Goldboro backed away from the wolf slowly. The baby in her arms awoke and let forth a shrill shriek, which Goldboro stifled by pressing the infant's face against her breasts. Another wolf stepped from the darkness, followed by another and another, as though drawn by the infant's cries. Soon Goldboro was surrounded by wolves, even the smallest standing higher than her waist. She turned round, looking for some break in their ranks, a gap through which she could escape. The baby squirmed against her breast, as though trying to break free; Goldboro glanced down at it. If the priest hadn't forced it into her arms as he led her from the village, she would've left the damned thing behind. As she looked at the child, it gurgled and reached an arm toward her face.

It looked just like its father.

She hurled the infant at the nearest wolf, which jumped up to catch the baby in its jaws. Several other wolves joined it, tearing at arms and legs. For a moment the baby shrieked before one of the wolves tore its throat out.

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