Summer of the Wolves (6 page)

Except for the beeping, they walked in silence now. She could tell by his face that something was bugging him.

The beeping was suddenly louder. Ian held his hand down, his listening posture signaling her not to speak. She dropped beside him as he hunched down behind a grove of scrubby Christmassy trees. Ahead, taller trees provided shade along a ridge of rock.

“We're close,” Ian said in a whisper. “The den is through there, in the side of that ridge near an open area. We're pretty sure she had pups this year.”

Pups? Prickles of sweat and excitement ran up and down Nika's back and shoulders. She moved a bit closer to Ian.

They waited for a minute or two. Several fat flies dive-bombed Nika's head. Maybe the wolf was watching them.

“The signal should be moving,” Ian said in the same hoarse whisper. He hunched over and moved toward the shade of the large trees, gesturing with his hand that she should stay. No way was she staying by herself with a wolf nearby! She followed, almost stepping on his heels. Off to her right she saw a glint. She tapped Ian's back and pointed. He moved over to the object.

It was a beer can, shiny and new. She was puzzled. What was garbage doing in a remote place like this?

Ian put the can in a plastic bag tied to the side of his pack. He seemed angry. Farther along they found candy wrappers, and another can. Ian stuffed it all into the bag, holding up a hand to remind her to be quiet.

Then abruptly he stood up straight and swore. Apparently they weren't sneaking up on anything anymore. On the ground not far ahead of them was the body of a blackish animal wearing a collar, and it wasn't moving.

Ian reached the wolf first and stood for a long time staring. Nika crowded behind him as he knelt down.

“It's number three-three-two,” he said in a quiet voice, “and she's dead. Her stationary signal. I wondered. This part of my job isn't very nice.” He took tools from his pack and unbolted a worn collar from the wolf, setting it aside. The collar was heavy leather and canvas, with an attached rectangular box. She guessed the box must be the transmitter that sent out the beeps.

She made herself focus on number 332. The wolf had a rich coat of black with speckles of gray. Her forehead was broad, and her muzzle long. The front feet were bigger than Nika's hand, too big for the graceful long legs. Her body was slightly flattened in death. Her nipples had bare skin around them. Nika reached out to touch the soft fur on her neck. She was so beautiful. She was so big. Nika felt both shocked and confused. If Ian was in charge of studying wolves, why couldn't he prevent this?

“I have to examine her, Nika. I'm pretty sure she was shot, but there's more I need to know. Number three-three-two has been in my study nine years, longer than any other wolf,” Ian said sadly, still looking at the motionless body. He placed the pack between his knees and started to unload equipment. “I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have brought you along.” He gave her an apologetic look, then took a leather case from his pack and slammed it on the ground. He stood up and turned around, facing away from her.

Nika figured he was telling her to leave him alone to do his job.

“I'll just sit on that rock over there for a while, okay?” she said. She didn't know what to say to him about the wolf.

“Sure. Fine.” Then he added as she walked away, “At least we know for sure she had pups this year.”

Nika spun in her tracks, came back, and squatted down. “Where are they?” she asked. If there were pups, they had to do something.

“I don't know,” he said. “They probably weren't very old. Could be someone killed number three-three-two just to steal them.”

“Is that legal?” Outrage filled her voice. She looked off into the woods. Maybe the wolf killer was still out there.

“Actually, no. It's pretty hard to prove, though.”

Ian sat back on his heels for a minute. “I really shouldn't have brought you along,” he repeated. “I'm really sorry. I'm used to this, but—”

“What about the pups?” she asked again, her eyes searching the forest.

“Most likely they're gone, or dead.”

Nika walked away from the dead wolf and Ian. She folded down on the moss of the forest floor and leaned against a huge fallen pine, feeling the comfort of its bulk. She would just hang out within hearing distance and wait.

 

Nika tried to keep her mind off what Ian was doing. But finally an irrational panic that he might leave caused her to leap to her feet and go to the spot where the wolf had been killed. When she came up behind Ian's bent back, she saw a bloody mess where the beautiful wolf had been. One hand went up to her mouth, and she froze, a grunt of revulsion jammed in her throat.

The wolf was cut open from the chest down to her abdomen, and Ian was examining the exposed area. Dark red blood covered his gloved hands. The bottles beside him were taped and marked, filled with pieces of the wolf. “All of her organs were healthy,” he said.

There was no warning this time, and no bag. She threw up, then threw up again, missing Ian's boots by only a few inches.

Ian jumped to his feet, stripped off his bloody gloves, and took her by the shoulders, guiding her to a large rock where he sat her down. He went back to his pack and came back with a can of Pepsi and popped the top.

“Not very cold, no room for ice,” he said, holding it out. “A little gross, huh? Obviously, I didn't expect this.”

Duh? “Well yeah, but I've seen stuff before,” Nika said in a dull voice, looking away, then sneaking a look back again. Yeah, she'd seen a dead squirrel. And a cut-up frog once. She swallowed hard, then swallowed again, and took a drink of lukewarm Pepsi.

She squeezed out the words “What did you find?”

“Two bullets. I'll send them to the lab . . . And now I'm checking to see what she's been eating. I took tissue samples to look for parasites or diseases. Looks like she was facing the shooter,” he said. “The ground around her was undisturbed, which means to me that the shooter never touched the body. Just shot her and left.”

When he finished the autopsy and cleaned up, he put his tools into the leather case and packed the bottles, stuffing the radio collar into a side pocket. His movements were quick, as though he wanted to get away from this place, something Nika could really understand.

“You're going to bury her, aren't you?” Nika asked. She had begun to shiver.

“What?” he said, then seemed to realize she was serious. “Well. That's a nice idea, but the ground here is mostly rock. It would take a bulldozer to bury her deep enough to keep other animals from digging her up. Scavengers will find her body, and she will return to the earth naturally. Stay here,” he said. “I'm going to check something.” He walked away in the direction of the clearing.

A hot flush of anger caused Nika to back up, almost tripping. Was he the kind of person to leave what had once been a beautiful animal to rot on the ground? She scraped up armloads of moss and leaves, making several trips to cover as much of the body as she could. At least she'd tried to do something.

Then she kicked at ferns and bushes as she blindly marched back in the general direction they'd come, carrying her Pepsi, her stomach still unsettled. Out of sight of the dead wolf, she stopped and sat down to wait.

But when Ian didn't come, Nika began to feel anxious. She didn't know how long he had been gone. It suddenly felt like a long time. She walked back to the dead wolf's body, stood, and shouted, “Hey, Ian!”

Birds fluttered in dry leaves on the ground. She heard a scraping sound and jumped.

“Ian!” she called, panic rising in her voice.

Then she saw a movement across the clearing. It was Ian, and he was on his knees.

As she moved nearer, he stood up. His face was strangely lit. His clothes were smudged with reddish dirt and bloodstains.

Behind him she could see a tunnel, possibly the wolf's den. Rocks framed the dark entrance. She glanced quickly around for signs of carnage. Nothing.

She looked at Ian again, and his shirt was bulgy.

For a moment his face clouded. “Whoever that stupid jackass was, maybe he left fingerprints on the cans.”

The bulge moved.

“Now for the good news. The idiot missed the back corner of the den.” He pulled something from his shirt. For a few moments with background music of birdsong and wind, Nika forgot to breathe.

 

When the silvery-tan wolf tasted new smells and felt new fear, she ran some more. After days of hunger, she tracked the scent of meat. She approached slowly and sniffed. The quick pain of a snare around her foreleg enraged the wolf She twisted and turned and snapped, then finally collapsed, exhausted. Later, a man lunged at her. She crouched, lifted her lips, and curled onto her back. He jabbed her and covered her head.

Nika stared at the black-brown sausage of fur with stubby legs cupped in Ian's hands. It had a small wrinkled face, with ears curled down like tiny closed fists.

“The other pups are gone,” he said. He turned the pup over, and it squealed and kicked. “It's a male.”

She gazed at the pup, amazed by its wildness. It wasn't soft and appealing like dog puppies she had known, with glistening fur and tongue-licked soft ears. She was so lost in the mysteries of the small animal that she hardly heard Ian when he said, “Nika, did you hear me?”

“Sorry, what?” she answered.

“I'm conflicted about this.”

“About what?” she answered. The pup was squirming in Ian's hands.

“Well, I should probably let nature take its course.”

Nika gave him a fierce look.

“Usually I would. But it isn't a usual situation, the mother being shot.” He seemed uncertain. “Also, I suppose the pup is young enough to be socialized for an educational facility. Even if we take him, he still might die. He'll never live wild again.”

He had her attention now. The whole world turned a click. Her mouth open, she gaped at Ian.

With sudden urgency he said, “We've got to warm him up. Here. Hold him.”

She reached out and gently pulled the pup close, cradling it in her arms, smelling its sharp earthy smell. Its fur was caked with reddish dirt. The soft inner layer of fur was clay colored, the outer layer dark and coarse. Its round belly seemed too big for its body. The small face poked into the folds of her shirt, making little grunts and groans. It was surprisingly strong.

“Okay. You need to carry him against your skin. He's scared. Warmth will calm him,” Ian said.

“You mean me?” she asked.

“You heard the ‘next to your skin' part, right?” Ian answered.

Nika could no longer make words. She nodded, then nodded again.

Ian raised his eyebrows and said, “Well, let me help you.” He instructed her how to tuck the little wolf under her T-shirt and her anorak so the pup could snuggle against her. He tied the sleeves of her flannel shirt like a belt around the bottom of the anorak, to keep the pup from slipping out. “The little pouch will do the trick,” he said, surveying their work.

Like a mama kangaroo,
Nika thought. Unbelievable. The scratchy warmth and the cold nose bumping her bare belly was one of the best feelings she had ever experienced. As she cradled the shivering bulge with her hands, it quieted.

Nika moved with new purpose now. It was strange how alive she felt with this woolly bundle against her. Something flowed between her and the pup as it swayed with her motion. She fell into the rhythm of Ian's footsteps. Stepping over logs and around rocks, her feet began to feel more agile and certain as they retraced their trail to the beach.

When they reached the beach and were waiting for Maki, Nika asked, “Who would do this?”

“There's a guy from Red Pine who's been known to sell pups illegally. People buy them as pets. He breeds wolves with dogs, too. He once bred foxes for fur, but they all died. It could be him. The authorities shut him down from time to time, but he always gets more animals. He's got problems, hates the government, rants and raves at people on the street.” Ian passed a water bottle to Nika. She shifted one hand under the pup, using the other to tip the bottle for a long drink.

“What about the other pups?” she asked.

“I'm sure he wouldn't keep them long. Wouldn't want someone to trace the pups to him. He's been in jail before.”

“What about the male? The dad wolf? I thought you said mates stayed together.”

“He could have been shot, too. Since he wasn't collared, we'll never know.”

Nika glanced down at the lump under her shirt. “How old is he?”

“I'd say less than two weeks. The eyes usually open at about twelve to fourteen days, and his aren't open yet. Which is perfect, really, because we have him before he starts a stage called fear avoidance, something that will happen about the time he opens his eyes. They use their senses, mostly their sense of smell, to recognize the members of their pack. They call it bonding. In humans, it's bonding when a newborn baby attaches to his mom.”