Christmas at Wolf Creek
Ella
I grip the steering wheel tighter as we wind our way through the darkened forest road leading back to our cottage on the far side of Wolfcreek Ranch.
The headlights cut a narrow path through the pitch-black night, lighting just enough of the twisting road to make me nervous.
I've always hated driving after sunset, especially on these remote ranch roads where the darkness feels absolute.
“Mama, can we have hot chocolate when we get home?” Nora asks from the backseat, her voice drowsy. It's well past her bedtime, but the excitement of meeting her aunts and uncles has kept her wired all evening.
“If you're still awake by then, sweetheart,” I answer, checking the rearview mirror. Her eyelids are already drooping, Scout's golden head resting contentedly in her lap. “But I think someone's about ready for dreamland.”
“Am not,” she protests, but the yawn that follows contradicts her words.
I smile despite my tension. Having the MacGallans at the main lodge has left me rattled in ways I didn't anticipate. Seeing Kane—the brother Tomas spoke of most often—was like looking at a ghost of my father's younger self.
The same intensity in his eyes, the same stubborn set to his jaw. And the others, each carrying pieces of Tomas in their features, their mannerisms.
But it's not just the family reunion that has me on edge.
It's the talk of Mikhail, the memories dredged up by having to explain our situation. After years of careful silence, speaking his name aloud feels like summoning a demon.
Scout suddenly lifts his head in the backseat, ears perked forward, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
“What is it, boy?” I murmur, slowing the SUV slightly. The answer comes in a heart-stopping instant—a massive shape materializing in my headlights, tall and imposing. I slam on the brakes with a startled cry, the vehicle skidding slightly on the gravel road.
Nora jerks awake with a yelp as Scout barks sharply.
“Mama!” she cries out, clutching the seat belt across her chest.