Part 3
The woman outside did not knock again. She waited under the porch light with her hands visible and her chin tucked against the cold, patient in the way of people who knew that urgency did not have to look loud.
Jack opened the door.
“Deputy Mercer?” she asked.
“On leave, apparently.”
One corner of her mouth moved, but not enough to become a smile. “Dr. Hannah Park. Wildlife veterinarian and regional biologist. Captain Harlan called my office. I was closer than the transport team, so I came myself.”
“If you’re here to move them, the sick one won’t survive the drive.”
“I’m not here to move anybody tonight.”
Jack stepped aside.
Hannah Park entered the clinic without the brittle authority he had expected. She wiped her boots on the mat, took in the room, and noticed everything: the exam table, Leah’s notes, Ranger’s posture, Ash’s position between the humans and his brother. Her gaze lingered longest on the wolf pup leaning against the German Shepherd.
“That your K-9?”
“Ranger.”
“And the pup?”
“Ash.”
Hannah glanced at him. “You named him.”
“Yeah.”
“That makes paperwork messier.”
“I figured I was past clean paperwork.”
Leah came out of the exam room with her arms folded. “If you’re Dr. Park, I have vitals, medication times, fluid rates, and a strong objection to transport before morning.”
“I’ll review everything,” Hannah said. “And for the record, I’m not interested in punishing the person who kept an animal alive long enough for me to examine it.”
Some of the tightness left Leah’s shoulders.
Jack followed them into the exam room. Finn lay under a warmed blanket, eyes closed, oxygen tubing near his muzzle. Ash stayed close to the table, and Ranger stayed close to Ash. The arrangement had become so natural in just a few hours that Jack had to remind himself how strange it was.
Hannah crouched instead of standing over the pup. Ash watched her every movement. When she reached for Finn, Ash let out a low rumble that stopped everyone in the room.
Ranger did not correct him. He only touched his nose lightly to the back of Ash’s neck.
Ash’s growl faded.
Hannah’s eyes lifted to Jack’s. “That’s unusual.”
“That’s the word everyone keeps using.”
She examined Finn with careful hands and no wasted motion. She checked hydration, temperature, reflexes, and the small injured places where hunger and cold had started leaving marks. Then she moved to Ash, who resisted at first but allowed Ranger to stand beside him while Hannah looked him over.
“He’s underweight,” she said. “Not critical, but not good. Both are dehydrated. The healthy one carried the other one emotionally, if not physically.”
“Can wolves do that?” Leah asked.
Hannah sat back on her heels. “Wolves are social animals. Pack bonds are survival, not decoration. Pups this young depend on each other more than people realize. But seeking out a road and waiting for humans…” She looked at Ash, who had already returned to Finn’s side. “That’s not something I’d put in a textbook without starting an argument.”
Jack told her the rest because she asked for details, not drama. He described where Ash had sat, how many layers of tracks he had found, the frozen mother, the den, the repeated path through the snow. Hannah took notes, but her pen slowed when he mentioned the paw prints leading again and again to the road.
“How long was the mother dead?” she asked.
“Four or five days, best guess.”
Hannah looked at Finn. “Then this pup should not be alive.”
“Ash kept him warm,” Jack said.
“And went looking for help.”
“Yes.”
Hannah closed her notebook. “Then we have two separate problems. The first is immediate medical care. Dr. Moreno’s right. Finn cannot travel tonight, probably not tomorrow. I can justify a temporary hold here on medical grounds.”
Leah nodded. “Good.”
“The second problem is what happens after he stabilizes.”
Jack did not like the way she said after, as if survival was only the beginning of a harder question.
“They go to rehab,” he said. “Right?”
“If possible. That’s always the first consideration.” Hannah leaned against the counter, choosing her words with care. “But they’re young. They’ve lost their mother at a critical stage. They’ve already had extended contact with people and with your dog. Without a pack to return to, release may not be realistic.”
“So what’s realistic?”
“Sanctuary placement.”
Ash lifted his head at the sound of Hannah’s voice. He did not know the word, but Jack felt as though he did.
“Together,” Jack said.
Hannah looked down.
The room seemed to cool around that silence.
“Tell me,” Jack said.
“Sanctuaries are full. Wolf placements are hard. Two juveniles together are harder. If we can’t find room for both, they may be placed separately.”
“No.”
“I’m not saying that’s what I want. I’m saying it’s what happens when there are more animals than spaces.”
Jack looked at Ash curled against the metal table, the entire length of his small body oriented toward Finn. He thought of those tracks leading to the road. Five days of walking away from a dead mother and back to a dying brother. Five days of returning because there was no one else.
“You can’t separate them,” Jack said.
Hannah’s face softened, but her voice stayed steady. “Deputy Mercer—”
“No. Don’t deputy me. Not for this.” He lowered his voice because Finn stirred under the blanket. “That pup sat in a road and waited for somebody because he wouldn’t leave his brother behind. I’m not going to be the human who rewards him by taking the only family he has left.”
Leah looked away, but not before Jack saw her eyes shine.
Hannah folded her notebook against her chest. “I can request a seventy-two-hour medical delay before final placement decisions. That gives us time to call facilities.”
“Seventy-two hours.”
“That may be all I can get.”
“Then I’ll use it.”
Hannah studied him. “You understand this is not just a matter of wanting it badly enough.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Because calling sanctuaries is one thing. Funding care is another. Transport. Quarantine. Enclosure space. Staff. Long-term commitment. These animals could live more than a decade.”
Jack looked at Ranger, who had rested his muzzle beside Ash’s back. The dog’s eyes were half closed, but he was not asleep. He was listening in the only way he knew how.
“I understand commitment,” Jack said. “I’ve just been bad at choosing where to put it.”
Hannah did not ask what he meant. Maybe she heard enough in his voice to know better.
She left an hour later with Leah’s records, photographs of both pups, and a promise to delay transport as long as the medical justification held. Jack walked her to the door. Snow had started falling again, fine and quiet, softening the tire tracks in the parking lot.
“I’ll make calls tonight,” she said. “You should too.”
“I know someone.”
“Good.”
Jack watched her drive away, then stood under the clinic awning until the cold reached through his shirt. He had been avoiding that number for three years. He knew it by heart anyway.
Inside, Leah had dimmed the lights in the exam room. Finn slept under the warming blanket. Ash slept on the floor below him, tucked against Ranger’s chest. The sight should have comforted Jack, but it only made the phone in his hand feel heavier.
He opened his contacts and scrolled to Claire Mercer.
His sister had not blocked him. That was something. She worked as a volunteer coordinator at Sage River Wolf Refuge outside Lander, Wyoming. She had also been the one who cleaned out Eli’s apartment after Jack failed to show up on the first day.
He had an apology in him somewhere, but no shape for it. At 10:38 p.m., standing beside two wolf pups who had already done more for family than he had, Jack pressed call…
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