Melanie stared, stared into the massive arctic barren wasteland. The ice was everywhere, coating the once visible ground in a film of protective chill. Protecting it from what, Melanie didn’t know. A howl ripped through the frozen badlands. Melanie shivered, not stopping to wonder where it had come from. She already knew. It was the Wolves. She hoped she’d get farther before they’d caught her trail, but alas, her luck wasn’t going to change so soon.
They had been chasing her since the Toronto incident, when her brother, Tom, had set off the bomb. The explosion had killed Mr. Carver. No doubt, that was the reason they were chasing them, hunting them. Melanie and Tom could always stop, always surrender, give in to the madmen that had taken their mother from them. But this was war, and you never give up unless you’re left with no choice.
Melanie took Tom’s hand and started running, running for her life, Tom’s life, the lives of everyone who would die if they didn’t win this war. Jonas, Mr. Burman, Chloe, Sally Anne, Ole Johnson Harris were all counting on them. Melanie began to wish that they hadn’t left that car at the airport in Montreal. They were never going to outrun the menacing cries of the Wolves. Tears solidified halfway down her face as she sprinted across the frozen tundra, practically dragging Tom behind her. She couldn’t feel her nose; her fingers and toes were frostbitten; and her eyelashes caught snowflakes before they could reach the ground.
Melanie came to a sudden halt. There was something in front of her. Not something, someone, she thought. She found herself trapped as she saw the face of the man in front of her. She thought he was dead. He couldn’t be alive; she’d seen the remains of the building he’d been in, blown to pieces, nothing had been spared. Tom became paralyzed when he saw the reason why Melanie had stopped, for directly in front of the twin siblings stood Mr. Carver, alive and healthy as ever.
They had been chasing her since the Toronto incident, when her brother, Tom, had set off the bomb. The explosion had killed Mr. Carver. No doubt, that was the reason they were chasing them, hunting them. Melanie and Tom could always stop, always surrender, give in to the madmen that had taken their mother from them. But this was war, and you never give up unless you’re left with no choice.
Melanie took Tom’s hand and started running, running for her life, Tom’s life, the lives of everyone who would die if they didn’t win this war. Jonas, Mr. Burman, Chloe, Sally Anne, Ole Johnson Harris were all counting on them. Melanie began to wish that they hadn’t left that car at the airport in Montreal. They were never going to outrun the menacing cries of the Wolves. Tears solidified halfway down her face as she sprinted across the frozen tundra, practically dragging Tom behind her. She couldn’t feel her nose; her fingers and toes were frostbitten; and her eyelashes caught snowflakes before they could reach the ground.
Melanie came to a sudden halt. There was something in front of her. Not something, someone, she thought. She found herself trapped as she saw the face of the man in front of her. She thought he was dead. He couldn’t be alive; she’d seen the remains of the building he’d been in, blown to pieces, nothing had been spared. Tom became paralyzed when he saw the reason why Melanie had stopped, for directly in front of the twin siblings stood Mr. Carver, alive and healthy as ever.
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