Once they could no longer sense the dangerous presence from deep within the forest, the restless wolves finally calmed down.
They turned their attention back to the old man holding the gun. Though they appeared to be wandering aimlessly in place, the snow wolves on every side were inching closer.
The silence shrouding the pine forest did not reassure Jasna. Instead, it felt unbearably oppressive.
After clearing away most of the firewood and rations Old Enma had painstakingly prepared over the past few days, she knelt in the snow and hurriedly tightened the harnesses around the sled dogs. From time to time, she glanced toward Old Enma at the top of the snowy slope.
She had to get Old Enma somewhere safe—this powerful determination helped her endure the stabbing pain caused by her injured foot scraping against the snow and touching the ice.
Old Enma should never have had to face these dangers. All of this was because of her.
In the past, she had been hopelessly immersed in the absurd dream her father had woven for her. To make that absurd dream come true, she had directly or indirectly caused the deaths of countless Muggles and wizards.
Now, she had awakened from that dream. She did not want to kill anyone else.
"Enma!"
After fastening the harness around the last sled dog's neck, Jasna shouted at the old man without even taking the time to wipe the sweat from her temples.
Bang!
Smoke curled from the muzzle again. The flat snowfield suddenly exploded, startling a snow wolf that had tried to approach and sending it rolling backward several times.
The restless pack crouched low, their cold eyes locked firmly onto Old Enma.
Click, click—
Old Enma, who had been standing motionless like a statue, finally moved. The hunting rifle