Chapter
Four
Jillian sat on her heels and gazed at her find
for a long time. Wolf prints. There were honest-to-God wolves
living here. Giddiness and a bone-deep reverence mixed chaotically
within her as she unpacked her camera and strained to find an angle
that would give enough contrast. Only after she’d shot several
frames did her excitement allow her to realize something unusual
about these prints. The sand sparkled slightly as Jillian traced
the outline of one print with her finger in wonder. It was more
than merely large. Including the claws, it
was as big as her entire hand. Nothing she had ever read, nothing
she had ever seen, prepared her for the sheer size of the animal.
Jillian knew some Alaskan wolves could top 175 pounds. But
this creature? The hair on the back of her
neck prickled as she found a quarter in one of her pockets, set it
by one of the untouched paw prints as a size reference, and shot
the last of her film.
Jillian scanned the ground around the
rocks and quickly discovered dozens more prints. All were on the
large side, but there were enough variations in size to indicate
several wolves, likely a pack. The sand revealed plenty of shoe
prints too, also of varying sizes. She identified no less than five
distinctive treads, from assorted sneakers to hiking boots.
Somebody had been barefoot too. But the prints were all mixed
together, and she was unable to discern which had come to this spot
first, the humans or the wolves.
Probably the humans, she thought. If
they had a fire, they probably had food. And if there had been
food, perhaps the wolves had simply followed their noses and
checked it out after the humans left. Jillian’s stomach reminded
her once more that it was empty. She straightened, blinked, and
realized she’d been squinting at the prints. The light had faded
considerably. It was past time to leave.
She put the camera away quickly,
fastened the errant water bottle to her pack, and set off down the
hill the way she had come. As much as she wanted to hurry, the
thick brush wouldn’t permit it. The game trail was narrow,
crisscrossed with other narrow trails and fallen trees. Nothing
looked familiar in the fading light and she had to concentrate to
choose the right direction, focus to place her feet carefully. One
wrong step along this steep, rugged path and she would have a lot
more to worry about than the dark.
What kind of woman runs
after a wolf?
James was no closer to answering that
question than he had been many hours before when he had paused in
the clinic loft, two bounds away from the open window, and listened
to the human calling after the white wolf. He had been startled to
find the woman up and around so close to dawn, but more surprised
by her reaction when she spotted him. She should have been
terrified, should have been screaming. Instead she had stopped
still, remaining quiet until he melted back into the darkness—then
had plunged forward in a vain attempt to follow him. She acted as
if she knew the wolf, but how could that be? There was something
else too; something in her voice had almost compelled him to—what?
Answer her? Reveal himself? He didn’t know. The woman had gone from
room to room then, switching on every light,
searching.
He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t
check the loft. After all, it was fifteen feet above the ground
floor and accessible only by a vertical ladder. A wolf couldn’t
climb it, and she had no way of knowing that what she pursued was
not a wolf and that the ladder was no impediment to him at all. The
stack of bales outside, from which he had initially leapt, was more
than thirty feet from the loading door of the loft. Only a very
large tiger might cross such a span. Or a Changeling.
James felt a strange disappointment
tugging at his senses, almost a regret that the woman had not found
him. Who are you? Why do I know you? Within
his lupine body, James chuffed out a breath in frustration.
And why do I care? The angle of the fading
light told him it was time to hunt, that deer would be on the move.
Weary of human thoughts and human concerns, he relaxed into his
wolf nature and disappeared beneath it.
“What a tourist I am!” Jillian berated
herself for not bringing a cell phone, for not paying more
attention to the time, for traveling in the bush alone, for not
packing at least a chocolate bar. Two chocolate bars. Maybe three.
The energy bars she’d brought tasted like wet cardboard. She made a
long mental list of the things she was going to do to be more
prepared for the next hike, because as difficult as the trail was,
she simply had to go back to that rocky plateau, had to see if the
wolves would return. Was it part of their territory or were they
just passing through?
The sun was long gone. Stars were
pinning a deep indigo sky, and a full moon was floating just above
the horizon. It had climbed enough to glimmer through the trees and
lay a broad swath of light over the surface of the river when
Jillian finally found the marked hiking trail. Compared to the goat
path she’d been traveling, the graveled corridor was like a wide
paved highway, level and free of overhanging brush and fallen logs.
It promised easier, faster travel in spite of the darkness. She was
still two and a half, maybe three, miles from the truck she had
borrowed from the clinic, but at least now she had a direct
route.
The flashback broadsided her without
warning.
It might have been the crunch of gravel
beneath her feet, the rustle of leaves in the trees, or the scent
of the river, but whatever the trigger, she was suddenly on another
trail by another river. Phantom images, sounds, even smells burst
vividly upon her senses. Jillian stumbled forward and fell to her
knees, skinning them both right through her jeans. She rolled and
sat, but clasped her hands to her head rather than to her wounds.
“Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes. You’re not there,
it’s not real, it’s over. Jesus, it’s over, it’s over and you’re
okay. You’re okay.” She spoke slowly, deliberately, coaching
herself until the shaking stopped. “It’s a different place and a
different time. I’m not back there, I’m here. I’m here and I’m
okay.” I’m okay, I’m okay.
But she wasn’t, not yet. She rocked
back and forth in the gravel. “My name is Jillian Descharme and I’m
a licensed veterinarian and I’m okay. I’m thirty-two years old and
I’m in Dunvegan, Alberta, and I’m okay. Nothing is threatening me,
nothing is wrong, I’m okay.” She drew a long shaky breath and
rubbed her runny nose with her sleeve like a child. “I’m okay.
Jeez! Jeez goddamn Louise!” She was cold, freezing cold, her
clothes soaked with sweat and her skin clammy, but the fear had her
by the throat and she couldn’t move. She had to think of something
fast, something to help her break away from this terror, break out
of this inertia or she’d be here all night. And then it came. The
image of the white wolf—the memory, the dream, flowed into her,
warmed her like brandy. Jillian clung to that mental picture like a
life preserver in rough seas, let the wolf ’s unspoken words fill
her mind and calm it. Not alone. Here with
you.
She rose at last on trembling legs and
cursed as her knees made their condition known. The sharp stinging
cleared the last of the flashback from her head however, banished
the nausea from her stomach. She stood for several moments, hugging
herself, rubbing her hands over her upper arms. She sucked in great
lungfuls of the cool moist air until she felt steady again, and
took a few tentative steps along the dark path—but had to resist
the impulse to run. If she ran, she might never stop.
“Think of the white wolf, think of the
white wolf.” Calm, she had to be calm. Take big breaths. “Walk like
a normal person. It’s okay to walk fast because I’m busy, got
things to do, places to go, people to see, but I don’t have to run.
I can walk because nothing’s wrong, I’m okay.” She was in control,
she would stay in control. As she walked, however, she couldn’t
stop her senses from being on hyper-alert. Jillian’s eyes flicked
rapidly from side to side, searching the darkness, her ears
straining to hear any rustle of leaf or snap of twig. She noticed
the tiny brown bats that dipped and whirled in the air above her.
She noted the calls of night birds, of loons settling and owls
hunting. A mouse hurried in front of her, crossing and recrossing
the path. A few moments later, a weasel followed it, in a slinky
rolling motion. Jillian was keenly aware of everything—the blood
pounding in her ears, the sound of her footsteps in the gravel, the
liquid sounds of the nearby river—but not the tree root bulging up
through the path.
She yelled in surprise, then in pain as
her knees hit the gravel again. She rolled to a sitting position,
cursing the sharp stinging and her own clumsiness—hadn’t she
just successfully negotiated a rugged game
trail down a steep hillside for heaven’s sake? She couldn’t see
much even with the moon’s light, but a quick examination showed
both knees were bleeding, her jeans in shreds. She cursed even more
as she picked out a few obvious shards of gravel, but cleaning and
bandaging were just going to have to wait until she reached the
truck. At least it wasn’t anything worse. Annoying, damn painful
and embarrassing, but not a broken ankle or snakebite. Her eyes
strayed to the underbrush in spite of herself—there weren’t any
poisonous snakes this far north, were there? “Good grief!” Jillian
yanked her mind firmly away from that train
of thought and was pondering whether it was possible to stand
without bending her knees when she heard the howl.
She sat bolt upright as if an electric
current had suddenly passed through her, every hair on end, every
sense alert. The call came again, closer. Deep, primal, long and
low. Drawn out and out and out, an ancient song, mournful yet
somehow sweet. When it fell silent, Jillian felt as if time itself
had stopped. And she found herself straining to hear the song
again, fascinated, even as her brain told her to run and instinct
told her to freeze.
The moon was higher now. The pale light
filtered down through the trees and laid a dappled carpet of silver
on the stony path. There was no wind, no breeze. Jillian held her
breath, listening, watching, but all was still. Her heart was
pounding hard with both excitement and fear. Normally she would
have loved to get a glimpse of a wolf in the wild, but the idea was
a lot less attractive when she was alone in the dark. There were
few recorded incidents of wolves attacking or killing humans, but
all the data in the world wasn’t very reassuring when she was
sitting there bleeding. Immediately she wished she hadn’t thought
of that. It was just a little blood, but she struggled to get the
image of a wounded fish in a shark tank out of her
head.
A movement at the edge of the path
beyond seized her attention. A pale shape emerged from the shadows,
seemed to coalesce in the moonlight and grow larger until it was a
vivid white creature of impossible size. Jillian’s heart stuck in
her throat as the great wolf slowly turned its massive head and
stared directly at her.
Oh, Jesus. She
had studied wolves more than any other wildlife, but only from
books and captive specimens. Wolves don’t attack humans, she
reminded herself. Wolves don’t attack humans—but there had been
cases in Alaska. She gritted her teeth and sat perfectly still,
afraid to breathe as the wolf began to slowly move in her
direction. The creature approached within ten feet, then abruptly
sat on its haunches and stared at her.
It was enormous. She swallowed hard,
realizing if the wolf attacked there would be nothing she could do.
Nothing. She wouldn’t even manage a scream before it was on her.
Not one bit of her martial arts training would help, especially
when she was sitting on the ground. Nevertheless she scanned the
ground with her peripheral vision for anything she might use as a
weapon. Her fingers inched toward a rock, closed around it as the
wolf rose, took a slow step toward her, into a pool of moonlight.
Instantly its snowy fur gleamed and its eyes were . . . its eyes
were. . . .
Blue.
Jillian felt as if the air had been
knocked from her body. The rock rolled out of her palm. Trembling,
shaking, she reached a tentative hand toward the animal. “You. It’s
you,” she choked out. “Oh, my God, it’s you, isn’t it? You’re
real.”
The wolf closed the gap between them
and licked her outstretched fingers. Omigod,
omigod. She couldn’t move at first, both enthralled and
terrified—until the animal nudged its head under her hand like a
dog asking to be petted. Jillian moved her fingers lightly across
the broad skull, scratching hesitantly at first. Then fear fell
away, and she worked both hands behind the sensitive ears, into the
glossy ruff. The wolf stood panting mildly, the immense jaws slack
and the great pink tongue lolling out in apparent pleasure. Jillian
had no illusions about the animal’s power—it might behave like a
big dog but those jaws could easily crack the leg bones of a moose,
those teeth could tear out the throat of a bull elk in full flight.
And as surely as she knew those facts, she knew the wolf would not
hurt her. It wasn’t sensible, it wasn’t logical, but the certainty
was core-deep. Instinct? Intuition? Insanity? She didn’t know and
didn’t care. The wolf held steady as Jillian wrapped her arms
around its great neck and buried her face in its thick white fur.
“I thought I dreamed you. You came to me. You came when no one
would come, but they all told me I dreamed you because no one saw
you but me. And I looked and looked for you, but I couldn’t find
you.”
Here now. Found
you.
The voice in her mind was real. The fur
beneath her hands and face was real. The heat radiating from the
wolf’s body was real. Her voice hitched as joy overwhelmed her.
“You’re in my dreams all the time. I’m so glad that you’re here,
that you exist.” And that I am not crazy.
Although her rational brain told her there was certainly something
crazy about being in the forest at night, hugging a giant wolf. But
she couldn’t think about that right now; she had this moment in
time and she had things to say. “I owe you a lot; you don’t know
how much you’ve done. You saved my life all those years ago, but
you saved my sanity too. When things were hard and horrible, and I
didn’t want to face them, I thought of you and it helped me get
through. I got through the hospital and the counseling and the
therapy and came out on the other side, because of you.” She wiped
her cheek on the soft fur, but couldn’t stop the tears. “I thought
I was done then, I really did. But after a while I felt like it
wasn’t enough to be alive, that I hadn’t really survived until I
started living my life again. And you helped me do that too. I
thought about what to do with my life and it was so plain to me—I
wanted to work with animals, work with wolves. Because of you, I
found that dream inside me. You did that for me, and I can’t tell
you how thankful I am, how grateful I am that you were there for
me. Even now, just handling ordinary life, I feel like I’m never
really alone.”
Not alone. Here with
you. The wolf nuzzled and licked at her hair, then lay down
beside her. Gradually the tears subsided, and Jillian tumbled into
an exhausted sleep with her arms still around the wolf’s
neck.
He couldn’t remember who she was.
Within the body of the wolf, James struggled to understand how her
scent could be so familiar yet her identity elude him. All he knew
was that she was important. Vitally important. In her presence,
both his wolf and human natures were strangely in accord, balanced.
Almost at peace. As she slept, he had nudged her to softer ground
by the side of the trail as he would do for a cub. He had even felt
compelled to try to heal her injured knees as he would do for a
Pack-mate. Yet she was neither cub nor Pack-mate. Not a stranger.
What was she?
As he had lapped the dirt from her torn
skin, he was shocked to discover that he had tasted this blood
before. Her blood. But he had no idea where
or why. James eased himself away from the woman and sat up on his
haunches, but remained close enough to share his warmth with her.
He knew he had done that before too. Last night her words had
resonated with truth and deep emotion, but they had shed no light
on the mystery. He wished she had said more—not only in hopes of
learning more about her, but because he liked the sound of her
voice.
The sun had almost topped the horizon
when James slipped away into the forest. He paused and looked back
at the small figure in the brush by the side of the trail. For a
split second he saw another trail, another forest. Saw the woman
much younger, barely a teenager, lying just off the path and
looking more like a discarded doll than a human being. Her blond
hair was long and matted with blood. But her eyes were open. Green.
Sea green. And infinitely sad as she observed the wolf—and waited
for it to kill her. As she grieved not for the ending of her life,
but for being alone.
James shook himself hard, looked again,
and there was only the woman sleeping peacefully as before,
full-grown and uninjured except for her skinned knees. Her hair was
short, and tufts of it stuck out in odd directions as if it had a
mind of its own.
What the hell had he just seen? A
vision? A memory? An hallucination? Was it confirmation that the
white wolf had encountered her before? Come to her aid, even
comforted her? And last night he had certainly comforted her again.
Even though his human self was controlling the wolf this time, he
had wanted to comfort this woman. He wished
he knew why. Why being near her somehow comforted him, why he didn’t want to leave. . . .
The wolf was licking her face again.
Jillian was reluctant to awaken from the best sleep of her life and
shoved at the creature’s soft muzzle, mumbled at it to stop, but it
persisted. An excited whine had her fluttering her eyelids,
wondering what on earth was—
“Hey!” Her shout caused the young
Labrador to bounce back and fall over its own big feet, but it was
too friendly to stay away. Jillian sat up hurriedly, trying to keep
the silly black creature from licking her face again.
“Good God, are you all right? I’m
really sorry, ma’am. Buster, get down! Get off her!”
Jillian looked up to see a stranger
trying to offer her a hand and shoo the dog away at the same time.
The man was dressed like most of the farmers who came into the
clinic, including a baseball cap advertising the local grain
buyers. Auburn hair curled out from under the cap, amber freckles
dusted the strong face but his eyes were an unexpected golden
brown. And far older than the rest of him, as if he had seen too
much. He would have been handsome—very much so—if he’d smiled, but
something told her that happened rarely, if at all.
“I’m all right, I’m fine. Really. Don’t
worry about the dog.” She tried to wave him away but instead he
grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet as if she were
weightless. “Ouch!”
“Oh, Christ, are you hurt? Damn dog. He
just gets so excited. I’m sorry he knocked you down. Jesus, just
look at your jeans.”
Luckily he was trying to put a leash on
an unwilling Buster and was too distracted to notice the faces
Jillian made as she gingerly flexed her legs. Her knees were stiff
and sore, although not as bad as she had expected. They didn’t look
too bad either, but she’d better get some peroxide on them soon.
The wolf—
“Where’s the wolf?” Panic grabbed her
by the throat. Jillian looked frantically over the spot where she’d
been lying, looked off into the woods, scanned the brush in every
direction. “Where is he?”
The man came back with the now-captive
dog, frowning. “What’s wrong? Did you lose something?”
“The wolf, he was right here. He was
here with me and I don’t know what happened to him.” She whipped
around and grasped the man’s shirt, causing him to back up a step.
“Did you see a white wolf? Maybe you just saw part of something, a
big white animal, maybe you thought it was a dog or a—a calf or
something.”
“No. No, nothing.” He backed up
further, pushing her hands from his shirt. His face had paled and
his eyes darted about. “There’s no wolves around here,
lady.”
She stared at him. “Of course there
are. I saw prints all over Elk Point yesterday, big ones. And there
was a white wolf right here—”
Jillian realized suddenly how bizarre
she sounded. The dog’s owner was glancing down the trail, sidling
away from her and giving every sign of wanting to be gone. The
morning air was cool, but she could swear the guy was sweating.
Small wonder. She was probably coming across as a little deranged.
The guy must think he had a crazy woman on his hands. She ran her
hands through her untidy hair, straightened her jacket and decided
to make light of her outburst. “Well, I guess I must have seen
something else and made a mistake. City girl, you know. Maybe this
is how those Sasquatch stories get started,” she chuckled,
expecting him to laugh along. He didn’t. She tried something
different. “Say, I work at the North Star Animal Hospital. Buster’s
a great-looking dog. Has he had his shots?”
“What? Oh, yeah. A couple months ago
when Dr. Taku was at our place doing a herd check.”
She leaned down and petted the ecstatic
canine straining to reach her even as his owner was moving slowly
in the other direction. “George Taku? Guess you must go over to the
Spirit River clinic then. Well, I guess I won’t see much of you,
Buster.” She looked up at the man. He didn’t look receptive to
shaking her hand so she didn’t offer it. “I’m Jillian by the way.
Thanks again for stopping. And you are?”
There was the slightest hesitation
before he answered. “Douglas. Douglas Harrison. See you, ma’am.” He
turned and walked quickly down the trail, with the reluctant dog in
tow. He called loudly over his shoulder, “You be careful in these
woods now.”
She shook her head as she watched him
disappear around a bend. Too late. I’ve already
spent the night with a wolf. Even Red Riding Hood didn’t do
that.