Part 3
Evelyn watched his mouth, waiting for another explanation to follow. Above them, the deputy was asking someone for marking tape.
Wade’s eyes stayed on the chain.
“How many are we walking through?” she asked.
“Four altogether.” He pointed past the trees. “One by the crossing. Two higher up.”
His directions became precise as he spoke. One trap lay alarmingly close to the route the volunteers had used to reach her.
“Pruitt needs to hear that,” Evelyn said. “Right now.”
Wade swallowed. His fingers tightened on the rail, and for a moment he said nothing.
Then he called uphill.
“Deputy. Don’t send anybody farther. I know the locations.”
Pruitt came down far enough to see his face. Whatever question he had intended to ask went unspoken. He called another volunteer to take Wade’s place beside the sled.
As they pulled Evelyn toward the ridge, she looked back. Wade was walking between two headlamps, pointing into the storm. Both his hands were empty.
At the hospital in Farrenton, her fingers hurt as they warmed. She knew why, which did nothing to make the process easier.
The doctor listed moderate hypothermia, frostnip on two fingertips, a bruised knee, and a cut that needed stitches. He called her fortunate while preparing to numb her hand.
Evelyn watched the tray instead of answering. She could still smell the smoke in her hair. A prescription bottle of bark and the shelter Hugh had taught her to recognize had brought her this far. She would consider the rest when nobody was holding a needle.
Dana arrived before daylight.
Her winter coat hung open over scrub pants. One shoe was a clog, the other a running shoe. Evelyn noticed that before she could bear to look at her face.
At forty-three, Dana had Hugh’s chin. When she was very angry, she also had Evelyn’s habit of going quiet.
She stood by the bed for a long time.
“I thought you’d switched the messenger off,” she said eventually.
“It wasn’t on.”
Dana pressed her lips together.
Evelyn looked down. “Yes. I hear how that sounds.”
She had expected questions about the forecast, about the spring, about why she had gone out alone. Dana seemed to be waiting for the answers Evelyn normally offered before anyone asked.
None came.
“I was already driving toward Darsen when the message arrived.” Dana took off one glove, then put it back on. “I kept looking at those six words. There was so much you hadn’t said.”
Evelyn reached for her. The IV tubing caught, stopping her hand halfway.
Dana saw it and came to the bedside chair. She sat close enough that Evelyn could touch her sleeve.
“I’m sorry.”
Dana’s gaze moved to the bandage. “About the wolf? Going up there? Not answering?”
Evelyn could have chosen the easiest item.
“I made you wonder whether you were going to find my body.”
Her daughter’s face changed. She closed her eyes, let out a breath she couldn’t keep even, and took Evelyn’s hand in both of hers.
The phone rang after breakfast. Dana put it where Evelyn could reach it and stayed in the chair.
Beth had examined the wolf and taken radiographs. There were cracks in two small bones of the paw, but the tendons had escaped the worst of the trap’s force. Circulation had survived. The youngster needed fluids, rest, and close watching for infection.
“If we can keep complications away, she has a good chance of keeping full use of the leg,” Beth said.
Evelyn shut her eyes briefly.
“When could I come?”
“You can’t.”
“I wouldn’t stay long. She’s already been around me.”
“That’s why we have to be careful.”
Evelyn opened her eyes. Dana was looking at the phone, not at her.
Beth explained how the facility would manage the recovery. Feeding would happen remotely. Screens would conceal staff. Treatment would involve as little handling as they could safely manage. The wolf needed to recover without learning to seek people.
“One night of tolerating you helped keep her alive,” Beth said. “Making a habit of it could cost her release.”
“I know she isn’t a dog.”
“I know you do. She has to keep knowing it, too.”
Evelyn looked toward the window. Daylight had reached the glass, but it still held a reflection of Dana beside the bed.
Beth waited a moment before continuing.
“The scarf is helping with the first examinations. She settles faster when it’s nearby. May we use it briefly, then take it away?”
“Of course.”
“I’d also like to seal a small strip before we wash it. Familiar scent may help during the eventual transport. The rest comes back to you.”
Evelyn ran a fingertip along the seam of the hospital blanket.
“What about after these first days?”
“No visits. Nothing with your voice on it. Please don’t come near the enclosure. Even if she never sees you, she’ll know you’ve been there.”
“How long until you decide?”
“About six weeks before we can judge whether release is a realistic goal. Healing sometimes takes longer.”
Evelyn hadn’t given the wolf a name. She had stopped herself more than once from referring to it as hers. Even so, six weeks seemed an unreasonable distance from the sound of breathing beneath the roots.
Dana’s thumb passed over the uninjured part of her hand.
“If she can go,” Evelyn said, “I want it to be Veylan.”
“That depends on the pack still being nearby and the site being safe. It also depends on her remaining afraid of us.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“We’d look for an appropriate sanctuary. That’s the other possibility.”
Evelyn listened to a cart roll past the hospital door. Someone outside laughed, then lowered their voice.
Beth didn’t rush to fill the silence. When she spoke again, she sounded as she had in the clearing: direct, with no promise beyond what she could do.
“Which do you want more, Evelyn? For her to know you, or for her to leave us?”
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