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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

With only the two of us left, the list left no mystery, as
our awareness of each other was now fully joined. That
awareness transcended even the traditional formality of
the name-giving, which was always supplied as the wolf’s
prosaic name, what was given to them at birth, not the more
hard-earned moniker that followed. The moment I set my
sight upon the name, William Grin, I knew it was Jack. It
was as if the name itself were merely a mask, and the time
for masks and hiding had passed away. I did not wonder if he
was as pleased as I was for the knowledge, because I knew
the answer to that, too. I could feel his excitement at the
prospect of a proper playmate, a Wolf as beholden to dream
as he. Of course, the distinctions between our dreams could
not be starker or portentous in their coming into being. This
latest reason was my confidence, as my quest held more to
gain, for everyone.
Jack’s dream, it seemed to me, was just the want to
progress down a dead-end tunnel, largely uninterrupted but
for the lovely orange holiday he would celebrate en route to
the bitter end. I didn’t suppose my purpose better supported
by fate, only that our respective hearts would be more or
less involved in the fight due to the grandness of potential
gains. But even this perspective supplied only a dash of
self-confidence, as I knew my opponent was not limited to a
logical interpretation of his dream—as is only appropriate,
after all.

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