Part 5
Bruno hit the ajar door again and drove it wide. He crossed the yard with a speed his aging body had not shown since autumn, barking as he placed himself between Caleb and the pack. Will followed as far as the porch, then stopped below the rail, head low as he watched the five wolves spread around the old dog. Bruno did not look back for permission.
The old stay command had held through helicopters, gunshots, and screaming families. Tonight, for the first time, it did not.
The torn-eared wolf met him head-on.
Snow lifted around them. Bruno drove into the larger animal’s shoulder, twisted, and found fur at the side of its neck. For several seconds his old training and the force of his first attack held the leader away from Caleb.
The leader was heavier and years younger. He used the packed snow rather than fighting Bruno’s forward force, giving ground, turning, then driving in from the side. Caleb saw the change a moment before Bruno lost his footing.
Then age collected its price. The wolf tore free, struck Bruno across the ribs, and sent him rolling onto his side. Bruno tried to rise, but one foreleg buckled.
Two wolves moved around the leader.
One approached from the barn side while the other came over Bruno’s back. The old dog rolled onto his chest and snapped at the nearer muzzle, buying a second at a time. His bark had collapsed into breath and effort.
Caleb dug both hands into the snow and pulled himself toward Bruno. The distance was no more than six feet. With his knee useless, it might as well have been the width of the field.
“Bruno!”
The dog lifted his head. One of the wolves angled toward his exposed throat.
A gray body launched from beneath the porch rail and came past Caleb from behind.
Will passed so close Caleb felt the sweep of fur against his shoulder, then crossed the remaining snow without a sound.
Will hit the advancing wolf in the shoulder and carried it sideways into a drift. He landed, wheeled, and drove the second animal back with a snap of his jaws. Then he placed himself over Bruno’s front legs, broad chest facing the pack.
Caleb could hear Will’s breathing. His coat stood high along his spine, making him look nothing like the narrow pup who still disliked falling pans. Yet one hind foot rested against Bruno’s paw.
The wolf Will had thrown climbed from the drift favoring one shoulder. The second animal he had driven back stopped near the fence. For two breaths, neither rushed him.
The torn-eared male brought his head level, came two paces closer, and gave a rough, pulsing call unlike the growl he had used on Bruno. The other wolves widened around him. One still prowled beside the sheep gate, but open snow ran from Will to the leader and on toward the north woods.
Caleb could not tell what the call meant. He saw Will take one slow step toward the gray bodies. No wolf challenged him.
At the sheep gate, one wolf jumped and hooked both forepaws over the lower rail. The woven wire behind it bowed. Sheep slammed against the rear wall; a ewe went down, scrambled up, and vanished into the flock. The wolf dropped back only to pace toward the latch. At the same moment, a smaller wolf edged toward Bruno’s exposed side while a fourth gray shape moved behind the leader, cutting off the angle to the porch. Caleb dragged the split cedar length onto his lap and thrust the splintered end at the smaller wolf’s chest. It checked but did not turn away. He could block Bruno or reach toward the gate; from the ground, he could not do both.
The leader gave a shorter call. Will looked past him toward the spruce and set one front paw farther from Bruno.
“Will.” The name carried no farther than the trampled snow. Caleb remembered the frozen chest that had once fit between his hands and the stubborn breath that had returned beneath them.
Will’s right ear turned back. His body remained angled toward the wolves while the animal near Bruno crept another step closer.
Bruno tried to rise. His foreleg folded, and a small sound escaped him.
Will turned. He crossed the step he had taken and lowered his nose to the old dog. Bruno’s eyes opened at the touch, clouded with pain but fixed on him.
The contact lasted less than a second. Will touched his muzzle to Bruno’s gray cheek, stepped across the dog’s body, and planted both forefeet ahead of his shoulders.
He covered Bruno’s throat with his chest and growled at the torn-eared male. The leader’s call stopped. His lips lifted, and his rear legs gathered beneath him as the other wolves began moving again.
Will lowered his shoulders without leaving Bruno. The torn-eared wolf launched across the snow.
Will met him before he reached the dog. The collision drove both wolves into the packed drift beside Caleb, where they rolled once and came apart, legs searching for purchase on the crust.
Caleb pulled Bruno to the fence post and braced the cedar rail across his lap. One hand on the bleeding shoulder, he gave the old command to hold. Bruno stayed trembling, watching Will.
The leader recovered first. He caught Will high on the right shoulder and forced him sideways. Will twisted free, leaving a dark wet mark in his coat.
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