The Call (The Great North Woods Pack Book 2)

by Shawn Underhill

  “They’re after us,” Evie said.

  “That was my guess. And while we’re at guesses, don’t think I haven’t noticed the other strange things,” Ed said slyly. “I started out as a boy looking up to Mr. Ludlow. Now I’m an old man and he looks better than me.” He laughed. “Of course, I don’t say a word. He’s a good man; does lots for this town, and others. He helped keep the paper mill—where I worked for years—open for as long as he could. Keeps his prices low on all the goods he sells, and provides lots of folk with steady work. Can’t ask for a better guy than that. So why would I ever make trouble for him?”

  “So when you saw me tonight,” Evie said, “there was no doubt in your mind that you were trying to help my grandfather.”

  “None at all. Not that I have any regrets for helping you instead, understand.”

  Evie smiled. “Thanks.”

  “No need. Now, as I was saying, I knew better than to ask Joe anything. The way I figured it, if I waited quietly for long enough, I’d get another chance to see the animal I’ve never forgotten. My wife enjoys ribbing me, but that wolf changed my life. Sure, I’d go out hunting with my pa growing up, but I never had much desire to kill animals. After seeing that white wolf just once … I couldn’t bring myself to shoot as much as a mangy coyote.”

  “Just cats?”

  “Only because I came to understand them as trouble. And to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever killed one. I’ve found blood trails but never a single body. They can take a hit, that’s for sure.” He stood up quickly. “Enough about them. You should see my animals.”

  “Darling,” Lucile sighed. “Evie has enough on her mind.”

  “No,” Evie said, thinking as she promptly stood up that she could easily have been clawed to death if not for this man. “Let me see.”

  ~4~

  The room at the end of the short hall was a shrine to wildlife.

  As Evie stepped in scanning the walls, she saw two stuffed and mounted dear heads, a stuffed beaver, and trophy fish on wooden mounts. But predominantly the theme of the room was wolves—both painted prints and carvings of various wolves dominated the small space. One wolf was equal in size to a common gray wolf. Sitting back on its haunches with alert ears, it appeared to be carved from the solid stump of a large tree.

  “A friend gave me this doe,” Ed said, stroking the deer’s soft neck. “Most fellas only want the bucks, but I ain’t most fellas. Just look at her beautiful face.”

  “Did you carve all of these?” Evie asked, touching the head of the large carved wolf.

  “Sure did, it’s been my hobby for years. I’ve even made a little money selling some.”

  “They’re wonderful,” Evie said, looking at the old man. “I wouldn’t have guessed there’d be someone … like you.”

  “Like me,” Ed laughed. “I don’t feel threatened by the wolves, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That’s what I mean.”

  “I’m sure there are plenty who would be more than worried about it. A few would be downright hostile. That’s another reason why I’ve kept my mouth shut. I knew what I’d seen was something very special, something that should be let alone as special. I don’t want anybody taking shots at your family, Miss Ludlow. It would break my heart to see them hunted as much as yours.”

  “Thank you,” Evie said softly. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  Ed opened his mouth to say something but then halted suddenly. The sound of his dogs barking from the kitchen had drawn his full attention. Evie held her breath as she listened.

  “Might be another cat out there,” Ed whispered. “Let me grab my other rifle.”

  Evie rushed to the kitchen ahead of him, sniffing the air as deeply as she could in human form. She couldn’t get a clear scent beyond the dogs that were now in full panic.

  “Careful now,” Ed said as Evie cracked the door and poked her nose out.

  “I just need a clean breath.”

  “Get those dogs downstairs,” Ed whispered to Lucile. “We can’t have ’em carrying on like this if this girl’s trying to use her senses.”

  Evie took three long, deep breaths in through her nose before she turned to face Ed. “I want to say it’s a wolf,” she whispered. “I can’t be totally sure though.”

  “Let’s get out on the porch,” Ed replied. “But don’t you try fighting if it is a cat. No use risking it. Let me plug ’em with this 30.30. I got plenty of rounds, trust me.”

  Cautiously they stepped out—an old man with a gun and a teenaged girl in too large pajamas. Ed was smiling like a big kid, and Evie was scanning the tree line beyond the clothesline, where they had earlier entered the yard.

  “I think,” Evie said. “I want to say …”

  “What, what?”

  “It’s my grandfather, I think. He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. I don’t know; I’ve been wrong before. I’m new at this.”

  “Don’t go too far,” Ed warned. “Could be a trick for all we know.”

  ***

  Now from the dark tree line they both heard a faint sound over the crickets. Ed strained but could not identify the sound, but Evie, taking a relieved breath, recognized it instantly as a subtle utterance from the white wolf—her grandfather’s voice, softly speaking her name. Her heart leapt. Fresh energy rushed through her.

  “It’s okay,” she assured Ed. “It’s my grandfather. I heard his voice.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.” Then louder she said, “I’m here, Papa. It’s safe.”

  Both descended the steps and began moving across the damp lawn. From the edge of the woods there came the sounds of sticks breaking under heavy feet. Bushes rustled, and the white wolf stepped out from the dark, halting after several paces onto the grass, where he stood looking like a green-eyed ghost.

  With pricked ears and searching eyes the white wolf surveyed the yard. His granddaughter stood close by. An older woman stood on the porch, and a man, holding a rifle, stood halfway between. A deep rumble began from the pit of his belly.

  “I’m okay,” Evie told him.

  At the same moment Ed whispered, “Holy Mother and all the saints! Look at him, Lucy! Look at the size of him!”

  “Everything is okay,” Evie told her grandfather, stepping closer to set him at ease. “They knew about us before tonight. Ed shot a cat that was trying to kill me. Then we came here to hide.”

  The white wolf fixed his eyes on the old man, holding the man in his tracks with his intense gaze. The rumble from within him faded as he evaluated the man, and as he stepped slowly, heavily closer, the expression of his green eyes became less wary. His prickly crest softened over his back.

  “That’s right, I plugged him, Joe,” the old man explained. “I caught him harassing this young lady here that I’d mistaken for you. Got one clear shot on him and sent him off bleeding bad.”

  “He saw you change into the wolf,” Evie explained, “when he was just a little boy. Don’t be angry with him, he loves the wolves. He’s been waiting all his life to see you again.”

  “He is honest,” her grandfather told her with a low sound. “A harmless trespasser in his younger years, I recall the day in question. Thank him. Thank them both. I will meet formally with them when time allows. Now, you and I must hurry.”

  Evie translated the message for the old couple as quickly as she could without seeming impolite.

  “No need to thank me,” Ed said through a large smile, stepping closer to the wolf. “This has been the most exciting night of my life.”

  The white wolf lowered his head respectfully. “Tell them,” he said to Evie, “the threats have passed for the night. The cats are now scattered, but be wary in the days to follow. Trouble is imminent.”

  Again Evie translated as old Ed stood gripping his rifle tighter.

  “You can bet I’ll be watching,” he said with a confident nod. “I’m used to keeping an eye and an ear to these woods.”

&
nbsp; The white wolf raised his head again. “Come now,” he instructed Evie, and began turning his large frame for the tree line. “We have a long night ahead of us.”

  Once more Evie thanked the old couple before following her grandfather into the trees. Ed fumbled his words while Lucile waved from the porch. Just into the dark she shed the loaned clothing, tossed them toward the grass, and became the silver-white wolf with ease. Then with a quick spin and snap she took up the clothing with her teeth, and springing from the trees, she dropped them at old Ed’s feet and stood back with an excited yip, her tail spinning like a propeller.

  “Get on home,” the old man said. His face could have been no more childlike if he were Peter Pan himself. “You’re in good company.”

  As Evie yelped happily and pranced away to catch her grandfather, old Ed stood watching the place in the tree line where the two wolves had disappeared, his heart full of an odd mixture of sadness and awe. Regardless of his wife’s coaxing, he would not return to his house until the sounds of their steps had long faded in the distance.

  ***

  “I’m so glad you’re back,” the young wolf said to her elder when she’d caught up to his side. She was prancing like a happy puppy with exuberant strides.

  “Your control increases,” the white wolf said. “Impressive.”

  “It’s all in the mind, Right?”

  “It is.”

  “I’m just using my mind better.”

  “In that regard you are. But your other decisions please me less. The events of this evening were no party for your attendance, yours or your cousin’s. You should not have been here.”

  “I had no choice,” she whined. The small hint of dissatisfaction from the white wolf weighed suddenly on her heart. “Are you angry about Ed?”

  “Only that you placed yourself within need of his help. The man is as honest as they come. He will be rewarded for his good deeds. Now,” he said with a slight turn of his head and a flash of his intense eye. “That is no cat mark on your shoulder. Who left it?”

  “You know who.”

  “What for?”

  “I was trying to keep her from following Abel on the hunt.”

  “Ah,” he grumbled. “It was good of you to try. My brother’s influence is not easily lost on the young and impressionable. She is with him now regardless, I trust.”

  For a second Evie began to ask a question regarding Abel, but the subject, she could sense, was a touchy one with her grandfather. His mood, she felt strongly, was not his usual. So she moved on quietly at his side until she realized that they were nearing the wide trail that lead north to the cornfield.

  “Won’t we check on Emmy?” she asked then. “She was hurt terribly.”

  “No,” the white wolf rumbled. “I will attend to business; you will go home. Put your mother and grandmother at ease. They keep the children while all available wolves aid in the work.”

  “But, Papa,” Evie began.

  “Go,” he said with the hint of a growl. “Help with the children, and do not let them see you this way. The night is far from over. Later, there will be a meeting at Moon Rock, which you will attend.”

  “Can’t I go with you now?” Evie asked. Her tail was tucked and flicking hopefully, her head was bobbing, her eyes staring straight and pleading.

  The white wolf moved on silently, his non answer speaking volumes. He stopped upon entering the wide trail, scenting the air as he turned his great head back and forth.

  “Can’t I go with you?” Evie asked again, softly.

  “You may not.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it is a grizzly business I go to,” he answered. As he spoke his head hung lower and his eyes dimmed. “The dead are being dealt with, and you cannot see your friend as she is now.”

  After taking several small steps away from him, Evie turned back. “Will she make it, Papa?”

  “No,” he said softly.

  “But—”

  “I am sorry, my dear. She has already passed.”

  “No,” Evie yelped sharply, as if she’d been struck. Her strong legs buckled as the cries poured from her muzzle. With her body sinking, she shivered from scruff to tail, and following instinct, she began working her powerful nose in a desperate attempt to locate her friend’s scent.

  “Trust me,” said the white wolf standing over her. “Her living scent has gone from the world. Try as you may, you will not find her again. There is only death in that direction; run from it. Run home now and do as I’ve told you.”

  The young wolf began whining frantically, pacing back and forth. “Don’t we heal well? Don’t we heal? Can’t her father help? Can’t he? Can’t you help?”

  “Settle,” the old wolf urged the young. With his strong voice softened he said, “We heal fast, yes. But our magic goes only so far. As all others we require blood. Once it is spilled, the body ceases. Nothing can be done.”

  “No, no, no,” the young wolf moaned, pacing and shaking in a fit of grief.

  “I am sorry, my dear,” her grandfather said. Moving his great bulk with careful care, he nuzzled the young silver-white sympathetically. “This night has been nothing but tragic. My own heart aches too, with both loss and blame.”

  “No,” Evie whined in a knee-jerk reaction, but now she held still against the white wolf’s strong presence. She could feel her grandfather’s sorrow in her own body, from his voice, from his touch, and his differing scent. Very suddenly she moved beyond shock and beyond anger to a cold and hollow despair. She had never felt such a profound sense of loss, and in that strange moment she did not wish to be the volatile wolf anymore, she wished to be the less-feeling human, curled up numbly in the house, maybe near the fire—anything to distract her from the drastic sense of loss and helplessness she now felt. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  “Go on,” her grandfather said softly. “Home is your only comfort now.”

  “Papa,” she pleaded one last time, hoping against hope.

  “Go,” he said firmer. “The way is clear. Hurry there.”

  With her head low, Evie gave up hope and obeyed. Loping along with a whistling cry in her nose, her runner’s body felt heavy as she moved, devoid of its typical vibrancy. Her eyes worked only enough to guide her stride-by-stride along the wide trail, and she ceased using her nose at all.

  When she turned with a bend in the trail, the white wolf that had stood watching her go swung around to the south. Forcing himself on, he ran to the scene of the crime he wished never to see again.

  ***

  In the lower cornfield, safe on family land, the young wolf lifted her head to the night sky. The moon was large and low in the sky, but the thickening clouds dimmed its light, darkening her already heavy mood. She inhaled deeply, and when she exhaled she gave voice to her every feeling, pouring her grief into a long and mournful cry.

  As with any wolf, the tune of the death wail required no rehearsal, no coercion; it came all too naturally to her. More than grief, in her cry there was also a childish wish that could be no more heartfelt. It was a searching call mingled with a desperate plea that no amount of reasoning could sway her from singing. I cannot hear you, she sang. I cannot feel you. Where have you gone? Won’t you come back? Answer me! Laugh with me and run at my side. Come back! Oh, won’t you come back?

  Over and again she sang this song to the hazy sky, joined sporadically by one or two stray voices of her fellow mourners in the distance. And only when she had cried herself weary did she move from that lonely place. With her head low, she began her listless trot toward the house.

  ~5~

  Wrapped in her warm robe, Evie was met at the front door by one of her small second cousins. Fighting back tears, she made eye contact with her mother across the room, pleading for help, before looking down at the eager little boy.

  “Evie, you look sad,” Zachary said.

  “Do I?” she faked.

  “Uh-huh
.”

  She bent down and scooped the little boy up, squeezing him as she straightened. “I’m not sad to see you,” she said as she carried him to the couch.

  “Are you okay?” Janie asked her daughter.

  “No,” she answered through a forced smile. “I’m not.”

  Janie motioned for her niece, Jennifer, to come occupy Zachary, and then led her daughter up the stairs. In the quiet of the bedroom she listened to Evie’s teary summary of the evening, and of the awful fate of the young Wilson wolf.

  “Don’t worry,” she assured her daughter. “We’ve handled the kids all evening. Just stay up here and try to relax. Take a bath or something.”

  “Did they see anything?”

  “A few of them caught glimpses, but most were just confused by the excitement. We’ve tried to sidestep the issue as best we could and keep them occupied.”

  “I understand it now,” Evie said. “Papa is right. The kids shouldn’t know about any of this. It’s terrible.”

  “I know, baby.”

  “I wish none of this ever happened, Mom. I wanna go back to the way it was—back to my safe, boring life.”

  “I know,” Janie said, holding her daughter tightly. She didn’t know what else to say. “Try to relax. Papa will be home shortly, and he’ll set us all at ease.”

  ***

  In the dark Evie lay on her side on the bed. She was watching the signal bars on her phone bounce in and out of relevance. She had typed a choppy message, addressed it to her two friends from home, Jess and Amy, and stored it in the drafts folder. When one bar showed steadily for about a minute, she sent the message.

  Sorry up in NH bad cell service. Friend of the family died. Ugh so sad. Miss you. Call when I can <3E

  At least I’m not lying to them, she thought. Yet.

  When the screen blinked, indicating that the message had been sent, Evie shut the phone off and set it on the bed stand. Even if they did respond and the service held out, she didn’t feel capable of a fake conversation.