“When you reach Scotland,” his mother said, “we’ll find you.”

They would find him in Scotland. Isaac bit his lip, reasoning, parsing it out. Maybe this is what had happened to his friends who’d been sent away. Maybe being relocated wasn’t the bad thing he feared. He looked from his mother to his father, their expressions mingling worry with love, their eyes bright. He had to believe in them, in what they were telling him. He had to trust them.

“I know this is hard for you, but it will be all right,” his mother said. “You’re strong, Isaac. Stronger than you know.”

“Try to stay low,” his father said with a fleeting smile. “So tall for your age. You’ve grown these last few months. I should have noticed. I didn’t see how much,” he said, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder, his eyes level with Isaac’s.

Isaac straightened, bracing his legs. Then the reality of his departure made him feel small again and he slumped and rounded his back, swallowing hard. So many shifting emotions.

“Look for this in Scotland. It’s a symbol. It will guide you,” his mother said, and she pressed a folded piece of paper into his hand. He started to unfold the paper but his mother stopped him, her hands tight around his. “Look for it. This is all the information you’ll need for now,” and she squeezed the fist that held the paper.

Then came the knock on the door, and his father moved fast. “Yes?” he said, opening the door a crack.

“It’s time,” came the response. A woman in a large overcoat stepped inside. “We must hurry. Only ten minutes between patrols. Do you have it?”

Isaac’s father placed a leather wallet in her hand. Money, Isaac thought.

His father tucked a similar wallet into Isaac’s inside jacket pocket, and his mother folded his pack into his arms. His skin felt hot, then cold. If it was too dangerous for him to stay, what about them? When would they leave, if not now with him? He must stay with them, that was all there was to it. The shame of running away made his eyes burn.

“You’re stronger than you know,” his mother whispered as she held him tight.

“I—” he began, then stopped.

“Isaac,” his father said. “You have what you need inside you. When we see you again, you’ll begin to understand.”

With that, his spirits lifted. He would see them again. He would understand. His parents believed in him.

He could rise to this challenge. Like his heroes in the old stories, Isaac could steel himself to move toward the unknown, not simply stay safe. Maybe it came from his longing to change. Maybe it came from being a Wolf.

He would own his name. He had to try. For the sake of his parents and their belief in him, if nothing else.