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to be caused by any small animal or bird. He heard a snort, then a whine. What could be that big and sound that odd? An injured buffalo?
    “Hello?” Aiden called out as he crept up to the edge of the bluff. “Is someone there?”
    Now he was answered with a vigorous sob—reassuringly human. He stood up and saw Polly Hollingford, crying like she had been stabbed through the heart.
    “What's wrong? Are you all right?” Aiden slid down the little hill but stopped a cautious distance from the girl.
    “Of course,” Polly sniffed. “Go away.”
    “You're not hurt?”
    “No, I just want to be alone!”
    Aiden had never thought of Polly as the type for contemplative solitude.
    “Um, this isn't the best place for that, really,” he said awkwardly. “It's getting dark.”
    “Thank you. I would never have noticed that,” she snapped.
    “It's just—it isn't safe.”
    “You're alone.”
    “Well, yes, but you're a girl.”
    “Just go away.” Polly started to cry harder. Her shoulders heaved as she drew great snuffling breaths. Aiden glanced around for her sister, Annie, or anyone else better suited to fix a crying girl, but there was no one in sight.
    “What's the matter?” he asked warily.
    “Everything!” Polly sobbed. “Everything's the matter! I hate it out here! It's horrible. Everything is filthy and dull and dusty and awful.”
    Aiden squatted down on his heels, careful to keep well away. He was pretty sure he would be included in the filthy, dusty and awful part.
    “Mr. Jackson says the Rocky Mountains are grand.”
    “I don't want mountains! I want my friends and nice things again. I want dancing and parties and musical concerts.”
    “There's probably a music hall in Seattle.”
    “Oh, you are such a stupid boy!” She wiped her eyes on her skirt. “This is the worst place in the world.”
    “We—um, we have some books you can borrow,” he offered. “The
Atlas of the World
is very good. It takes your mind different places.”
    Polly looked as if she were going to bite his head off, but then just started crying again. Aiden sighed.
    “Well, at any rate, it won't last forever.” He stood up. “Come on, I'll walk with you back to camp.” He offered hishand to help her up, but she sniffed haughtily and took hold of a little shrub instead. Aiden had to turn his face and work not to laugh as the roots ripped right out of the crumbly hillside, sprinkling a shower of dirt on her. She brushed angrily at her dress and hair.
    “Oh!” Polly scrambled awkwardly to her feet.
    “Shush!” Aiden said suddenly.
    “Don't tell me to—”
    “Quiet!”
    “What is it?” Polly asked, her voice rising with fear.
    “Not sure,” Aiden said quietly. All around him the twilight felt electrified, like the air just before a storm. “Don't get nervous, but it could be wolves.” He couldn't pick out a specific sound, but all around there were little noises that didn't belong to a calm prairie night.
    “Wolves!” Polly screeched. Aiden quickly threw his hand across her mouth.
    “Quiet!”
    Polly shoved his arm with surprising strength.
    “No one will hear us down here.” Aiden's heart was beating hard, but he tried to keep calm. “If you scream you'll just sound like some wounded animal and get the wolves all fired up.”
    In the gathering darkness, he saw three pairs of glowing yellow eyes appear in the riverbed. Likely there were more on the bluff above them. Wolves were smart hunters who surrounded their prey and attacked from all sides.
    “I'll tell you when to scream,” he whispered. Polly nodded slowly, her eyes wide with fright. Aiden took his hand off her mouth.
    “Why don't you have a gun?” Polly whispered angrily
    “I'm good with the bow.”
    “You should have a gun!”
    “Well, I don't.”
    “Can you kill them?” Polly's voice was high and strained.
    Aiden swallowed. He was a good shot, but five good shots wouldn't get all these wolves. “Some,” he said. “One, yes, maybe two.