by Peggy Webb
Besides, she hadn’t packed any food and she was getting hungry.
Hannah turned to go when a prickle along the back of her neck alerted her. With slow and deliberate movements she swiveled toward a thick stand of firs only a dozen feet away. And there in the shadows was her watcher.
He could be no other. His size alone gave him away. In the daylight he looked enormous. Through the curtain of rain she saw that what she had mistaken for a wolf’s coat was actually the skin of some larger animal— Perhaps a bear with the head gone.
And the hair… Hannah strained her eyes through the mists. The thick tangle of hair was sun-streaked and long. But it was the eyes that mesmerized Hannah. Pale and glowing. Even from a distance they held her spellbound.
They stared at each other—Hannah and the wolfman. She saw curiosity in his eyes. Intelligence. And something else. Something she couldn’t define. Something that made her pulse hammer and her mouth go dry.
Could she risk one quick shot without driving him away?
Maybe…if she could ease the camera into position on the rock and shoot blind. And if the rain would cover the sound of the shutter clicking.
Hannah eased her hand onto her camera and clicked. Once. Twice. Three times.
Either he didn’t hear or whatever enthralled him overcame his natural desire to flee. The rain abated and still his gaze was on her, unwavering and extraordinarily disturbing.
The temperature had risen since morning and her slicker created a sauna-like effect. Hannah felt too hot…and it had nothing to do with the weather. She couldn’t take her gaze off the wolfman. She’d never seen eyes like his. The softest gray so luminescent they looked silver.
Could she capture his eyes on film? Could she change to a zoom lens without disturbing him?
Still watching her watcher, Hannah made the adjustments. There now. It was done. But could she get the shot without focusing?
No. She’d have to aim and shoot. And risk losing him.
But the prize was worth the risk. If she worked quickly enough she’d have a close-up head shot of a real wolfman.
Her hand moved to the camera, and then she had second thoughts. This was not a wolf, but a man, and she was fully exposed with no protection. What if she made him angry? What if he came after her?
He might come after her anyway. It would soon be dark, and who knew what would happen then?
She could see the headlines: Photojournalist Mauled In Alaska. She couldn’t do that to her mother. Not on the heels of her father’s accident.
Trying to act naturally, Hannah picked up her camera and started back to her campsite. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the wolfman still standing in the shadows.
Good. That meant he wasn’t following her.
Maybe the sun would shine tomorrow and she could come back into the rocky terrain and get some good footage. Evidence to back up her story. Proof that her mind wasn’t deceiving her, that working alone for so many years hadn’t driven her around the bend.
Back at camp she ate some jerky then built a big fire, stripped and sat huddled over it wrapped in a blanket.
“This feels so good,” she said, then stretched her feet and hands toward the flames, and her blanket slid to the ground.
She’d reached to pull it back when the nape of her neck prickled. Hannah looked up, and there crouched at the edge of the woods in the gathering dusk was the wolfman, his silvery eyes gleaming in a predatory way that had nothing whatsoever to do with the hunt for food.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. She stared into those mesmerizing eyes while small details filtered through her trance—his jaw, square and powerful; his nose, somewhat crooked as if it had been broken many times, but nonetheless fine, even aristocratic; his lips, wide and sensual. Wet. Intoxicating.
Heat seared through Hannah, and she became aware of her own condition—skin sensitized as if hands caressed her, breasts tight and heavy-feeling, nipples fully aroused. She thought she might explode. She had to have relief.
Her hands moving downward were not connected to her body. The wet heat she encountered was separate from reality. The cry that escaped her was not her own.
The only thing real was the creature who watched her. Man or beast. She didn’t care. She was a prisoner of passion so primal it stole reason, a willing captive of the wild wolfman who watched from the woods.
Chapter Three
As soon as it was light enough to see, Hannah hiked to the one place she knew her cell phone would work, the top of the hill above her camp. Every step of the way she second-guessed herself. Should she call her editor or not? No doubt she’d stumbled onto the biggest story of her career, and yet she couldn’t think of the wolfman as a story. When she thought of him—which was constantly—she imagined him in much more personal terms.
Last night they’d shared an odd intimacy, Hannah by the fire and the savage creature in the woods. More intimate than anything she’d ever known. What had happened had forever changed her relationship with the wolfman, and now she found herself in the untenable position of uncertainty.
Hannah didn’t like to think of herself that way. It made her uncomfortable. Decisiveness suited her. Boldness.
Only one obstacle stood between her and the pinnacle…a huge boulder that blocked the path. As she climbed over it she became aware that she was not alone. Every nerve in her body went on alert. Somewhere out there, deep in the shadows of the forest, the wolfman watched.
Hannah didn’t look for him until she’d reached the top. Shading her eyes against the sun, she scanned the deep woods. Nothing stirred. Not so much as a leaf. Still, she knew he was there. All her instincts warned her.
Her heart hammered hard; her imagination caught fire. And her body. Such primitive urges overtook Hannah that she suppressed a groan.
She’d been too long in the woods. That had to be it. She needed to dispatch her story and hurry to civilization.
Turning her back on the tall spruces, the massive ferns and the towering mountain peaks, she dialed the number of the magazine, The World’s Wild Places.
Her editor answered. “Jack,” she said. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear. What’s up, Hannah?”
She thought of the wild man watching her from the woods. Listening. Could he understand?
“Hannah? Are you there?”
“I’m here.” She had to make a decision. She could give her editor some excuse about updating her original story. Hannah squinted into the deep woods, searching for answers. “How’s Jessie?”
Jack snorted. “She’s great. Hannah, cut the bull. You didn’t call to ask about my wife.”
“No…there’s some kind of primitive man in the woods watching me, Jack. At first I thought he was a wolf…”
“My God, Hannah. Do you have your rifle?”
“No. The climb up here is too steep.”
“Dammit…”
“He’s not going to harm me, Jack. He’s curious, that’s all.”
Was it? She thought of the way he’d looked at her across the firelight. That hadn’t been curiosity in his eyes, but pure primitive desire.
“Follow him,” Jack told her. “Get all the footage you can and call me tomorrow. I’ll see what I can find out…and Hannah, be careful.”
Following the wolfman was easy. Too easy. Was he leading her into a trap?
Hannah shifted her backpack, dropped to the ground and propped her back against the trunk of a black spruce. No need to leave herself fully exposed. She could no longer see her quarry, but she knew he was out there.
She reloaded her camera. Not that it would do any good. In the last few hours she’d taken plenty of shots, but not a single one revealed anything that would excite a reader. The wolfman had made certain of that.
He’d toyed with Hannah all day, revealing himself just long enough for her to raise the camera, then vanishing so quickly she ended up with nothing but a glimpse of his fur-covered arm or a fleeting view of his
fur-covered back. Nothing that would identify him as a man clad entirely in bearskin and crude boots lashed high on his legs.
Hannah slung her camera over her shoulder then pulled out some strips of beef jerky. Across the clearing the branches suddenly parted and the wolfman emerged. Full frontal view.
If she reached for her camera he would vanish. No need to waste her time. Instead she held up the beef jerky.
“This is good. Do you want some?”
He tilted his head to one side, the movement fluid, graceful. He was standing as he had been near the entrance to the wolves’ den, perhaps imitating her, perhaps not. There was keen intelligence in his eyes. Through the years he had no doubt learned that his body was made for being upright, that he could move faster that way than on all fours.
Hannah chewed her meat, watching him watching her. She smiled. “Come over here and join me. I won’t hurt you. See?” She stretched her hands toward him, palms up in the age-old gesture of peace.
He didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, merely watched her with eyes that were strangely beautiful and powerfully disturbing.
She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. Hiking the mountain trails took stamina. Still watching the wolfman, she placed one piece of beef jerky on the upthrust root of the spruce.
“This is for you.” She gestured as she talked. Did he understand anything she was saying? He gave no indication. Instead he held her captive in a steady burning gaze.
Hannah turned away, shivering. It was time to move on.
“Let’s go,” she said. “You lead, I’ll follow.”
The wolfman vanished into the woods. He was gone so quickly Hannah couldn’t even see the branches move. Which way had he gone?
Upward, she guessed. She glanced back at the spruce tree to get her bearings and that’s when she noticed that the jerky she’d left on the tree root was gone. She hadn’t seen a thing. How had he done that?
Furthermore, she was losing her bearings. When she’d first started following the wolfman she’d known exactly how to get back to her camp. Then it seemed he’d led her in circles, deeper and deeper into the woods. Soon she’d have to make a decision: return to camp while she still knew the way or continue following him.
But how could she follow him when she could no longer see him?
“Where are you?” There was no response. Not even a breeze stirred the branches above her. “Please come back. I need you.”
He materialized so fast she jumped back. The wolfman was less than ten feet from her, and she would swear there was a twinkle of humor in his eyes.
She covered her heart with her hand, laughing.
“Don’t do that to me. You scared me half to death.”
Was that a smile? The expression was so fleeting she couldn’t be sure. Besides, he was moving rapidly now, not even glancing backward to see if she followed. Even if she hadn’t been making as much noise as a cow caught in a briar patch she knew that he would know. Years of living wild would have honed his senses to a keenness rivaling that of the wolf.
After half an hour Hannah found herself struggling to keep up. She was just getting ready to complain when he stopped on a high outcropping of rock and waited for her.
Did he read minds, too? That made twice in the last four hours he’d stopped to wait for her. It also added to the anecdotal evidence she’d collected that animals have a highly developed telepathic ability. Though he was no animal. Of that, she was all too aware.
She was getting ready to say, Let’s go, when he surged ahead. When Hannah realized where he was taking her, she laughed. He had led her on a five-hour tour only to arrive at the site of the wolves’ den less than an hour’s hike from her campsite.
Had he been toying with her? Testing her stamina? Testing her loyalty?
He was standing near the entrance to the cave, watching her.
“What now?” Hannah asked. “What do you want?”
He retreated a few paces, then moved toward the cave once more. The sun glistened on the skins he wore and on his gold-streaked hair. He looked like a god from the ancient myths—powerful, sensual and completely irresistible.
“Is that your cave? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
He ducked inside and the darkness swallowed him. Following him would be madness.
“No,” she said. “I won’t go in there.”
He reappeared and blocked the entrance. The way he stared at her was so compelling she felt as if invisible strings were tugging at her. The call of the wild, she thought, and then she became almost hysterical, for suddenly she realized why he had led her all day long.
It was part of the wolf’s mating ritual. Males left the pack to seek a mate. Once they found her, they led her through the forest until they could find a spot suitable for forming their own pack.
Hannah’s face burned as she thought of their encounter by firelight. The same urgent feelings were coursing through her now, and for one crazy moment she thought about casting her backpack aside and following this amazing primitive man into his lair.
Suddenly his head came up and his nostrils flared.
“Great,” she said. “Now I’m giving off come-and-get-me signals.”
Never taking his eyes from hers, he tossed his long hair.
“No.” Her voice was so soft she could hardly hear herself. “Not that I’m not tempted. Lord, you’d be out of that bearskin in a minute if you knew how much I’m tempted.”
So tempted that she’d forgotten her purpose. Pictures.
No sooner had she thought the word than the wolfman vanished. Not into the cave but into the brush nearby.
She had her camera up and shooting, but the only thing she captured was the tangled undergrowth as it closed behind him.
She waited for him until the sun started sinking, and then she hurried back to her camp. He didn’t follow her. If he had, she would know. That’s how attuned she was to him.
She stowed her gear, ate beans from the can then wrapped herself in a blanket and sat in front of her fire, still thinking of him.
And suddenly he was there, deep in the shadows watching her. She could feel his eyes on her, feel how her skin tingled and her breath shortened and her heart hammered.
Langor overtook her…and the familiar liquid heat.
“I will not,” she said.
He came closer, so close his eyes gleamed at her across the firelight. Though the moon was on the wane it was still full and bright. Washed in its light, he exerted a pull on her that was magical. Every fiber in her being yearned.
“No,” she whispered. “I must not.”
She banked her fire and walked into her tent where she lay in her sleeping bag with her hands balled into fists. Somewhere outside she could feel him, keeping his watch.
Chapter Four
October 31, 2001
Clarice came by earlier to bring me a bag of treats she’d made. She was in her usual Halloween getup—long black wig, green fright makeup, fake wart on her chin, tall pointy hat. I wish Michael could have seen her dress. She never wears the usual black. Makes my skin look sallow, she always says.
This year’s garb was a red sequined tube with a tulle ruffle that flared around her calves.
“It makes you look like a mermaid,” I said and she asked, “Yeah, but does it make me look sexy?”
She has a new boyfriend. Henry Somebody-or-Other. I can’t keep up.
She told me, “He’s coming trick-or-treating tonight, and I’m planning all kinds of tricks for him.”
Leave it to Clarice.
She’s outrageous. I used to be. Before Michael left. Having him to love made me more than I am, greater than the sum of my sagging parts.
I got to thinking about Halloweens past and I guess I started to cry because Clarice handed me a box of tissues and pulled up a chair as if she intended to stay all night. “Talk to me, Anne,” she said.
That’s all it took. “I was thinking about that time Michael made six dozen
popcorn balls and not a single person showed up at our door.”
“Why?”
“I think it stormed that year.”
“Ninety-six. I remember it well. I was just back from Paris.”
“Yes, that’s when it was. Michael had just come back from filming in the Dolomites,” I said.
“That movie with that great-looking Italian actress with the hips I’d kill for?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I guess that’s why I figured I had to do something wild and crazy to get his attention.”
“Shoot, Anne, you’d always had Michael’s attention.”
“Well, I know it, but still it never hurts to keep the excitement going.… I told Michael I was going to take a bath, and when he said he thought he’d join me, I told him, no, you stay here to answer the door just in case somebody comes.”
“This is good already. I can just imagine what you were up to.”
“Have I already told you this story? Stop me if I have.”
“If you have I don’t remember. See. All your secrets are safe with me, Anne.”
“I know that. Anyhow, I stripped off my clothes, and put on an old black trench coat of Michael’s. Then I put on a long black wig and sneaked outside and rang the doorbell.”
Clarice was already laughing. “You didn’t.”
“I did. Michael looked so cute when he opened the door, that expectant smile on his face and a basket of popcorn balls in his hands. ‘Trick or treat!’ I yelled, then I flung open the raincoat and stood there buck naked.”
By the time I got to that part I was laughing so hard I could barely talk.
“Don’t leave me in suspense. What happened next?”
“I never expected to fool him, but I guess I did because he jumped backward and tripped over the umbrella stand. He hit it so hard he gashed his head, and I ended up taking him to the emergency room for stitches.”
Oh, it felt so good to laugh. I wish Clarice had stayed here all night, which was absolutely selfish of me. She has her own life, somebody waiting for her at home, somebody who will take her in his arms and tell her she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and then make love to her. All night if she wants to.
