Part 5
Mae arrived at the wildlife center while frost still silvered the weeds along the highway. She brought no blanket, no toy, and none of the red yarn she had found wound around the bottom of her knitting basket. In her coat pocket, she carried the temporary access badge Erin had unclipped at the hospital. The center had asked for it back by mail. Mae wanted to return it in person.
The observation room overlooked a concrete loading corridor through darkened glass. Dr. Patel met her there and reviewed the rule once: Mae could watch, but the room microphone would remain off, and she was not to touch the door. Mica’s carrier would be covered.
“You may not see much,” Dr. Patel said.
“I understand.”
Dr. Patel studied her, perhaps checking for bitterness. Whatever she found, she nodded.
Erin came in wearing field gear. She would travel as far as the staging site, then remain with the support team while two specialists completed the den placement. Her professional distance had returned, but it no longer felt like a wall built only for Mae.
“The foster female moved away from the den an hour ago,” Erin said. “The ground team has confirmed the route. If she comes back early or anything else changes, they abort.”
Mae knew better than to ask for guarantees. “How is he?”
“Angry about the carrier. That’s useful.”
Below them, two technicians rolled equipment toward the bay. A third carried a small covered transport crate close to her body. Nothing about the bundle suggested a future wild wolf. It was simply a covered weight held level in practiced hands.
The technician stopped beneath the observation window when one wheel on the equipment cart caught in the floor drain. Someone lifted the cart free. The pause lasted perhaps ten seconds.
From under the crate cover came a sharp, rising cry.
Mae’s mouth shaped the first note of the hum before she knew she had taken a breath. Her body remembered the weight below her collarbone and the small nose pressing into her warmth. A black intercom button sat within reach beside the window. One touch would open the microphone into the corridor.
She closed her teeth against the inside of her cheek. Her hand stayed against the seam of her coat, and she did not touch the button.
Mica cried again. The technician settled the carrier against her chest and continued down the corridor, passing beneath the window and through the loading door without pausing.
Erin stood beside her. She had heard the breath Mae did not use.
“You didn’t answer,” she said.
Mae watched the loading door close. “He wasn’t calling me.”
Neither of them pretended that made it easier.
The field team left before sunrise. Mae returned the badge at the front desk, drove home, and waited. She cleaned the treatment room drain. She carried the washed horse blanket that had lain beneath the dead female to the clothesline, although no trace of river remained in it. She found the snapped strand of red yarn in the trash, held it for a moment, then laid it back.
By noon, there was still no word. Cross-fostering depended on timing, weather, the foster female’s movements, and whatever happened when human planning ended. Mae made coffee she did not drink.
At three, Cal arrived with Annie and a covered casserole dish. Annie set it on the counter and asked the question before taking off her coat.
“Did they put Rat with the other wolves?” she asked.
“His name isn’t Rat,” Mae and Cal said together.
Annie looked from one to the other. “Then what is it?”
Mae had not told Cal the name. She straightened the dish towel over the casserole.
“The people caring for him use a field number. A name isn’t the important part.”
Annie considered that. “Did he go?”
“Yes. We don’t know yet if the mother wolf accepted him.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“The team will bring him back if they can do it safely.”
Annie picked at the edge of the dish towel. “I hope she takes him. I still don’t want wolves by our calves.”
“I hope she takes him too. Tomorrow I’ll help Cal check the north fence.”
Cal’s gaze rested on her, but he left the sentence alone.
They were still in the kitchen when Erin’s truck pulled into the yard just before dark. Mud covered it to the windows. Mae went to the porch and stopped there.
Erin climbed out with her phone in one hand. Her face gave nothing away until she reached the bottom step.
“The female came back,” she said. “She checked the den for eleven minutes. Then she went in.”
Mae gripped the porch rail. “And Mica?”
“The remote camera caught her moving all five pups deeper. One of them had the cream mark.”
Erin held out the phone. The clip was twelve seconds long and grainy in the fading light. A gray female crossed the mouth of a den with a pup held carefully by the scruff. The pup’s legs hung loose in the reflexive posture of a carried newborn. Above one closed eye, a pale fleck caught the camera’s infrared glow.
Mae watched once. When Erin offered to replay it, she shook her head.
“Can you send it to me?”
“No. The den location is protected, and the file stays with the program.”
A week earlier, Mae would have heard only refusal. Now she handed the phone back.
“Good,” she said. “Keep it there.”
Erin came up the steps. Cal and Annie made room in the kitchen, and they ate the reheated casserole while Erin answered only the questions she was allowed to answer.
When it grew late, Erin said she had to drive back to Kalispell. Mae almost offered the sofa, but Erin already had her keys in hand. She filled a travel mug with coffee and handed it over at the door.
“Call when you get there,” Mae said. Erin took the mug. “I will…”
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