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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year ago

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"19 Prisoners Escape Fort Henry," Kingston Whig-Standard. August 27, 1943. Page 1 & 13. ---- Capture of three German prisoners at Barriefield Camp, Ordnance Corps training centre five miles east of here, near noon today brought into custody 12 of the 19 men who tunneled their way to freedom under the wide stone walls of Fort Henry here last night.

The men - Franz Karper, 25, Kurt Kroehnert, 26, and Friedrich Schmale, 24 - were hiding in a ditch on the outskirts of camp and were found by patrolling soldiers who encountered no opposition from them.

All prisoners were N.C.O's and men, no officers having participated in the mass break.

Earlier, the recapture of two men at Seeley's Bay, 22 miles north of Kingston on the highway to Ottawa, indicated that some of those remaining at large may have made their way out of the immediate Kingston district.

(Additional stories on the escape of the 19 German prisoners-of-war from Fort Henry last night will be found on Page 2 of of The Whig-Standard.)

Their capture in a ditch by soldiers taken to the spot by a truck driver had brought the number recaptured to nine.

A thousand soldiers and city and provincial police were comb- ing Eastern Ontario for the men still at large.

Authorities at the internment camp, while refusing to give any official statement, pending a court of inquiry, were free to acknowledge that the break-out was a well planned affair and it mystified them completely.

Officially The Whig-Standard was told it was a "tunnel job," and no violence of any kind was used by the men in getting their freedom. It is understood the. men left the internment camp shortly before 10 o'clock last evening, but their disappearance was not noticed for some time later.

The arrest of two of the prisoners of war by Detective Vincent Killen, and Constable A. Playne of the Kingston police department, and Provincial Constable J. H. Hatch, was the first intimation that an escape had taken place at Fort Henry.

Answering a call which had been received from a lady residing in the Dead Man's Bay summer camp area, the police apprehended two of the German prisoners of war who had broken out of the internment camp a few minutes previously. It is understood the police were informed that two men who appeared to be prisoners of war were seen in the vicinity. One of the prisoners was apprehended outside one of the summer cottages, while the second was located inside one of the buildings; neither of the men put up any resistance, and returned to the fort in charge of the police officers.

With the return of these two men to Fort Henry a general alarm was sounded, and the police and military authorities of the en- tire area were dispatched in pursuit of the missing prisoners. A count which was made by the authorities at Fort Henry showed 19 of the inmates were missing. The names and the descriptions of all of the 19 were immediately communicated to the city police, two having been taken in custody, and returned to the Fort.

Shortly before one o'clock two more of the number were arrested as they were walking along Highway No. 2 between Vimy Barracks and the cut near the village of Barriefield. It is understood these two men were proceeding in a westerly direction, and were actually in sight of the internment camp when the police caught up with them. The authorities refused to state who captured these two men.

About 5:30 o'clock this morning two more of the "wanted men" were taken in charge in the Seeleys Bay area and one half hour later a third man was located near the Ordnance Training Centre, asleep in an R.C.A.M.C. crash ambulance, and all three were taken back to the place of internment. The other two men were arrested near Collins Bay.

Scattered The authorities who are engaged in the search believe the men, after getting out of the fort, scattered in different directions and hid in the bushes not far from the internment camp, and in nearly every case they will be taken. in charge before the day is over.

A Whig-Standard reporter who was early on the chase, spent the better part of the night touring the city district in search of information, but he was not fortunate enough to see any of the escaped men. The police and soldiers who manned the entire area refused to allow motorists to get close to Fort Henry, or in fact proceed along the highway.

The highways in and out of the city were heavily guarded by he soldiers who carried live ammunition, and every motorist, and this included many transport drivers, who had occasion to drive he along the highways, were ordered out of their cars, and had to show their identification cards before being allowed to proceed. All the automobiles were searched, as were the trucks.

The authorities are at a loss to know how such a large group of men could get their freedom without being noticed. While officially information is lacking, there is a persistent rumor that the men went down the large most which extends from the fort to Navy Bay, and in fact passes under a bridge where an armed guard is on duty. This report is denied by the military authorities.

If this tunnel was used, and it is possible it could be, the men would have to do some manoeuvreing to get out of the section of the fort where their sleeping quarters are located; they would have to, by some unknown manner, get through or over a stone wall and then over a wire fence, which seems very improbable unless they had been working on the whole scheme for some time, Armed guards are mounted at all times on the walls, and how this large group of men could make a get-away is mystifying to the authorities.

Pte. L. G. Coutlee, whose home is in Brockville, a member of the Canadian Provost Corps at the Royal Canadian Ordnance Corps Training Centre at Barriefield, captured two on No. 2 Highway east of Kingston.

Coutlee was patrolling the highway when he saw two men outlined in the headlights of an approaching car. The men jumped into the ditch as the car drew near and then resumed their walk. Coutlee grabbed the men and demanded their registration cards and when they failed to produce the documents, he took them to the Barriefield camp. They were sent back to Fort Henry.

Throughout the night soldiers from the Barriefield camp scoured the countryside for the missing men while provincial and city police patrolled the St. Lawrence River in requisitioned boats to prevent any attempted flight to the United States.

Heard Escape Harold Fitman, a member of the Kingston Fire Department who was paddling in the St. Lawrence River close to Fort Henry last evening believes he heard the prisoners making their escape. Mr. Pitman told The Whig-Standard left Cedar Island about 9:30 o'clock after visiting the Boy Scout camp. He said he was fairly close the shore of Fort Henry when heard men walking on the shore rocks.

He further stated he believed the men after getting out of the fort encloser walked or ran down the bank and were in the act of crawling over a small broken down stone wall on the shore when he first heard the noise. He said he thought there was something wrong and paddled over to the Royal Military College grounds where he tried to get in touch with the authorities at Fort Henry. He said he gave the message to a women he met on the grounds but was not sure his order to phone Fort Henry was carried out.

When he arrived at Knapp's boat house near La Salle causeway the police were already on the job stopping all types of vehicles.

The Whig-Standard was unable to get any estimate of the number of soldiers and police officers who were assigned to the task of rounding up the prisoners. It has been suggested that the military detachment was in excess of 300 and they were from Vimy Barracks, Ordnance Training Centre and District Depot No. 3. The provincial police details from Eastern Ontario as far west as Belleville were on the job all night and this morning.

This makes the third successful escape from Fort Henry since the start of the war. Two men made a getaway when they forced their way through a window in the wall, which had been enlarged while the third man slipped past the guard when he concealed himself inside a piano. This man was arrested at the Lindsay Piano Company Store, Princess Street, when located by C. L. Gordon, the manager of the firm.

An extensive search is being made of all islands in the St Lawrence River. Motorboats from Kingston, Gananoque and points along the river are assisting in the task of trying to round up the missing prisoners.

BACKGROUND Fort Henry was used as an Internment Camp during the First Great War, and after that it was used by the military authorities for different purposes, mostly for storing ammunition and equipment. About five years ago, at the suggestion of the Department of Highways of Toronto, who realized the Fort could be made a point of interest for tourists, a considerable sum of money was spent in remodelling it and this work was done with the co-operation of the department of defence who shared in the cost.

The Fort was then used as a museum and the guns which were used in the battle of 1812-14 were among the relics. Thousands of United States and Canadian tourists visited the Fort and showed a keen interest in the relics. With the declaration of war the Department of National Defence took over the entire building and it was immediately turned into an internment camp; since that time hundreds of German prisoners of war, mostly from the armed forces, have been confined there.

Fort Henry was considered to be one of the "safer" internment camps, and many of the German prisoners of war, mostly officers who had served in the air force and the navy, and were considered to be the dangerous type, had been confined there.

From page 1:

Biggest Break Here in 1838 One hundred and five years ago the most sensationaall break in Canadian history took place at Fort Henry from which 19 German prisoners escaped last night,

In 1838 John Montgomery. owner of the Yonge Street Tavern from which the rebel, William Lyon Mackenzie, grand- father of Canada's present prime minister, fled from police, escaped from Fort Henry with 11 other prisoners involved in the rebellion.

Under Montgomery's leadership the party made good their escape after a series of adventures with guards and others who scoured the country searching for them. The men had been condemned to death but their sentences had been changed to exile in Van Die man's Land.

Description Of Prisoners Officials of Military District No. 3 early today released descriptions of the 15 prisoners who were not immediately captured following the escape of 19 from the prison camp at nearby Fort Henry. Of these eight have been recaptured. All were listed as Germans. They are:

*Walter Bartels, 21, 153 pounds, six feet, clean shaven and medium build.

Johann Degraff, 27, five feet, seven inches, 147 pounds. Domnick Heinz, 21, 148 pounds, five feet, seven inches. Clean shaven and speaks English with a foreign accent.

Alfred Gunther, 31, 151 pounds, five feet 9½ inches, speaks English and German. Has 14½ inch scar on forehead and a wart on right cheek.

Wilhelm Joesting, 41, 160 pounds, five feet, ten inches. Clean shaven.

Franz Karper, 25, 183 pounds, five feet, 7½ inches. Dark complexion, one inch scar on forehead. Speaks a few words of English, Gerhard Knoepfel, 22, 143 pounds, five feet, six inches. Fair complexion.

Kurt Kroehnert, 26, 137 pounds, five feet, five inches. Medium-dark complexion. Speaks German and English.

Wilhelm Kruse, 27, 150 pounds, six feet. Fair complexion.

Ernst Muench, 24, 145 pounds, five feet, six inches. Fair complexion. Speaks German, Italian and English. Has scar on left side of face.

Hans August Rhomberg. 21, 152 pounds, six feet. Fresh complexion.

Friedrick Schmale, 24, 165 pounds, five feet, six inches. Speaks German and some English with a low, foreign accent.

Karl Schwarz, 22, 140 pounds, five feet, seven inches. Medium complexion. Speaks Spanish, German and a little English.

Heinz Stoerk, 21, 119 pounds, five feet, five inches; fair complexion; had a quarter-inch scar on right eye; speaks German only.

Heinz Wirtz, 23; 140 pounds, tive feet, seven inches; fair complexion.

*-Recaptured.

#kingston ontario #fort henry #prisoners of war #prisoner of war camp #mass escape #prison break #german prisoners #police search #canadian military #escape from custody #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 months ago

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Why Not Us?

CW: Memories of mass murder, some internalized dehumanization, survivor’s guilt

Misae made it to the little bedroom before the moon rose, thankfully. He nearly tripped over the strange mattress on the floor, the one they’d blown up with air and then thrown blankets and pillows on. It was meant to be his bed, he thought, which made sense.

Anaya might let him on the real bed, but not to sleep. Wolves, like dogs, slept on the floor. It would be lonely, but it would make sense. Almost nothing did, now. Sitting in chairs, eating pizza instead of having to shift to eat the raw meat thrown into the kennels, wearing clothes and being asked if he would like something to drink… they didn’t seem to know what he was, to understand.

He could hear them now, Eden, Anaya, and Vanessa, from down the hall. They talked and laughed, and Misae felt hollowed out at the sound, wishing he could be there with them.

Maybe there would be more pizza.

He laid one hand on his stomach. It felt… almost rounded. He’d never eaten so much or so well, not in all the life he had lived. He hadn’t had to fight over any of it, either. There hadn’t been the need to snarl and posture, or crawl on his belly and lick at an older wolf’s mouth, hoping they’d give him a few scraps out of pity or some dim affection.

The moon’s slow rise made him restless, bouncing on his toes as he tried to decide where he could safely change. The room was small, but he could fit under the big bed if he was smart about it.

But then the humans would get into the bed, and if the mattress dipped low it might force him back out.

The call to shift prickled under his skin, and Misae stripped his shirt and pants off before it could take hold and leave him confused and trapped in the cloth. He tossed the sweatpants and shirt onto the bed just as he felt his spine begin to bend.

It always felt so good, when the shift started. Like waking up after a good sleep, coming back to where you belonged. He had always been meant to walk on four legs, and the human side was only what he was allowed for good behavior.

He leaned over, a sensation like goosebumps running up and down his arms and legs, setting his hair on end. The healing wound in his leg throbbed but some of the pain felt more distant as he changed.

It wasn’t that the wound disappeared, it was only that his wolf body knew how it felt to be injured with silver far better than his human body did. It knew how to ignore the pain, how to keep moving, because to let the pain take you was to be singled out to die. Wolves who were too hurt to keep going were wolves that starved, his instincts knew it. Wolves who starved died.

Everyone died anyway. It hadn't mattered how good they were when Bill didn't want them any longer.

He shuddered and shoved that thought aside. He couldn’t think about his family, not now. It would overtake him and he’d just be trapped in the grave in his mind, even if his body was here still breathing.

He couldn’t think about dozens of flat blank eyes, frozen in mute horror. He couldn’t think about the warmth still lingering in the stiffening bodies pressed all around him, about how Nina had tried to cover him and hide him from the shots even as she had been bleeding to death herself.

Had Nina been his real mother?

It was possible. Their fur was the same, their eyes were the same. But some of the other wolves had fur and eyes like his, too. But... maybe Nina had been his mother.

Maybe she had known it, if only at the end, and tried to save the one pup she could.

The humans had tried to ruin them to each other, make them hurtful and hateful, but the wolves had found a way to love, anyway. In secret, when it was safe, and at the end when nothing was safe and it didn’t matter any longer there was one more way to love that Bill couldn't take from them.

It made no difference if you loved when you would lose each other anyway. In the end, the werewolves had loved each other, and it hadn’t saved any of them.

Except him.

Misae closed his eyes, stretching his shifting muscles and forcing himself to leave the dead behind, for now anyway. For as long as he could.

Bones cracked and broke beneath his skin, painlessly reforming. Misae dropped to a crouch and leaned his weight forward on his hands, feeling bare, vulnerable fingers change to rougher paw pads and clicking nails. He stretched his front legs until the muscles stretched and burned and sighed, contented by the feeling.

Canine teeth lengthened and his ears grew. He twitched one just to feel it, exhaling a rough sigh as his tongue briefly lolled out. Fur spread over skin like a blanket, a little patchy but still warming his chilly body, and the bed on the floor called to him. He was tired, and the killing back at Bill’s house kept trying to worm its way past his moments of comfort and warmth in this new place, with these new people.

If he laid still, it would catch up with him, and he didn’t want Anaya or Eden to hear how wolves mourned, how they cried. He didn’t know if they would still comfort him then, or if they would turn angry at the sounds, or learn to hate him. Bill’s family hated the sound of the mourning wolves, beat them for their weeping in human form or for their howls as wolves.

Who knew what regular humans would do?

Misae only knew that Anaya and Eden had been kind, so far. But so had Aaron, sometimes - Bill’s youngest son had been known to scratch behind a wolf’s ears when none of the other humans were looking. Even Austin had once bandaged Misae’s leg after he’d gotten it caught in a fence and bled.

That didn’t make them any kinder when the werewolves broke the rules, rules no one ever said out loud but simply expected the wolves to learn by being beaten when they were broken until they figured them out. It had never stopped Austin from calling them all names, or laughing when they fought.

Human kindness always had limits.

Always.

Even as he became the first form he ever knew, the stalking werewolf that Bill had never been able to separate from the boy whose body the wolf shared, Misae knew he had to hide. Not from Anaya or Eden, who had already seen him as a wolf. Not because he feared them.

He had to hide because they didn’t know to fear him.

Misae’s nose turned black and scents exploded into the world around him. What had before been just the light smell of cleaning products and maybe a pumpkin-scented candle was now a collection of stories he could read in the air and along the ground. Vanessa had walked in here to set up the mattress, having forgotten to take her shoes off after getting the mail. Misae could smell the grass she had stepped on, scent the slight shift in her smell of frustration when it took a long time to get the air pump working to set up the mattress. He could smell, on the mattress, long months spent idle with no need to be used. The faintest smell of a camping trip, some time in the past - the last time the air mattress had been needed.

The way his sense of smell changed was always what gave away when it was time to find somewhere to hide, before the silver light could touch his fur and call to him. It would make him want to run, to howl and see if any other wolves were nearby to answer.

What would he do if they were?

He had known only his own family. He’d never seen any werewolves that didn’t huddle together in the kennels, fighting over the barest hints of kindness shown to them by Bill and his family. If he met a free wolf, he might simply lay down, show his belly, and wait for them to tear out his throat when they smelled the kennels on him.

Misae paced restlessly around the small room, limping and trying to keep weight off his injured leg, snuffling against the ground, tracing the hints of Eden and Anaya in here and then following the softer smell of Vanessa until he found the closet door was cracked open.

Perfect. Like a den.

He had to paw at it, whining softly with his ears flat against his head, looking nervously at the patch of moonlight that seemed to head inexorably in his direction. His heart raced beneath his fur at the sight.

Bill had always said, over and over again, never let the moonlight touch you. It was the only rule the humans told the werewolves, and taught to the pups before they were put into the main kennels. During the full moon, for three nights, they would huddle together inside big wooden boxes that formed a kind of den. Anyone caught outside the den, by Bill or by the cameras, would be punished.

It was the first thing Misae remembered learning, while still toddling around on four short legs, a few weeks after birth. Never let the moonlight touch you. He'd broken the rule running from the guns, from the grave of his family. He'd broken the rule running from Austin. But… that had been different, hadn’t it?

Hadn’t it?

Misae clambered clumsily over a pile of cardboard boxes, blowing harshly through his nose as things packed inside clattered around. He pushed at them with his snout until he had made for himself a sort of barrier, protecting him from the world outside this tiny space. He turned in a circle and then laid down, ears flat, shimmering amber-brown eyes watching the silvery light that cut across the bed through the open doorway.

Beneath his nose, soaked into the floorboards years ago, he could smell a hint of a rose perfume. Left by some other person, long before any of the familiar smells of Vanessa's life had entered this place.

The scent made him shudder, heart going cold.

Bill's wife Ada wore rose perfume.

The smell of roses, for the children in the puppy kennels, meant one of you might vanish that day. Ada sometimes took them, luring them out with treats and soft words until she could get the loop around their necks to pull tight, leading them on the leash inside.

She mostly brought them back, after sticking needles to take blood or give what she called 'medicine' that put the puppies to deep sleep and left them groggy and confused upon waking. She mostly brought them back.

But not always.

Rose perfume drifting on the air was sometimes all the warning they got before a pup disappeared.

The memories made him tremble and he whined softly, but quieted the sound as fast as he could. It was something all of them learned, not just how to hide from the moonlight but also how to be so quiet that none of the men and women inside the house could hear and think of them.

They all learned how to be, if only temporarily, forgotten.

Now Misae was the only left for Bill and his family to remember. He wondered if Bill would come for him, still. Try to find him. Or if, now that he'd outrun Austin, he'd let Misae go into a world where nobody was left to even love him in secret any longer.

It was Eden and Anaya he needed to hide from now. Not because they might hurt him, but because he might hurt them. Wolves were most dangerous when the moon was full, calling on their nonhuman blood.

It made them monsters - hungry, mindless killers.

Everyone knew that.

Bill made sure everyone knew that.

He watched the moonlight’s slow crawl along the small room until his eyes drifted shut and he dozed off, his tail flicking occasionally. Once the moon began to set in the morning, just as the sun rose, he’d be able to be a boy again. Until then, he could relax into the form he was far more comfortable in even if he had been painstakingly taught to fear what it was capable of.

He slept deeply enough to have fuzzy, formless dreams. He was beneath all of his family, trying to crawl out from under them. They called for him, cried for help, whined and whimpered and shouted and cursed.

The air was being slowly crushed out of him, and he desperately tried to get out from beneath the weight of their deaths, their memories.

He looked up to see straight down the barrel of Austin’s shotgun, the black within the metal circle, holding his death.

Found you, Austin said, softly. Time to go, Rusty.

Fingers touched the top of his head.

Misae?

He jolted awake and snapped out of sheer instinct, ears flat in a flash and teeth clicking together. He didn’t quite catch anything, but as his eyes opened, he saw Anaya looking down at him, eyes wide, her hand jerked back against her chest.

“Misae?” She repeated, voice a little shakier this time. She was wearing sleeping clothes, and Eden was just behind her, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants that had Misae looking in jealousy at skin only scarred along the underside of his chest, two odd half-circle shapes that didn’t mean anything to Misae’s mind. “Holy shit.”

“DId he bite you?” Eden asked, an edge to his voice. “Anaya, if he bit you-... isn’t that how it-... it spreads?”

Misae curled up tighter, whimpering, his heart picking back up into a pounding race that made him dizzy. He tucked his tail as tightly as he could and looked up with his chin pressed against the floor, licking at his chops nervously.

“Naya? Did he-”

“No, he didn’t,” Anaya replied, frowning back at Eden, before dropping into a crouch. “And we don’t know that that's how it spreads, or whatever. Or even if it does spread. Who even knows what’s real and what isn’t about werewolves?”

“Before yesterday, I would have told you nothing is real about werewolves,” Eden said, hovering behind her.

“And you would have been wrong, wouldn't you. Besides, he was asleep. I woke him up, that’s on me, not him. Hey, Misae. Hey there, honey.” Her voice softened, and she shoved some of Misae’s barrier of boxes aside, until she could hold out her hand and lay it down with knuckles on floor and palm facing up, between them. “It’s okay, honey. It’s just me. Are you good? We were worried when we didn’t see where you’d gone. You were making some noise in here, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

Misae’s nose twitched. He eased forward, belly to the ground, until he could slowly lay his chin in her palm. She let one finger gently scratch at the soft fur there and he whined.

“He’s okay,” Anaya whispered. “I scared you, huh? You were having bad dreams, I bet. Don't blame you, this has been a really weird day. Just... the weirdest. Can I ask why you're here in the closet?”

“There’s a joke about being a closeted werewolf in there somewhere, but I’m honestly not awake enough to make it,” Eden said, but he moved back until he could sit on the bed. He didn’t quite relax, not yet, but the space helped Misae to feel a little safer. Eden didn’t look - or smell - angry.

“Oh, shut up,” Anaya said, rolling her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. She wasn’t angry, either. “And don’t spend all night coming up with it, either. I don’t want to hear it when we wake up.”

“Well, now I have to come up with something. I have to come up with something and have it be the literal first thing I say to you when we wake up,” Eden teased, flopping himself backwards onto the bed and wriggling under the blankets, sighing happily when he was covered up. “Oh, this comforter weighs a ton. Perfect.”

“For someone who likes to sleep in the absolute wilderness like a caveman, you sure love a weighted blanket.” Anaya snorted.

"If I'm a caveman, that means you like a caveman." Eden grinned. "Ha ha, you're in love with a Neanderthal," He sing-songed. Anaya threw up a middle finger over her shoulder in his general direction, and Eden's smile only widened.

Misae wondered what a Nee-ander-tal was as his eyes flicked to the side, taking in the window, looking for the moonlight. To his relief, the curtains were closed.

The room was dark, now, except for a small lamp they’d turned on by the bed. There was no chance of the moon catching at his fur, calling him to hunt, to rip and tear and rend.

Misae pushed himself slowly onto his feet, ignoring his throbbing back leg. Anaya smiled at him, and it felt like a reward. His heart beat faster for new reasons, and he followed her as she eased back and away from the closet, pushing past the boxes.

When Anaya sat on the air mattress on the floor, Misae moved slowly onto it as well until he could lick at the corners of her mouth with his tail tucked underneath him. She laughed and pushed lightly at him, and he moved to lay on his side, paws curled to show her his stomach, baring his vulnerable throat.

“He likes you,” Eden commented idly from up on the bed. “Pretty sure that’s wolf for ‘you’re cool, let’s be buds.’ Also I think it means he thinks you're in charge."

"I am in charge," Anaya said, voice haughty, but there was laughter lining every word. "It's good that both you boys know it."

Misae shifted back onto his stomach and curled back up until his tail covered his nose. Anaya smiled at the sight, reaching out to scratch the top of his head. Misae sighed, eyes drifting closed again. He relaxed under the gentle affection. “There you go. All right, what matters is that you're okay. Let’s try to get some sleep, yeah? All three of us.”

He watched her stand up, ears drooping as she climbed into the real bed, next to Eden. He watched her get under the blanket, laying next to Eden. He laid on the floor where wolves belonged, missing the warmth of his family. Missing the den. Alone, here, on the ground. Werewolves weren't meant to be alone - he knew that, not from Bill or Austin but from how perfect it had felt in the den, in the kennels, when they were all together.

Anaya turned off the lamp, and darkness overtook the room.

The humans, he thought, would be blind in the dark. Misae could see everything, though. He could see the silvery moonlight held back by the curtains, could see Eden’s chest rise and fall, slowing as he slipped into sleep. He could see that Anaya stayed awake a while longer.

He listened to her breathing, holding back his whimpers until it slowed and deepened and he knew he wouldn't wake her. He could lay here, alone.

Well.

Not entirely alone.

His family was here, even if they weren’t. They would never leave him, not fully, not all the way. Even now he could feel them nosing around him trying to find a comfortable spot. He knew the pressure of their bodies around him like he knew his own paws. He could feel their chill breath on his neck, the soft nuzzle of affection that he would never really feel again. He could sense snuffles and whines, jostles for position that sometimes ended with playful snarling and rumbling growls. He could feel Nina’s weight on top of him. Feel her body jerk with the shots she had taken that he hadn’t. He could hear them, in his heart, howling just outside the little house.

He could hear their cries, begging him to join them. He should have slept for the last time in the big grave with the rest of them. He had been meant to die with his family. He wasn't the fastest in his family, the smartest, the best hunter. He wasn't anything better than anyone else.

There was no reason for him to survive, no special ability or way of being he had that made him deserve this bed with its soft blankets when everyone he loved was quiet and cold in the ground, covered in dirt and decomposing now.

He hadn’t deserved to meet kind humans. He didn’t deserve to eat pizza until his stomach ached and sit in chairs. He didn't deserve hot water to clean the dirt and blood from his skin. Others in his pack had deserved it so much more, and they had been given silver bullets instead, and now...

Now Misae was the only one left who remembered them.

He closed his eyes against the way the darkness wanted to change shape, to make him see his dead family with all the blood and bullets. He listened to their wistful, spectral howls, just outside the window. Calling and calling and calling, crying to him and to each other.

Why you? Why not us, instead? Why not the little pups, why not the mothers, why not the older wolves who had been good for so long? You were never all that good. What about you deserved to live? Why not us?

Why was it you?

Anaya and Eden slept together.

Misae slept with ghosts.

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