Werewolf in Alaska

“I hope he’s strong enough. It was weird, though. I imagined I could hear him thinking.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about artists. A little bit strange.”

“I know. Flaky as hell. Follow him, okay? I need to know he’s made it to . . . wherever he’s going.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Text me if you get a chance, to let me know the situation.”

“I will. Go pour yourself a glass of wine and relax.”

“Fat chance.” She disconnected and stood staring at the spot in the woods where the wolf had disappeared. Stay safe, wolf.

An answer popped into her head, as if from a radio transmission. Always, Rachel.

She told herself she’d imagined the response. She’d wanted to believe he was okay and she’d fabricated his telepathic message to make her feel secure. But then she thought over their last few minutes together and what she’d admitted to Lionel.

While she’d talked to the wolf and stroked his fur, he’d looked into her eyes as if absorbing every word. She’d swear that he responded, somehow, because she’d felt communication flow between them.

No doubt she was letting her overactive imagination run away with her again. She couldn’t really read a wolf’s mind.

But what if she could? She’d heard of people who communicated mentally with dogs, cats, even horses. Why couldn’t she receive the transmissions of this wolf, especially if they had a special connection?

Closing her eyes, she tried to tune in again, but all she got was static. She sent out a question. Where are you? No answer came back. That made sense. If he was running for his life and concentrating on protecting himself, he wouldn’t have time to play telepathy games with her.

No, she couldn’t expect little messages of comfort when his very existence was in jeopardy. But she couldn’t leave the deck and go back inside. That would seem like deserting him.

So she’d stay right here and enjoy the view, something she didn’t do often enough. Polecat Lake, despite its unlovely name, was gorgeous. Evergreens framed the waterline except for the mirror-image clearings, where her cabin sat on one side and Jake’s on the other.

Off to her right, a vista both she and Jake could enjoy, mountains rose in eternally snowcapped splendor. Had she been a painter instead of a carver, she’d be moved to capture them with her brush. But she’d always been drawn to the tactile pleasure of woodworking.

The cell phone in her hand chimed. Eager for news, she opened the text from Lionel.

Picked up his trail. No blood.

She answered immediately. Good. Knowing that the wolf wasn’t bleeding loomed large in her mind. He had to make it to safety. He had to.

Humans. Must avoid.

She drew in a quick breath. She hadn’t imagined that communication. The words had come through clearly, and they could be from only one source.

Somehow in the time they’d spent together, she’d managed to tune in. The connection wasn’t perfect or constant, but in times of intense concentration on the wolf’s welfare, she was able to pick up his thoughts.

Leaning against the deck railing, she clutched the weathered wood with both hands and focused on the wolf. If he was in danger from the humans he’d sensed nearby, she’d hear his panic. She could text Lionel, who might be able to get there in time to intercede.

Made it past them.

Her shoulders sagged in relief.

Tired.

Her tummy churned. Should he stop and rest? She had no idea. She didn’t know how far he had to go before he was safe.

Getting close, though.

That was good news. She wondered if he’d moved deeper into the forest. Maybe he had a cave back in there, away from the frequently traveled hiking trails. Thank heavens Lionel was young and fit, because he’d have the stamina to follow the wolf to wherever he was going.

Her cell phone chimed again. Weird, Lionel texted. Moving toward Mr. Hunter’s cabin.

Jake Hunter?

Yep. Wolf stopped in trees. I’m pulling back.

Don’t let him C U.

I won’t.

Rachel whirled and ran back inside to get her binoculars. Suddenly things were starting to make sense. If anyone in the neighborhood would keep a pet wolf, it would be Jake. He was something of a lone wolf, himself.

She thought of his green eyes, so like the wolf’s. Maybe Jake felt a kinship there. He’d also been quick to buy that carving. She couldn’t figure out why he wanted to get rid of it now, though.

As she trained her binoculars on Jake’s cabin, she pondered his odd behavior regarding the carving. Maybe he planned to surrender the wolf to a zoo or sanctuary. If so, he might be riddled with guilt.

Now that she’d spent time with that magnificent animal, she thought he certainly should feel guilty even considering doing such a thing. She realized that if Jake planned to surrender the wolf, he wouldn’t want the carving around to remind him of his former companion.

She couldn’t know any of that for sure, but she intended to find out. She owed the wolf her life, and she was going to protect it from any threat, especially if that threat came from Jake Hunter.

Her phone chimed again. Holding her binoculars with one hand, she pulled out her phone and took a quick look at Lionel’s text.

Can U C him?

She put down the binoculars long enough to send a reply. No.

In trees near Mr. Hunter’s place.

Picking up the binoculars again, she focused them on the tree line to the right of Jake’s cabin. Deep shadows pooled under the trees made seeing anything difficult, but . . . there. That darker shape could be him. She watched a moment longer and decided it very well could be him.

She laid the binoculars on the railing and texted Lionel. Think I C him.

Want me to keep watching?

No. Go on home. And thanks!

Welcome!

Rachel tucked her phone away and picked up the binoculars again. Yes, she was now almost positive that black shadow under a large pine tree was the wolf lying down. She tried tuning in to his thoughts but got nothing.

Poor injured wolf. He was probably worn out from the effort of getting around the lake without being seen. He still instinctively stayed out of sight, and Jake, if the wolf indeed belonged to him, would have reinforced that instinct.

If the cabin was the wolf’s ultimate destination, he’d have to cross that treeless stretch, which was currently bathed in sunlight. Another hour and it would be shaded, though. Another hour after that, and it would be nearly time for Jake’s nightly skinny-dipping session.

Had he been at all worried that his wolf had been gone for twenty-four hours? Of course, she still couldn’t prove for certain that the wolf was his, but the evidence was mounting. If the wolf went up to the cabin, then she could justify driving over there.

Jake must have really kept that animal under wraps, though. She’d never seen it except for one glimpse four years ago. The wolf was news to Lionel, obviously. Ted might know. She decided to call him.

But first she dragged an Adirondack chair over to the railing and made herself comfortable. If she was right about the wolf’s plan, she had an hour to wait before he made his move. Propping her elbow on the flat arm of the chair, she braced herself so she could look through the binoculars while talking on the phone.

Ted answered, but there was noise in the background. Oh, right. He hosted some guys for a poker party