Part 2
Jonah took the tablet from Tessa’s gloved hand and studied the third wolf again. She stood so close behind the injured female that their fur overlapped in the photograph.
“I haven’t seen her,” he said.
“Her trail split below your ridge.” Tessa returned the tablet to her pack. “I thought she might have doubled back, but if the other two reached your cabin, she probably followed.”
Inside, Tessa crouched beside the injured wolf while the male watched from less than three feet away. She removed Jonah’s bandage slowly. When the matted fur parted, a loop of braided steel appeared beneath it.
Jonah felt sick. He had wrapped over the metal without seeing it.
“You couldn’t have known,” Tessa said. “It was buried under the swelling.”
She touched the bright, frayed end with a pair of forceps.
“This wasn’t a fall. She tore herself out of a cable snare—and brought part of it with her.”
The male growled when Tessa leaned closer. She stopped and shifted her weight backward, giving him space.
“I need my field kit,” she said quietly. “It’s in the pack outside.”
“I’ll get it.”
“Walk. Don’t rush.”
Jonah retrieved the pack while Tessa remained on the floor, speaking softly to the wolves. She did not use the childish voice people often adopted with frightened animals. Her tone stayed calm and matter-of-fact, as if acknowledging their fear was more respectful than pretending it did not exist.
The pack contained medications, sterile fluids, clippers, a compact bolt cutter and enough medical equipment to make Jonah’s first-aid supplies look like kitchen scraps.
“You came prepared.”
“I came expecting to find bodies.”
She said it without drama. The statement landed harder because of that.
Tessa examined the female again from a distance. “I can sedate her lightly, remove the cable and clean the wound. She needs imaging and surgery at the center, but this may keep the tissue from getting worse.”
“And him?”
“Starved, dehydrated and exhausted. The collar data showed he’d stayed with her instead of returning to the pack.” She glanced at the torn-eared wolf. “He may have kept her alive. He also nearly killed himself doing it.”
Jonah looked toward the window. “What about the third one?”
“If she’s nearby, she’ll smell them. She may even hear them.” Tessa’s mouth tightened. “That doesn’t mean she’ll come near us.”
They worked for almost an hour.
Tessa administered a small amount of sedative through a long syringe while Jonah remained beside the female, talking in the steady voice she already recognized. The male paced once around the rug, then took his position near her head.
When Tessa clipped the fur, the full injury emerged. The cable had bitten through skin and muscle before snapping at a rusted swivel. Every mile the wolf traveled had tightened and twisted what remained.
Jonah held the flashlight while Tessa cut the final loop. The metal came away wet and dark, no longer than a man’s hand.
“That small thing did all this?”
“A snare only has to close once.”
“Legal?”
“Not where they were traveling, and not without identification.” Tessa placed the cable in an evidence bag. “Someone from the state team can check the area later. Right now she matters more than whoever left it.”
The female jerked when the pressure released. Her jaws snapped shut on the edge of the rug, but she never turned toward Tessa or Jonah. The male’s growl vibrated through the floor.
Jonah did not move away.
“Stay with her,” he said to him. “We’re almost finished.”
Tessa flushed the wound and applied a clean dressing. She started antibiotics and fluids, then listened to the female’s heart through a stethoscope pressed beneath the fur.
“Her pulse is fast, but stronger than I expected,” she said. “The heat and water helped.”
Jonah sat back against the stove platform. “Can we move them?”
“My team has a transport van and proper crates, but they can’t reach this cabin. The county road is blocked near Morrow Creek.” She checked her radio, turning it until static filled the room. “I may get a signal from your porch.”
The wind had begun to rise again.
On the front steps, Tessa stood with the radio held beneath her hood while Jonah watched through the window. She repeated coordinates, lost the connection, tried again and finally received a broken reply.
When she came inside, loose snow followed her across the floor.
“Owen and Lena can reach the Morrow Creek crossing tomorrow morning,” she said. “They’ll bring a rescue tent, crates and veterinary supplies. We can tow the wolves there behind your snowmobile.”
“You’re assuming my snowmobile runs.”
“Does it?”
“Usually after it’s insulted properly.”
“That’s all I need.”
They had roughly sixteen hours before departure and another storm moving down from Canada. Tessa wanted the female kept warm and quiet. She also wanted the male fed in small portions so his starved system would not be overwhelmed.
Jonah warmed canned stew for himself and Tessa while elk meat thawed for the wolves. She ate at the kitchen table, writing notes between bites.
“How long have you been following this group?” he asked.
“Since late summer. The Blackglass pack usually travels higher in the basin, but prey moved down early this year.” She glanced at the male. “We counted six before the weather turned. Two adults were photographed west of the ridge this morning. These three separated during the storm.”
“That accounts for five.”
Tessa nodded. “We haven’t confirmed the sixth.”
Jonah did not ask what that meant. The answer was already in her face.
The male ate, drank and returned to the female. He watched Jonah carry firewood from the mudroom and followed him with his eyes when he crossed the cabin.
Tessa noticed.
“He’s tracking you.”
“He tracks everyone.”
“Not the same way.”
Jonah set an armload of wood beside the stove. “You’ve known him for months. I’ve known him since last night.”
“You gave him food, heat and access to her. In his present world, those things are connected to you.”
“That isn’t trust.”
“No. But it may be the beginning of tolerance.”
Jonah removed his gloves. “Don’t turn it into something sentimental.”
“I’m not.” Tessa closed her notebook. “Sentiment gets people bitten. Observation keeps them alive.”
That answer satisfied him.
They spent the afternoon building a transport bed from Jonah’s utility sled. He brought in an old foam mattress from the barn, and Tessa cut it to fit. They layered canvas over wool blankets and rigged a low wind cover that would keep snow off without enclosing the wolves completely.
The male inspected every strap. When Jonah dragged the sled toward the wall, he stood over the female and showed his teeth.
“You hate it,” Jonah told him. “That makes two of us.”
Tessa tightened a buckle. “He may refuse to get in tomorrow.”
“Then what?”
“We move her first and let him choose whether to follow. I’d rather avoid sedating him in this condition.”
“He won’t leave her.”
“No,” Tessa said. “I don’t think he will.”
As evening settled over the cabin, the storm muffled everything beyond the windows. Jonah heated soup and found a sleeping bag for Tessa. She took the floor near the kitchen wall rather than the bedroom.
“You can use the bed,” he said.
“You need some sleep too.”
“I have the chair.”
“That chair looks like it was designed as punishment.”
“It belonged to my father.”
“That explains it.”
Jonah almost laughed. The sound surprised him enough that it never fully formed.
The wolves slept in broken stretches. Tessa checked the female every hour, touching the pads of her feet and monitoring her breathing. The fever did not worsen, but it did not break.
Near midnight, Jonah noticed Tessa looking toward the folded quilt on the bedroom chest.
“You live here alone?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She waited, perhaps expecting more. Jonah offered nothing.
At 2:17 a.m., the torn-eared male rose so suddenly that his claws struck the floor.
His head turned toward the back wall. The female woke and answered with a weak, breathy sound.
Then a howl came from beyond the cabin.
It was short, uneven and much closer than either Jonah or Tessa expected.
The male crossed the room in three silent strides and pressed his nose to the rear door. Tessa was already standing, one hand reaching for her coat.
“Don’t open it,” she said.
Jonah lifted the curtain over the window. Beyond the woodpile, at the edge of the porch light, a third wolf stood in the falling snow. Her muzzle was dark. Her body was gaunt. One front paw hung above the ground…
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