He turned from his silent vigil to see the figure of a large wolf lope into view from between the trees. The animal’s breath condensed in the cold night air into clouds of white that floated away into the black. It approached across the clearing, moonlight glinting on its silver fur and stopped by his side. He stood and nodded his acknowledgment. A sound like the wind through the high pines and the soft breaking of the loch waters on a stony shore surrounded the wolf from nowhere, and her shape swept in a heartbeat, like a passing shadow, from animal to woman. She stood now, tall and graceful, silver-streaked black hair tumbling to shoulders draped in a long fur cloak that fell to the ground around her bare feet. “Aatu, my mother. It is good to see you,” he said, bowing his head. She placed a hand on his bowed head and smiled. “William, my son, it is both good and sad to have you back in the glen. The wolves welcome one of their own back. The time is soon?” she asked. “Yes.
