Another fifteen minutes go by. Or it could be fifty. The hemlocks have given way to what I learn are birch—bare bodied and thin in the trunk, their branches make geometric shapes, nature’s art. My legs aching, I’m almost in a trance, trudging along behind them, my breath making clouds, snowsuit whooshing rhythmically in time with my steps. The sun’s out and the snow now twinkles like diamond dust. A slight breeze rustles the branches, scattering more snow around us. My mind wanders to Oliver, kissing my favourite freckle next to his left eye, and I get tingles. Then I see my best friend Lucy making her coconut cupcakes, me licking the bowl. My dog Bella, the two of us spooning in bed. Knowing she’s pining for me is horrible. I can’t tell her when I’ll be home or even reassure her I’ll be back at all. I see Chirp in her enclosure at Lucy’s family bird sanctuary. How’s her lame leg? I hope it’s not bothering her and she’s not in pain; Lucy promised to message me if it got worse. Is she giving Chirp her favourite summer treat, watermelon? Probably … Lucy loves Chirp almost as much as I do. Chirp looks so cute when the feathers around her beak are dyed pink with juice. And how’s Paula feeling today? If she could only see me now, she’d laugh herself silly. I can’t wait to have a little cousin. Although, Oliver’s ballet-obsessed sister, Sabine, has almost become a sister to me too; she looks up to me and hangs on my every word. I wonder if a first cousin will be the same, and if she’ll be a girl. I really hope—

‘Shhh!’ Jaxon stops dead and squints through his binoculars.

‘A deer?’ I whisper to my father. He puts his finger to his lips.

I desperately want to see one, a little spotty foal, how amazing would that be? My toes are icing up again so I start wriggling them.

‘This is the mother’s den,’ Jaxon says. ‘The alpha female. The female and male heads are called the alphas; they are parents, leaders of their family and the pack. Take a look.’ Jaxon hands me the binoculars, the same type Lucy and her dad use for birdwatching.

I focus the lenses and a figure takes shape. Shaggy with grey and white fur, a hint of honey. She’s climbing down into a hole in the snow. A wolf.

‘Wow,’ I breathe. ‘How big is the den?’

‘About ten feet. She has to dig deep enough so predators can’t hear them. I mean, wolves are at the top of the food chain but occasionally there’s danger from grizzlies. You can’t be too careful.’

‘Are there really cubs down there?’

‘Pups, not cubs. Hold on, you’ll see.’