He did not so much speak as take the words and place them, one by one, behind my eyes, beneath my scalp. I can feel them there now.

Ronnie started again. “When they came for me, asked me to help Lily, I did not want to go. These were women's matters. But I came and I looked and I saw what the others had seen. The baby had come, the baby had died. I saw this. But I also saw something else, something else no one saw, something Lily had hoped I would see. I could see the child's spirit floating just above him, in the dark. You know what this looks like?”

Yes. I do. And I could see Lily's baby, just as well as I could see the boy from the balloon. I could see blood and hair and tiny hands and-

Ronnie was shaking his head. He held up a hand, palm up. “Like this,” he said.

“Like what?” I asked, staring at Ronnie's face, not his hand.

“A breath,” Ronnie said. “The boy was dead, maybe they thought he was born dead, but he had taken a breath, a single breath-did you know this?-and when I got there, it was still hanging in the air above him.”

“Ronnie-”

“No,” Ronnie said. “My wolf saw it, too, asked me if he should fetch it, take this spirit, this breath by the scruff of its neck, and plunge it back down inside the boy. The wolf looked at me. He asked me this. Lily was saying things, too. I did not hear. I just looked at the boy. The wolf looked at me. Then he lunged.”

Ronnie had been staring before him as he said this. Now he turned.

“But I was too quick for him. I was younger then. Faster. With two feet. I sprang for his spirit, that breath. I jumped and I got it.” Ronnie made a sudden fist and then opened his hand once more.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I jumped before the wolf. Because I understood. I thought I understood what the wolf did not. This boy was not to live here. Within him ran Yup'ik blood, but also the blood of another place. And I knew that this blood would be the end of us. Just as I knew when I first saw you and the priest before you and the priest before him. Such new blood would be the end of us. The end of how the Yup'ik lived.Yup'ik: this means the real people. This child was not real. I saw this. I knew this. When I saw the boy, when I saw his father.”

Worse than hearing this was believing it, and I tried to stop: “You were there, Ronnie? You were really there? This isn't alcohol or diabetes or-”

“You have the proof,” Ronnie said.

We stared at each other.

And I almost wish it had ended that way. That each of us, in turn, would feel our eyelids droop and close, our jaws go slack, and then, slowly at first, but with ever-increasing speed, our life seep out of us and into the floor.

But it didn't.

“When the wolf left, I knew I had done wrong,” Ronnie said. “I took the breath, I went to the boy-but it had been too long now, and without the wolf, I could not plunge his breath deep enough inside him. Lily only knew-Lily only knew that I tried. She saw my tears and saw my failure, but did not see all of it. Lou-is: when her lover came, this Saburo, when she asked me to help him out of town, help him deliver the baby's body into the tundra? Yes. I would never say no again.

“One of the aunties had talked-there were soldiers, police, everywhere. We almost got caught, several times. We took two kayaks; I led him an hour downriver, and from there, he insisted he go on alone. You would know the place? Where the bank is worn away? Where the ircenrrat gather? He said to wait there for him, that he would come back, return the map-the path Lily might take to see their son.” Ronnie shook his head. “Why there?”

“I know it,” I said quietly. “I know the place.”

“It was not a place I could go, not then, not after my tuunraq had left me, run before me and set all the other spirits against me. I could feel them coming, worming through the ayuq, the soil, down the bank, to the water. I ran for my kayak, I started upstream.”

“You left Saburo?”

“He found me,” Ronnie said. “I took the map from him, but-but by the time he caught up with me, I'd almost made it back to Bethel. A boat-with a light-it saw us. I went to shore, into the cottonwood. Saburo went downriver. I heard yelling, shots, then nothing.”

I waited before speaking.

“What did Lily say when she saw the map?” I asked.

“I couldn't face her, not then,” Ronnie said. “Not after what I knew had happened to Saburo. I found some gin. Then more gin. I got drunk. Police came. And when I woke up in my cell, the book was gone. I at least gave Lily and Saburo this: I would not let them beat the truth out of me. I played the drunk fool, said I had no idea where the map came from, what it meant.” Ronnie scrunched his face at the memory. “I was the drunk fool,” he said, and looked at me, shrugged. “Proof.”

I shook my head. Ronnie smiled, exhausted, and looked outside.

“The wolf, he's closer,” Ronnie said. “Not close enough.” The window looked the way our televisions up here used to before satellite: snow swirling against a dark screen, pressing to get in. “But you'll help him, Lou-is, won't you? Give him what he's coming for.” Ronnie paused, tried to smile once more. “Tell him he's late.”

“Ronnie,” I said, on my feet, desperate to stop him. Or the wolf. “It's no good, Ronnie-wait. I don't believe-”

Ronnie looked at his wrist. “I need the bracelet,” he said.

I slowly shook my head.

“I need it for the wolf,” he said.

“Not yet,” I said.

“I need it to tie him to me. I'm not going to let him escape again this time.”

“Ronnie,” I said.

“Lou-is,” Ronnie said. “What have I asked?”

I sat silent, then reached in my pocket, took out the pyx, opened it, and removed the bracelet. I unraveled it as carefully as if it were a chain of diamonds and then affixed it to his wrist. “Let's pray,” I said, not looking up.

Ronnie looked pleased, and shook his head. “I can't pray if I don't believe, Lou-is.”

I couldn't answer, only taunt: “Well, I'm getting ready to go after your wolf, and I don't exactly believe in him, so-”

“It's okay,” Ronnie interrupted. “He believes in you.” He smiled, but to himself, and then lay back on the pillow. “Now,” he said, the word coming quite clearly, “this is what you must give him-” But here his voice faltered again. He went down, deep in his chest to find his breath, to cough it out once more, but this time it did not come.

I shouted. I shook him. I ran to the hall. I called for help. I was crying, tears actually running down my face, my old man's face. I dropped the side rail. I bent over him. And then-

I breathed. Once, twice. My mouth to his. Then my hands on his chest. One, two, three, four, five. But it was no good: the bed was too soft. Sometimes there was a board beneath you could pull out for CPR. I couldn't find it. I thought about dragging him onto the floor, but there wasn't enough time. Jesus, Mary, and you, too, Joseph. Breathe. Again to his chest. One, two, three, four-I could hear footsteps, voices behind me.

Thank you, Lord, for this: for the help of doctors and nurses, for those who can truly bring the dead back to life. I explained between breaths, between compressions, what I was doing, how I was saving him, how I needed help. I was on the verge of saying why-of saying that I needed to save him from the wolf, or for the wolf, or that I needed to keep him alive long enough to tell me, an old priest, a believer, one baptized in the waters of everlasting life, just what it was that I had to give this wolf.

They pulled me away from Ronnie. I fought, but they pulled me away-and I decided: they know best. They know better than I: they are the professionals; they are younger. Let them breathe, let them save him.

They did not.

“Father! Stop!” I think this is what I heard as they struggled with me. “Father-what are you doing? You have to-” I think I may have hit someone at this point, but, let's be clear, I did not bite, did not bite at one of them. “You have to respect his wishes.” A nurse held up his wrist and the Comfort One bracelet, but I couldn't see it. I know it was there, but I couldn't see it. I could only hear it clink and wink and laugh at me, and then I couldn't hear it at all, because I was running, down the hall, out the doors, into the snow, off to the wolf.