Five

                                    

                                          
The wolves stopped howling around 5, but the warm feeling that came with them only increased. I was slightly worried by their silence, afraid that maybe they were coming closer to the house.
                          
But I think I was more afraid that they were leaving me.
                          
I didn't know what to think of myself at the time; every time I heard them howl it brought on a sense of fear and memory, and I was haunted by what had happened all those years ago. My scars would sometimes burn and occasionally, when I fell asleep, I would relive the attack over and over and over again until my own crying woke me up.
                          
But then whenever the warmth left my body and I knew that the wolves were gone, it felt as though they had taken my sense of safety and famililarity along with them. I felt lost.
                          
The two emotions intermingling in my mind all night made me extremely exhausted, but I felt as though sleep was galaxies away. My mother wouldn't be home until 10 or 11, Dad wouldn't be home until tomorrow morning, and my brothers would be home at 8.
                          
I grabbed my raincoat, and slipped my arms into it. My boots were sitting by the backdoor, and I stepped into them slowly, tucking in the bottom of my Mickey Mouse pajama pants. I slid open the slider, taking a sharp breath against the frosty gust of wind that flew in.
                          
The lawn was soaked as I walked across it, mud splashing up onto the sides of my rubber boots. There were footprints in the muck behind me where I walked, slushy and shallow. I made my way carefully to the swings, assuring that I wouldn't fall straight on my butt, and sat slowly into one.
                          
The swings squeaked as I pushed lightly back in forth with my feet, and the wind howled against the side of the house. The sun was setting quickly behind the hills, casting a pink light onto the trees straight across from me. The cotton candy sky gave me a feeling of giddiness- and my heart was thumping in my chest: deep, slow beats.
                          
There was a rustle in the trees, and my body tensed. I scanned the treeline, alert and silent. A dog down the street howled, and my eyes caught sight of something bright, like the leaves of these same trees in the mid-fall weeks.
                          
Orange eyes sat staring at me, focused and attentive. The body that belonged to them was hunched and stiff, muscular beneath the same black fur I had seen at the school earlier today. My breathing halted, and we sat staring at each other, my eyes filled with fear and it's filled with- curiosity? Ferocity?
                          
I was so scared that I couldn't even will myself to slowly walk back into the house, I was instead super-glued to the swing.
                          
But if I had learned anything from reading "Cujo", it was that if the wolf was going to attack, it would have made some notion by now. Unless it was, like, pre-rabid or something.
                          
I knew those eyes. I knew that posture, that expression. Maybe that was why I wasn't moving. Because there was something about this wolf that- although it wasn't friendly- was familiar, almost comfortable.
                          
The ringing of my phone broke me out of my daze, and I felt a scream threatening to escape my throat. I held back my cries, keeping my eyes on the beast, and reached into my pocket. My phone was cold and familiar in my hand, and I slowly pulled it out. The screen flashed MOM at me, and I slowly held it up to my ear.
                          
"Mom?" I asked, my voice shaky.
                          
"Honey? Are you home?"
                          
"What? Yeah, Mom, there's-"
                          
"Why didn't you call me, Akina?" She asked, her voice frustrated. "I was-"
                          
"There's a wolf." I told her simply.
                          
"Akina," Mom sighed, and I could practically feel her roll her eyes. "It's probably just the next door neighbor's new dog. It's a big husky."
                          
"No, Mom, it's a wolf. It's right here in front of me, and it's staring at me. I know what the neighbors Husky looks like."