Their house was on the far end of the town, and although the town wasn’t large, it was spread out more than most; there were many hills and the study house was a long walk from where they lived. Not only that, but Nadav knew that Isaac liked to take a more scenic route home, one that skirted the town’s edge closer to the forest, so that he could gaze out at the thick clumps of trees or at the heavy canopy of stars and clouds and think about everything he had learned during the day. Nadav darted to the path that skirted the edge of the town, a path that was completely invisible now in the darkness and snowdrifts, and began running through the thick snow—snow like heavy powder glowing blue in the dark as his eyes adjusted—scanning the snow for footprints in the dim starlight. But the winds were howling across the hills, howling so loud that Nadav wondered whether he was hearing winds or wolves or both, blowing the snow across the surface of the earth with such force that Nadav could actually see the wind moving in waves of blown snow, turning the earth’s surface into a wavy ocean or a bank of billowing clouds in the night. There were no footprints anywhere. Nadav twisted his head around as he continued racing toward the study house and saw that even his own footprints had already disappeared. As if he had never existed.

The wind burned Nadav’s face as he ran through the night, searing his cheekbones. Thin watery streams leaked out of his nostrils and hardened the skin under his nose into a thin film of ice. He had to squint to see as his eyes began watering, cold tears streaking backward across his temples. He forgot entirely about the threat of the wolves, forgot entirely why he was running. Only his feet remembered where they were running to. He ran and ran, never slowing down even though his body begged him for it, responding to each clutch from his sides and each wheeze from his chest by pushing his legs even harder. He became a wolf himself. After a while he didn’t feel anything anymore, not his aching sides, not the pain in his chest, not his racing legs. All he could think of was his brother.

Suddenly, only a few minutes into Nadav’s desperate run, the blind blue-white landscape was interrupted by something. At the crest of the next hill, Nadav spotted a shape in the darkness, lying like a fallen log across the invisible path. As he came closer, he could make out against the glowing snow the dark silhouette of a head, a neck, even a slumped-over leg. A jolt of pure horror jabbed him in the back of his own neck. Isaac!