"He knows we're here," my eyes sweep the tree line. "He's cornered and panicking. There's only one place left to flee to."
Jeremy meets my eyes slowly, understanding what I am saying. I watch Alfie pick up a piece of dry wood, holding it over the newly erected fire. The pieces supporting it are from surrounding, meager homes, like mine that lies closer to the woods.
"Alpha!" Alfie calls, holding the makeshift torch out to me, "you want the honors?"
I near him, taking the burning piece of wood in my hand as I turn. My feet are on autopilot as I walk towards my former shabby home and I place my free hand on the rough wood of the entrance door. My heart swells in a way that I cannot describe, and I take the time to memorize the grain of the wood. My father had helped build this house.