Page 91 of The Grey Wolf
Armand heard the door swing shut behind him, then the key turn. He was now locked out. Or was it in? In the world. Out of the cloister.
The sun wasn’t yet even a suggestion. Instead, the night sky was splayed with stars, from horizon to horizon. Armand looked up and took a deep breath of the cool fresh air, and thought of Reine-Marie and his family, asleep at home, safe at home, under the same stars.
He’d planned to sit on a large flat stone on the shore and look out at the calm lake, perhaps even dangle his bruised foot in the cold water, and think about next steps. Once back in Montréal, they’d have to move quickly and decisively.
But instead of sitting, Armand remembered the advice of Saint Augustine.It is solved by walking.And so, Armand Gamache went for a walk.
He took the narrow dirt path away from the lake and into the woods. It was dark, but far less disorienting than the complete silence of the abbey. It reminded him of early-morning strolls in the woods outside Three Pines with Reine-Marie and the dogs, and Gracie.
His hands behind his back holding the rolled-up map, and his head bowed slightly, Armand walked and thought. And thought. And…
A thought came to him.
Frère Simon had said a letter had arrived for Sébastien, from the Vatican. And then one for Dom Philippe a few weeks later from Sébastien, also on Vatican stationary. Simon was sure about that. Even if he hadn’t opened the letter, the emblem on the envelope would have been unmissable.
And yet the Keeper of the Keys had said there’d been no such letters.
Which meant either the Keeper was lying, or Simon was lying, or—
There was a sound off to his right. He stopped to look but couldn’t see anything.
Then he heard it again. Movement. Being used to the sounds of a forest, Armand was not alarmed. But then he heard something else that made him freeze.
A low growl.
Slowly, carefully, taking out his phone, Armand dropped the map and put on the flashlight. Two bright eyes were staring at him, not twenty meters away.
There was another, deeper, longer guttural growl.
Armand’s heart leaped in his chest and sweat broke out on his forehead.
It was a wolf.
He put his arms out wide, making himself appear as big as possible. Perhaps the light from his phone would blind it. Or at least scare it away.
But the creature was made of sterner stuff.
The wolf took one slow, careful, almost delicate step forward. Then another. So close now Armand could see its raised hackles and the yellow of its bared teeth.
Their eyes locked. Do you stare into the eyes of a wild animal? Or look away? Should he growl back?
He had no idea. But he’d better decide quickly.
This would not be solved by walking. Or even running. Saint Augustine suddenly seemed not so brilliant.Nor, thought Armand,am I.If he died now, it wouldn’t be the wolf’s fault. He’d have been killed by stupidity.
Idiot, idiot, idiot.He hoped that was not going to be his last thought.
Idiot.
Then both man and wolf turned their heads, at another sound. Something else was approaching. Something even bigger.Oh, God, thought Armand.It’s a bear.
“Patron?”
The wolf turned back to Armand, gave another low growl, then bounded off into the thick forest.
“Armand?” said Jean-Guy, approaching through the woods. “Was that a coyote?”
“A wolf.” He was panting as though he’d run a great distance and realized he’d been holding his breath.
