more than an echo.
He wiped the tears from his face. How strange—he was exhausted, as if he had been running for miles and miles. At the same time, he felt lighter, as if a burden had been lifted. Why? He hadn’t achieved what he’d set out to do. He wasn’t going to bring his father back. He knew that now. But perhaps it was the knowledge that he had tried everything that helped him finally to let go.
Ben took a deep breath, then he turned his back to the stairs and walked to the door. Portia opened it, and Ben heard her gasp just as he reached her side.
Trefriw had been swallowed by fog. Or rather, it had disappeared as if it had never existed. Ben stared at the white-gray nothingness outside and steadied himself on the doorframe. It was impossible to say whether there was solid ground waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs leading down from his front door—or an abyss.
“Do you know how to get back?” he asked weakly.
Portia pulled a small glass vial from her jacket pocket and clenched it in her fist. “I hope so.” She looked at Ben and smiled, but he could see she was tense and tired. Probably exhausted from everything she had done for him. Ben hunched his shoulders. He wanted to apologize, wanted to tell her that he had never meant to put her in danger—but Portia was already pulling the cork from the vial. A golden liquid glittered at the bottom.
“Ready?” Portia asked.
Ben could only nod.
Portia brought the vial to her mouth and emptied it in one gulp. Her eyes flashed with the same color as the liquid in the vial, and in the next moment, she disappeared in a puff of golden-yellow smoke. When the smoke cleared, a wolf with an ice-gray coat and black-tipped ears stood in Portia’s place.
Ben stared in amazement, but the wolf didn’t waste any time. It nudged Ben with its snout and then started down the steps, before stopping and turning to look at him expectantly. Ben shuddered, picked up the empty vial, and followed the wolf that had once been Portia into the fog.
Ben kept his hand firmly on the wolf’s back for the entire journey. All around them, the fog swirled and danced, twisting itself into bizarre shapes, but the wolf loped determinedly onward. Ben wished he could be as calm. On his way to the Trefriw in the fog, he had been fixated on finding his dad—but now, there was nothing to distract him from his surroundings.
The fog was as thick as ever, but now there were shadows moving in it—tall, slender silhouettes that seemed to approach before disappearing at the last minute. Ben felt as if he was being watched, but told himself it was just his imagination. That was until he noticed the face. It was floating just a few paces to his left, like a mask without a body. Startled, he stumbled into the wolf, which simply lowered its head and kept going. Ben dug his fingers into the wolf’s fur and stared into the fog. The face stayed where it was, its dark, hollow eyes following him. With a great deal of effort, Ben managed to look away and fix his gaze on the fog ahead of them. Then he almost cried out. Another face emerged from the fog ahead of him, and then another behind it. Soon more and more of the shadowy figures could be seen. They were human, or at least humanlike creatures, and they formed what looked like an honor guard on both sides of the pair. Their silhouettes were barely visible in the fog, and yet their long, pale faces were following Ben.
He was ice-cold. Who or what were these figures? What were they waiting for? He moved closer to the wolf and felt that it was shivering. Alarmed, Ben looked down at his companion. The wolf took one more faltering step before coming to a stop and lowering its head to the ground. Ben quickly knelt at its side and put a hand on its head. The wolf gazed up at him with golden eyes, and then convulsed as if in great pain. Golden lightning flashed through its fur. Startled, Ben pulled his hand away. The wolf glowed, then dissolved into glittering smoke and transformed back into Portia.
No sooner had she returned to her human body than she sank to her knees. Ben caught hold of her just as the fog spirits fell onto her like a swarm of furies. Portia let out a hoarse cry and curled up into a ball. Ben wrapped his arms around her protectively. The nightmare creatures glided around and over them like living shadows.
Ben thought his heart would stop from fear. He could feel Portia shaking like a leaf as she whimpered in his arms. Desperately, he looked around. There, between the wafting fog ghosts—a black shadow. Please, let that be the door!
More and more fog spirits surged toward them, eager to touch them. Ben gritted his teeth and got to his feet, pulling Portia up with him.
“Go away!” he yelled at the fog ghosts. They flew off, only to turn and fall on Portia again a moment later. With all her weight on his shoulder, Ben dragged them both toward where he thought the Door of the Dead should be. He forced himself to keep staring straight ahead. He could hear Portia moaning softly at his side, and that kept him going until at last he found what he was looking for. It was the door! Only a few steps stood between them and the way out now, and Ben almost believed that they were going to make it when one of the spirits burst out of the fog ahead and surged toward them. There was no time for caution now. Ben picked up Portia bodily and ran headlong toward the spirit. Just before they collided, he wrapped his free arm protectively about Portia’s face—and jumped.
They crashed through the fog spirit like a fist through a wall of liquid cold. Ben slammed into the door with his shoulder, bursting it open, and together they tumbled through.