Part 6
The transport truck reached Willow Draw before sunrise. A skin of ice covered the puddles, and every sound carried—the click of the rear latch, Rachel pouring coffee into a metal cup, the restless scrape from inside the covered carrier.
Nora stood beside the old root plate wearing the repaired red scarf. The gray patch lay over her collarbone, obvious even in the weak light. She had brought the hickory stick and the satellite locator clipped to her belt.
Lena and a wildlife technician placed the carrier at the edge of the trees. The door faced uphill, away from the people and toward the route the pack used along the creek. A lightweight tracking collar lay beneath the young wolf’s fur. If all went well, its signal would tell the biologists whether she traveled with the pack, but not whether she was welcomed, fed, or safe. Lena had been careful about the limits of what a dot on a map could mean.
“We’ll open from the truck,” she said. “Then we wait. No calling to her, even if she doesn’t come out.”
Nora nodded.
The carrier shifted when they withdrew. A low growl came from beneath the cover. It was a healthy sound, rich with warning.
Rachel smiled into her coffee. “Excellent manners.”
They retreated sixty yards and stood behind the truck. Lena raised a remote release. Before she pressed it, Nora recognized a narrow strip of red wool tied to the handle of the carrier—the piece Lena had sealed before returning the scarf.
“You used it?”
“During transport only,” Lena said. “It comes off before I open the door.”
Nora walked back toward the carrier.
“Mom,” Rachel said softly.
“I know where I’m going.”
The wolf struck the inside wall as Nora approached. She stopped beyond the reach of the crate and waited until the animal went still. The strip of wool fluttered from the handle, bright against the frost.
Nora knew the strip would not remain. Still, part of her wanted to ask. It was a small desire and an enormous one: to have the animal carry proof of her into the trees, to make the night beneath the roots mean something the wolf could not forget.
Nora used the hook of her cane to lift the wool free. She brought it back to Lena and closed the veterinarian’s hand around it.
“She doesn’t need directions to me,” Nora said.
They returned to the truck. Lena pressed the release. The carrier door clicked open.
Nothing happened.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. Frost melted beneath Nora’s boots. From inside the carrier came the sound of careful breathing and an occasional shift of claws on the rubber floor.
“Could she stay in there all day?” Rachel whispered.
“She could,” Lena said. “We won’t force her.”
Nora knew how easily waiting turned into action for people who could not bear it. She put both hands on the top of her cane. The old phrase rose to her mouth—Easy, little one, save some—but she kept it there.
A raven called from the creek. The young wolf’s nose appeared at the edge of the open door and vanished. A minute later it appeared again, followed by a narrow silver face.
The animal stepped down with one front paw, then the injured one. The paw turned slightly outward. It held.
She was larger than Nora remembered, long-legged and lean beneath her winter coat. She looked toward the truck. Nora could not tell whether the wolf recognized a shape, a scent, or only a group of humans too close to an exit.
The wolf backed into the carrier. Nora’s fingers tightened on the cane. Rachel slid one hand around her forearm, not holding her back, simply staying there.
From the ridge above Willow Draw came a howl.
The young wolf surged forward so quickly the carrier rocked behind her. She stopped in the open, head raised, every line of her body aimed uphill.
The howl came again. Through the larches, nearly two hundred yards away, a large wolf stepped onto a shelf of pale stone. Dawn caught the silver across its muzzle and chest. Nora could not see the notch at that distance, but the coloring matched the animal that had watched beyond her fire.
Nora felt Rachel’s hand tighten.
A dark wolf appeared lower on the slope. Then another, smaller shape moved between the trees. None approached the people. The silver wolf stood broadside, watching the young one below.
The released wolf gave two short calls. She started uphill, favoring the healed foot for the first few strides. By the time she reached the creek she was running evenly.
The dark wolf met her among the alders. Their bodies circled, noses working, tails moving in quick uncertain arcs. The young wolf dropped low, then sprang forward as the other animal turned uphill. Whatever passed between them was swift, physical, and entirely their own.
At the stone shelf, the silver wolf waited.
The young wolf climbed toward him. Once she stopped near the place where the steel trap had been anchored. She lowered her nose to the ground, crossed the faint remains of Nora’s fire ring, and continued without looking toward the truck.
Nora’s throat closed. She did not call.
The silver wolf stepped into the trees. The others followed, the young female among them. Gray backs moved between gray trunks until the forest took every one.
Lena looked down at the receiver in her hand. A point of light traveled north, paused, then moved again beside two sets of tracks no screen could show. Rachel leaned her head against Nora’s shoulder. The repaired scarf lay between them, warm on one side and cold on the other…
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