by Tamar Sloan
I pick at the blue comforter. “Well, we’ve done what we came here to do. The vaccines have been delivered and the pack knows what to do with them.” I shrug. “Doesn’t seem to be any reason to stay.”
He narrows his eyes. Dammit. There’s his brain ticking over. “Something’s changed.”
My hand clenches around the material. Josh is the one person who’s going to see past this. “Achak needs me. I left him to rush off and do this. Now that it’s done, I want to head back.”
“We literally just got here.”
Flipping the comforter off, I clamber past him. Staying still is no longer an option. “There’s no point discussing it. I’ve already made the bookings.”
“But—”
“I need to get dressed, Josh. We’ll have to go say goodbye to Dawn.”
And if I’m lucky, I won’t see Hunter again.
Josh holds himself there, and I know he’s wondering whether he should push this. I hold my breath; my aching chest can’t handle any more pressure right now. Josh turns and heads for the door, but his narrowed gaze and tight lips tell me this isn’t over.
I sag once he’s gone. How do I explain that I’d put all my hopes on a dream? A vivid, recurring, and truly realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless? I’d sound as naive and foolish as I looked yesterday. And as much as his words hurt, Hunter was right. That’s not a mistake I’m willing to repeat.
I dress a little more carefully than yesterday. Both because I now know that I’m always being seen through the filter of the Prime Prophecy child, but mostly because I need some sort of armor. I choose a dark top, this one a little tighter than yesterday, like it will help keep me together.
Everyone is in the kitchen when I arrive. It’s hard to work up a smile, but I manage it. Lauren has a bowl and the box of Mocha Munch in front of me before I’ve even sat down.
“Thank you.” I pick up my spoon, knowing I need to get this over and done with. “We’re heading home tonight.”
“Oh.” Lauren looks like I just killed her puppy. “Is there something wrong?”
“Oh gosh, no. You’ve made us feel very welcome.”
Riley crosses her arms. “You were talking of disseminating the vaccine yesterday.”
I look down at my plate. This cereal tastes worse than it did yesterday. “I’m sorry. I’ve discovered I need to get back to Jacksonville. There’s a wolf that needs me. I’ve already booked our flights.”
Lauren glances at Riley. “But…”
Riley shakes her head. “Looks like it’s been decided.”
Her mother turns to the sink. “Well, that settles it, then.”
I look to Josh to see if he’s going to ask what they’re talking about, but he’s staring at his bowl. His face as he eats the cocoa covered sugar cubes isn’t comical today. His expression seems to mirror how uncomfortable this conversation is. And it hasn’t finished yet. “I was hoping to go out to Resolve again today.”
Lauren turns, that smile back on her face. “Of course. I have to work today, but Riley can take you.”
I feel like I’ve just used a royalty card I never wanted to be dealt. “Thank you.”
Riley rises from her seat. She dumps her bowl in the sink and walks out.
I shrink within myself even more.
I too, wish things had been different.
The buildings and fences of the Resolve program strike me with their familiarity again. It’ll be good to go home and be somewhere that feels right but actually belong.
We’ve just walked in the door when Joshua and Riley disappear down the hall to the right. Neither bothers to let me know where they’re going. I allow myself a moment to wince. I get that they’re upset with me.
Walking straight ahead, I remember Dawn’s offer to show me around. I would have liked to have seen the wolves here. Arctic wolves are unique not just in their snow-white coats, but their stockier ears and muzzles. They’re an animal designed to live in the some of the harshest climates Mother Nature could design. Even before—I mentally shy away from where my thoughts were heading—even as a child I admired and respected them.
I haven’t gone far when I come to an open door. Inside is what looks like an office, and Dawn is sitting at one of the desks. Hers is the only one that isn’t cluttered with paper and coffee cups. A smile lightens my chest a little. She always loved neatness and structure and outcomes. There was never a loose end with Dawn.
She turns to find me standing in the doorway. “Ava. I’m glad you’re here.”
I open my mouth to share the news that I’m leaving, but Dawn is already walking toward me. She scoops me in her arm and propels me back down the hall.
“We need to get the first vaccine in.”
“Oh, I—”
“No time. I thought you understood how important it is that we do this as soon as possible.”
Glancing at my watch, I figure I have time. And there’s something in Dawn’s voice that holds me back.
“Our breeding pair was in the first enclosure.”
Was? Taking a sudden left, she opens a door and I find myself outside again, a tall fence in front of us. I’m about to ask what she means but I pause. Movement at the far end of the enclosure captures my attention.
Three arctic wolves have just stood up, ears erect, tails high. The sense of familiarity hits me again, but this time it doesn’t make sense. It’s logical that I’d recognize the enclosures and setup here. It’s so similar to home.
But why would I feel like I’ve met these ones before? As much as I’ve loved arctic wolves, I’ve never seen one. Well, not in real life…
One white, thick tail starts to twitch, and like a Mexican wave, the others join in. Then all three start flapping about. These wolves are getting excited about something. Just as I think it, one jumps forward before the rest. I somehow know that the smallest one will hang back. The middle one will get over-excited and mouth the smaller one.
How do I know this?
Then I see what got them all hyped up. A person is entering through the gateway at the back. A person who has my breath hitching and my heart clenching.
The three wolves leap at Hunter, who has his arms open wide. They topple him like a soggy snowman and he goes down on his knees. Straight away he’s inundated by a tidal wolf hug. They jump and pounce all over him, licking his face—the canine happy greeting that also communicates submission. What really catches my breath is Hunter’s face. He’s smiling.
At a distance, he looks amazing. At a distance, he’s everything I thought he would be. Tall and strong. Deeply connected with the animals. A heart that I already recognize.
Like he’s been stuck with a cattle prod, his head shoots up. Across this distance, his gaze connects with mine. The recognition intensifies and my chest fills with joy and pain all at the same time. It’s a feeling that lifts and sinks simultaneously.
How could I have been so wrong?
“Shall we keep moving?”
There’s an urgency in Dawn’s voice that I don’t understand, but she’s already striding away. When I turn back, Hunter has gone back to playing with the wolves. Confused and hurting, I hurry to follow Dawn.
The breeding enclosure is at the far end. This is where wolves picked for their genetic fitness are paired together in the hope they’ll breed. It’s a choice made carefully, one designed to maximize genetic diversity, while being conscious that wolves mate for life. Once they choose, only death can undo the connection.
Dawn kneels, dropping the vet pack beside her. “I’ll need to sedate her first. She’s one of the first we caught and has always remained a little wild.”
Looking in, I can only see one animal, and it doesn’t look like it needs sedating. A white wolf is lying listlessly at the back corner. Even the sound of us approaching didn’t have her moving.
I walk further down the length of the fence, wanting to get a better look at her. As our thread comes to life she sits up, looking around. When her canine eyes find
me, she stands completely.
Without a doubt, I know we’ve met before.
The hand that was coming up to grip the fence stops. I was so sure about so many other things too…
The wolf rises, and steps forward. She studies me, an intense moment that has me captive. With slow, measured steps she comes forward. It’s all so familiar. Her proud lines, her alabaster fur, the way she tucks in her chin when assessing something.
I crumple to my knees as my legs give out. Like it’s what she was waiting for, the wolf approaches me. With a steady lope, she stands before me, the wire of the fence separating us. My hand lifts and presses into the metal. The wolf moves, her head pressing against my palm. For some reason, tears sting the edges of my vision.
I hear Dawn behind me. “I’ve never seen Sakari behave like this before.”
Sakari. So that’s her name. So many images are flooding my mind. Sakari wrapped around her pups. Sakari running over the snow with her pack beside her.
How can those images be a dream when she’s right in front of me? Why do they feel so much like memories?
The last is the most vivid—Sakari with her mate.
“Where’s her alpha mate?”
Dawn freezes, the syringe halting midair. “Do you think you can hold her there, whilst I give her the vaccine?”
She didn’t answer my questions, but I suppose we need to focus. “Ah, I can try.”
Turning back to Sakari I curl my fingers through the wire. “We need you to hold still, old friend.”
Sakari’s ears zero in on my voice. She holds there, and I know she’s judging whether she should trust me.
I wait. Trust is born of respect and time, and I’m willing to give her both.
After long moments, Sakari turns, her body parallel to the fence. She would have had vaccinations before as part of her annual health check. But I doubt she’s ever chosen to do it, or been awake for it.
Dawn leans in, her movements slow but sure. No doubt she’d be weaving her Fae magic, working to keep Sakari calm, and I wonder how much of it has played a part in what’s happening. A quick pinch of the thick white fur at Sakari’s shoulder and the injection is administered. With the same confident movements, Dawn administers the second shot.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Losing such an amazing animal to such an awful disease would be heart-breaking.
With a last glance, Sakari takes herself back to her corner where she lies down. Why do I get the sense she isn’t happy? Is she sick? Is it the captivity?
In that moment, with images that I don’t know if they’re fiction or real, I make a decision that I know doesn’t make sense.
“I’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Of course you will be.” Dawn’s states it like it’s obvious. She looks out to Sakari, jaw tight. “You obviously haven’t been told. We lost our alpha male to Furious last night.”
Hunter
18 MONTHS BEFORE
“The place looks like a bunker.” KJ leans back, stretching his spine.
I shove the desk another inch to the left. “Seems fitting.”
Six months of planning and hard work have certainly happened. Securing the old DEW Line building had been easy, almost seamless. On the days that hate morphs into loathing for this whole set up, I suspect Dawn had already started some sort of negotiations.
But then KJ points out the committed, passionate person Dawn is, and suggests that I’m spending too much time in the dark.
Setting up the fences had been next. As much as Dawn had explained that the enclosures were as big as was affordable, and we needed to be able to see the wolves on a regular basis to monitor them, they’d never seemed big enough. Watching those prison walls going up had been hard.
The last step was decking out the building. Lugging this desk, which I’m pretty sure came from an army barrack somewhere, a place designed to withstand a nuclear attack judging by the weight of it, is the last piece of furniture. KJ had called it a ‘challenge’ to try and get it through the front door, down the hall, then through another doorway.
I call it the cherry on this bittersweet pie.
KJ dusts his hands on his jeans. “It’s almost ready to go.”
A feeling, a familiar one now, stabs me in the stomach. “Yep.”
“We had to do it, Hunter. You made the right call.”
I sigh. “That’s what I keep telling myself.”
“This year when Sakari and Zephyr breed, their pups will have the best chance they can.”
“I know.”
His hand lands on my shoulder. “And they’ll be safe from poachers and disease and all the other stuff that goes wrong out there.”
I throw him a wry glance. “We’ve been over this.”
He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “And we’ll keep going over it until that frown gets turned upside down.”
Shrugging his hand off I shake my head at him. “You’ll have to flip me for that to happen.”
KJ grins. “Challenge accepted.”
KJ goes to grab my knees but he’s forgotten I know his Achilles heel. I grab his beanie, hand scrunching up the wool so it starts to pull up. His hands instantly come up to keep it down.
“That’s playing dirty!”
I don’t relax my grip. “You know me. Nothing’s sacred if it means getting the job done.”
He elbows me and I release it. Stepping away, he readjusts the glorified tea cozy on his head. “I suppose the world should be grateful you use your powers for good then.”
I shrug. “Now there’s an assumption on your part.”
KJ’s double checking the placement of his beanie as Dawn appears in the doorway. Her hands hike up on her hips as she takes in the office space. “It’s looking good, guys.”
Scanning around, I decide it depends on your perspective. As a prison for breeding an almost extinct species? Yep, it does look good. As a place where wolves can be free and happy? Not so much.
She smiles at us. “It’s nice to find someone just as committed to this cause. We’re going to make a great team.”
KJ shrugs. “This is important.” He walks over to the backpack he brought and pulls out a stack of papers. “This is the stuff you asked for.”
Dawn heads to the mammoth desk and pulls up a seat. She takes a few moments to leaf through the data I’ve collected and KJ has collated since we started working with the wolves.
Those green tilted eyes of hers look up at us both. “This is quite comprehensive.”
I can practically hear KJ blush. He steps over and shuffles a few pages. “This is what I could put together for their genetic history.”
Dawn leans in closer, eyes scanning. “Hmm. This is exactly the sort of information we need.” She looks up at us. “We can just about start breeding straight away.”
KJ’s breath whooshes out. “That’s great.”
Dawn’s head is already buried in the papers again. “You have some extensive family lineages here.”
There’s the scratch under the beanie. “Yeah. I…ah…did some research. We want to create as much genetic diversity as we can with the matings, that way the wolves we release are increasing the genetic vigor of the wild population.”
“Exactly. Who are these two?” She points to something on one of the pages.
“We brought Zephyr down from the north. And—”
“How?” Dawn looks genuinely surprised.
I answer that one. “Trails of road kill. He followed them like Hansel and Gretel and the breadcrumb trail.”
Dawn weighs up the answer. “Smart move. And the other one?”
“My guess is that’s Sakari. Zephyr was just as excited to see her as we were that he agreed with our match.”
“They were a good match. You two have done well.”
I put up my hands before she jumps to too many assumptions…like that I think this whole system is a good idea. “He’s the brains, I’m the brawn.”
KJ snorts. “More like I’m the data collector, an
d you’re the one who has to make the calls.”
Dawn smiles a gentle Fae smile. “Well, you’re not alone now. Neither of you.”
I don’t smile back, but KJ sure does. It’s something I’ve been watching over the past few months. I don’t know if it’s KJ’s desperate drive to save the wolves, or the lack of a strong parent figure in his life, maybe it’s both, but Dawn has become a mentor for him.
I’m actually glad. This work can be lonely and isolating. I’ve found someone who can share this with me, it’s only fair he has someone in his own way.
Dawn is back to pouring over the pages. I cross my arms and lean against another of the desks. KJ is twiddling with the edge of one of his sleeves. Now the facilities have been set up, we need to start looking at our next steps.
Several pages have been read and flipped before Dawn looks back up again. She glances at her watch before looking at KJ. “You have an interest in genetics, don’t you?”
Man, was that a blush?
“It’s actually really fascinating. We can learn so much through what genes remain in the population. It tells us what’s the next best step.”
A sound comes from the hallway and Dawn looks like she’s going to bust a happy bubble. “Well, you’ll be excited to see these then.”
She heads to the door and disappears down the hall. KJ and I look at each other. What is she up to now?
“This way,” her voice carries back to us. “Be careful please.”
She enters again, but this time there’s someone behind her. A man follows, pushing a trolley. On it are two smallish wooden crates.
KJ practically leaps forward. “Microscopes?”
Dawn looks like a proud parent. “They most certainly are.”
“No freaking way!”
“And that’s not all…”
Another man follows the first, this time pushing a trolley with a much larger crate. KJ is beside it in a second, fingers tracing the label on the side. He looks up at Dawn, eyes the size of plates, mouth moving like he’s forgotten how to speak.
“A thermal cycler?” His voice is filled with disbelief.
