Deep in the forest I heard an anguished howl, interrupting my internal debate. The howl sang through my bones and struck my heart, snapping it clean in two. That howl made me weep, my breath hitching in a sob. I couldn’t ignore that sound.

I broke into a run. Arms pumping, my heart racing—I was running so fast, jumping over downed logs and across a stream, that I lost my slippers. The cold ground bit at my feet as I charged through the trees, not daring to look at all the cuts and scrapes I was getting as I ran. It didn’t matter—I had to get to that howl.

Hours, days, or indeterminate minutes later, I found a small clearing. A wolf cried in the center, its foot caught in a trap. He’d dug at the trap, chewing at his own leg, leaving it a bloody ruin. On the wind, I could hear the hunters coming. Too far to hear footsteps, but I could hear the occasional shout of a high, demanding voice, answered by a chorus of lower responses.

Loud, greedy voices that contained no mercy for the wolf.

He caught sight of me and stopped, his ears popping forward. I held my hands out flat, moving toward him as slow as I dared, trying to ride that fine line between freeing him quickly and not spooking him.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m a friend. Please let me help?”

The wolf sat on his haunches, trapped leg splaying awkwardly to the side, panting away his terror, but letting me approach. Once I was close enough, I could see the trap wasn’t an ordinary creation of cruel steel. It was magic, formed out of a malicious type of claiming spell. The trap said This is mine—my property, and no one else can have it. It wasn’t random chance—someone had set out to trap this wolf. To expend so much power, so much work, they must have wanted him badly. Yet the trap kept the wolf vulnerable, leaving him open to other predators or deprivation.

The spell was a creation of pure selfishness.

I reached for the trap and the wolf growled low.

I paused, licking my lips, breathing away my fear. The wolf would smell it, and it would make everything worse. That wouldn’t be good for anybody. I looked him in the eyes. He was a beautiful example of a gray wolf—white belly, silver back, his face mask dipping to a dark gray. He had eyes like a winter chill, beautiful and brilliant.

I reached out and touched his muzzle, using my magic to make him understand my words. “You’re going to have to trust me. I can undo this, I promise.” The sounds of the hunters grew louder—they were so much closer already. The wolf’s ears flicked and he stopped growling.

I felt his acceptance, like the brush of warm fur in my mind. He would let me mess with the trap while he kept an eye out for the hunting party.