The wolf brought the funeral of a six-year-old girl to a grinding halt. What happened next left everyone present stunned to their core. His howl pierced the frozen morning air, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.
In the snow-covered cemetery, standing among the dark silhouettes of the mourners, was a massive white wolf. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on the small white casket where Emma lay, looking like a sleeping angel. The beast moved forward with measured steps, placed a heavy paw on the edge of the casket, and lowered his muzzle toward her face.
The crowd gasped; someone shouted, “Call the police!” but the wolf showed no aggression. He simply let out a long, mournful howl, as if trying to call her back. The Montana winter had been brutal this year, burying the small town in drifts that seemed to stop time itself.
On the day of six-year-old Emma’s funeral, the temperature had plummeted well below zero. The sky was a dull slate gray, the air thick with frost. Emma had been a bright child, with blonde hair and eyes the color of a clear morning sky.
Her father, Captain David, had been killed in the line of duty while serving overseas, saving his unit in the process. Her mother passed away shortly after in a tragic highway accident. Since then, Emma had lived with her Uncle Mike and Aunt Linda—people who were more interested in appearances than affection, but they were her only remaining kin.
Mike was a local rancher whose family had once owned vast stretches of fertile land. But now, a massive bank debt hung over him like a shadow. Linda was a cold, calculating woman who matched the winter they lived in: polished on the outside, but ice-cold within.
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