I ran from the pack of wolves. This was the fifth straight week of wolf attacks. This felt different somehow, something was wrong. Then I realized, the ground was wet. My heart pounded in my chest. It had rained last night. That meant the river was roaring. Which meant my way back to the cabin was blocked. The wolves were getting closer now. I had to think quick, but I new there was little hope. My only chance was to try to swim toward to the other bank. As I closed in on the bank, I saw the river, it was overflowing. My chances were getting slimmer by the second. I heard the wolves behind me. I gathered my courage and jumped. The water was ice cold. I pushed aside the coldness of the water and swam for the opposite bank. I started to feel the strong current taking me downstream, and my hope, strength, and willpower was draining out of me fast. Then I felt the bottom of the rocky river. I dug my feet into the ground, scraping skin. Working my way over to the other side of the river, the coldness set in with a chill. When I reached the other side, I knew I had to get moving to prevent hypothermia. Running towards the cabin, I felt feeling return to my body. I saw the cabin, and Mom was waiting for me, with a towel as well.

My mom’s face looked livid, as I told her what I was doing. I was out on my day’s training, and my dad made me run, with wolves chasing me. My mom looked even more livid as I told the story. “I Told him to protect you, not train, or even kill you.” My mom said. She calmed down and gave me some tea, more to ease her anxiety than mine. Mothers will always be there for you.