PRINCE OF WOLVES

by Susan Krinard

  "Here," he called. She trailed after him and crouched at the place he indicated. "The fragment was caught between these rocks." He looked up at the mountain. "The plane must have hit there, at the sheerest point of the slope. There wouldn't have been anything above the tree line to keep the wreckage from scattering and falling or sliding down into the lake. Except here. "

  Here. Joey set down the fragment carefully and began to search among the boulders, sifting through layers of pine needles and humus. She heard Luke working beside her, grateful for his presence, for the matter-of-fact detachment that reminded her of her purpose. There would be time for emotions later.

  They found other pieces of metal, twisted and dull, as they worked their way down toward the shore of the lake. Joey gathered them into a neat pile, like a burial cairn, and returned to the search. Luke called a halt at noon, and they sat at the lake's edge, close but not touching, their reflections dwarfed by that of the mountain above.

  "It's not enough," Joey said quietly.

  Luke tossed a stone into the crystal water, and Joey watched the ripples arc outward until they disappeared. "You need to be certain," he said.

  She looked at him across the narrow span of earth and rock that separated them. He understood. She could have reached out and touched him, asked him to hold her in this lonely place, and he would have understood. But she wrapped her arms around herself tightly and got to her feet, kicking more stones into the lake.

  "This is your world, Luke," she said. "You've been right about a lot of things. But I never realized how hard it would be to make your world give up its secrets."

  "Joey—"

  She shook her head and began to walk along the shore, Luke like a shadow at her heels. The hollow ache in her chest grew more intense as the day waned. She felt the wilderness as a living thing, rejecting her, mocking her, refusing to yield what she must have. It had taken her parents, but it would give her nothing in return.

  Something wild rose in Joey then. She flung her head back and stared into the setting sun. She opened her heart and her senses and set aside the rationality she had lived by all her life.

  Listen to me, she told the forests and peaks and clear water Let me find them, let me be free, and I'll give you whatever you demand.

  "Joey." Luke's low voice shook her from the spell she had woven about herself, and she jerked around to face him. His eyes were unreadable, his expression as stark as the mountain itself. "It's time to make camp. Tomorrow—"

  "No, Luke. Not yet." Joey looked through him and beyond, her feet moving before she recognized the strange certainty that drove her. She retraced her steps one by one, letting her eyes search without focusing until they caught the glint of dying sunlight on metal.

  The plaque was half-buried in pebbles and silt, traces of brightness still visible through the rust Joey knelt and dug it out, rinsing it in lake water with gentle hands.

  She traced the engraved words, still readable, with a trembling finger. To Jameson Randall, beloved husband and father.

  " 'Free as Nature first made man...' "

  Joey felt the warmth of Luke's breath as he knelt beside her. He read the quote like a eulogy, his fingertips brushing over hers.

  "It was a gift," she whispered, her throat suddenly full and tight. "The plane was a gift from my mother, after Dad's old one gave out. She saved up for it for years. I remember when we gave it to him, and she had this plaque installed in the cockpit.

  Words failed, and she bent over the plaque and held it tightly to her chest. I found you, she said silently. I found you. She looked out over the water and thought of her parents, sleeping beneath that still and lovely surface.

  Warmth wrapped around her, real and certain. Luke pulled her back against his chest and enfolded her in his arms while the years melted away and she became a child again. She heard her parents' voices, their last words to her so long ago.

  "I love you, Mom and Dad," she whispered. "I love you." And then the tears came, released from the place where she had hidden them. She turned into Luke's embrace and clung to him as he held her against the storm.

  The sun had turned the lake to liquid fire when peace came at last. Luke released her without a word when she pulled away gently, touching his face with her hand, and got stiffly to her feet. He followed as she climbed up from the lake's edge to the cairn she had begun and helped her gather stones to cover the wreckage, until only the plaque remained.

  In the hush of dusk Joey set the plaque at the top of the cairn and wedged it in place. Only then did Luke leave her side. She stood before the cairn, alone but no longer bereft. It seemed right that she should say her last good-byes as darkness fell, that she should feel the burden of sadness lifted with the coming of night.

  She found Luke crouched at the water's edge.

  "Thank you, Luke."

  He looked up, a handful of earth sifting from his opened fist. In the dim light she could see nothing of his expression.

  "Was it enough, Joey?"

  She understood what he asked "Yes," she murmured, kneeling beside him. "I feel—as if I know they're at peace now."

  For a long moment she listened to the rhythm of his breathing, letting the new, unfamiliar contentment wash over her. "For the first time in years I feel free."

  Luke looked away, his profile silhouetted against the afterglow that lingered on the water. "Then there's no reason we can't return tomorrow."

  Joey froze in the act of reaching out to touch him. Less than an hour ago he had held her while she cried as she had never cried before, rocked her like a child and shared her grief as only another orphan could. Now his voice was distant, almost cold, and as he turned back to her he flinched from her extended hand.

  She let her arm fall. "It's so beautiful here," she said. "If we could stay a few more days..."

  "No." Abruptly he got to his feet, setting his back to her. "The weather could change any time. We've been lucky so far, but I want you out of the mountains and—" He broke off, but the word he would have spoken echoed between them.

  Gone. He wanted her gone. Staring blindly at his back, Joey folded her arms across her chest.

  She had what she had wanted of him. He had done what he'd promised. She had laid her parents to rest, and she could go on now—on with her life, looking ahead instead of behind.

  But when she looked ahead, it wasn't her old job in San Francisco that she saw, or the constricted life she had left there. Luke filled her sight, a dark shape standing on the path that led into a limitless future. Waiting just beyond the void left in her heart when her parents had died.

  What do you want, Joey? she asked herself. The questioned echoed in her heart and went unanswered.

  Releasing her breath slowly, Joey rose and moved to stand behind Luke. His body tensed, muscles going rigid at her nearness, as if he had thrown an invisible wall up between them.

  She might have backed away. It would have been a simple thing. But there was a strange new joy in her that would not be silenced, a sense of hope that nourished her natural stubbornness.

  Luke had been a mystery from the first day she had met him, and that mystery had only deepened in their time together in Val Cache and on the trail. Luke wanted her gone, out of his life, for reasons she didn't understand.

  Not yet

  You won't find it quite so easy to get rid of me, she told him silently. I never give up until I find all the answers.

  As if he'd heard her thoughts, Luke jerked his head up sharply. His nostrils flared "The wind is shifting," he murmured, almost too softly for her to hear. He pivoted and took several steps away, looking deliberately over Joey's head. "We'll make an early start in the morning."

  He was walking away before she realized it. She stared after him, setting her jaw. "As early as you like, Luke," she breathed. "As early as you like."

  Slowly she made her way back up the slope, pausing to brush her hand gently over the weathered surface of the plaque that was her parents' final monument.
Free as Nature first made man.

  "You won't be disappointed," she told them softly. "You lived your life to the fullest, and so will I. I won't settle for anything less."

  She smiled, remembering, and when she closed her eyes, she could see them smiling back.

  Chapter Twelve

  Luke knew before dawn that the weather had changed.

  The morning sun hid behind a sky drained of color. The outlines of distant trees were soft and blurred, and the wind had risen, carrying with it the promise of winter.

  Luke broke camp quickly, losing himself in routine as he tried desperately to shut Joey away from his senses and his thoughts. He had left her alone in the tent that night, had lain awake by the smoldering fire, remembering her tears and the courage that had brought her so far.

  Now she would leave him, as she must. He would give her no chance to linger, no excuse to prolong this constant torment. He recognized the subtle promise in her eyes; Joelle Randall had attained her goal, but she was not satisfied. She would reach for more, for all she could hold.

  She shone more brightly than the invisible sun as they began to retrace their path back to Val Cache. "I feel free," she had said, and she was. She was more deadly to him now than she had ever been. There was no sadness to dull her vitality, no other obsession to distract her. Or himself.

  So he fought to shut her out as he had done before. She tried to engage him in conversation, he rebuffed her with gruff monosyllables and silence. Even that was not enough to dim her brilliance. He walked more swiftly to keep her out of view, and she caught up easily. He felt her watching him, always watching, waiting for a sign of weakness.

  He could never afford to be weak again.

  They had reached the top of the ridge above the lake when the first snow began to fall. Luke felt the gentle sting of a snowflake on his cheek and looked up.

  He came slowly to a halt. Joey continued a few paces farther and stopped to look back, her face shone with such inner radiance that Luke could not meet her questioning eyes. One snowflake and then another settled on the wool of her cap, kissing her cheek with the lightest of caresses. He saw her raise her mittened hand to touch the places where they had fallen.

  "Snow," she whispered. She grinned, whirling in a circle with her arms flung up like a child in her first snowfall. Perhaps, he thought numbly, it was her first.

  He could not help but watch her. The muscles of his legs locked as she began to dance, as uninhibited as a wild thing in its element.

  Trembling with unwelcome emotion, Luke dropped his pack to the ground and swayed in the grip of longing and desire. Joey's joy in the simple beauty of nature was very real, she was laughing now, almost silently opening her mouth to catch the lacy flakes on her tongue. Luke followed the motions of her body with hungry eyes, felt self-control slipping away like melting snow through his fingers.

  She whirled to look at him then, and his heart turned over. The warmth of her face might have melted the snow for a kilometer in every direction before it touched the ground.

  "It's wonderful, Luke," she said. "Will it snow all day?"

  Luke swallowed to force words past the obstruction in his throat. He broke free of her gaze and stared up at the sky. "Yes. The weather has turned. We have to keep moving."

  If she heard the deliberate coldness in his voice, she gave no sign. Her grin was incandescent. "You can take all this for granted, Luke. I'm not about to." She spread her hand to catch a palmful of snowflakes and examined them.

  An admonishment rose in Luke's mind and vanished again instantly. Joey pinned him with her gaze and moved toward him, reaching out. Her voice came to him like a distant cry lost on the wind.

  "Give me time to feel this, Luke. I want to understand your world, become a part of it—"

  He stopped her. He used all the force of his will to keep her back, and she drew up short, smile fading.

  "That was never part of our bargain," he said harshly.

  The look in Joey's eyes took on a dangerous cast. "We can always change our bargain, Luke," she said.

  He could not answer. Looking away, he smelled the air and let the wilderness fill his senses. It would be dark within a few hours, darker still with the late-afternoon sun lost behind the clouds and mist. Ahead of them, a few hours' hike to the west, lay a number of rocky inclines, stable cliffs that would grant them a night's refuge. They would be moving gradually down into the valley and away from the high country, but he could take no chance of delaying their return if the weather worsened.

  One more night before Val Cache, and a few more after that. He could bear that much. He had no choice.

  Luke looked through Joey as if she weren't there and bent to retrieve his pack. "We'll push on," he said. "I want to make at least another ten kilometers before dusk."

  He turned without waiting for her protest. But as he began to walk, his ears strained for the sound of her breathing and the creak of her pack as she moved to join him.

  Moving alongside Luke as the snow danced, Joey felt the slow warmth of contentment melt the cold between and around them. Impossible to be angry when everything had become so beautiful; if Luke seemed to be doing his best to ignore her, she found it absurdly easy to forgive him. She hardly noticed when he began to pick up the pace, caught up in the wonder of something she had never before experienced.

  The snow began to stick to the ground, first in small patches and then in an even, pristine blanket. Joey made a game of shuffling through it, kicking it up so that it clung to the toes of her boots. She wondered what it would be like when it was deep enough to wade through, how much fun it would be to build a snowman, or have a snowball fight—things Luke had probably taken for granted as a child. Common things, which to her were small miracles.

  Luke was silent, doggedly leading her along the course of the stream that paralleled their way Joey found herself drifting behind, hardly aware when Luke snapped a command for her to keep up. A snowshoe hare, still mottled brown in the molt that would alter its coat to winter white, bounded across their path. A browsing bull moose and his cow, moving down the slope to the more sheltered valley, briefly challenged them and then crashed off into the forest. Small birds quarreled over the berries that remained on currant and chokecherry shrubs.

  It was all wonderful, and she only realized how tired she was when Luke stopped at last, in a level area flanked by stretches of bare rock and cliffs. The snowfall had been heavier here, already an inch deep under their feet It lent the wilderness a profoundly peaceful beauty.

  "We'll camp here for the night," Luke said, studying the terrain. He hardly glanced at her, dropping his pack to begin the first steps of making camp. Staring about the place he had picked, Joey thought it would be nice to rest here. She plopped down on a rock, dusting the snow from its surface Easiest now just to let her mind go blank, listening to the familiar sounds Luke made as he began to set up camp. She should be helping him, really, but she was so tired.

  Some time passed, she was vaguely aware of it, felt it more keenly when she noticed the dampness of her clothing, the way it clung to her skin. Not comfortable at all. It would be nice to take it all off, she thought. Her body began to shake, and she could not seem to make it stop. Ridiculous.

  With an irritable snap of her head she looked for Luke. What was taking him so damned long? She was hungry. She wanted a bath. She wanted. What did she want? She couldn't seem to remember All she knew was that it was his fault—it had to be.

  She giggled. Better go find him She tried to stand, found that her feet wouldn't quite support her. So clumsy. Better not let Luke see that. The world spun sideways, she knew she hadn't been drinking, but it almost felt that way. Getting drunk without drinking.

  It hadn't seemed so cold before. Maybe if she changed her clothes. Joey tugged at the zipper of her light parka, pulling it down. Her fingers didn't seem to want to work properly. She got the jacket open at last and tried to pull it off. Somehow she got tangled in it and gave a snarl of
frustration as her arms twisted at painful angles.

  "Joey." The word came from far away. "Joey, what are you doing?"

  The sound of the voice was like the annoying buzz of a fly. With a furious wrench Joey got the parka off and flung it in the snow. Something touched her, she punched at it angrily "Go away," she snapped. "Go away!" She tried to stand again, to escape, but she seemed to have lost her legs And then she was falling, falling.

  Luke caught her in his arms before she hit the snow. "Joey!"

  She said something, the words slurred and strange. "I'm cold, Luke," Her mittened hands flailed out to bat at his face. "Go away."

  Luke's heart nearly stopped in his chest. Hypothermia. He cursed himself savagely. For most of the day he had ignored Joey, convinced of her ability to keep pace with him no matter how hard he pushed. He had been lost in himself, intent on shutting her out.

  He had succeeded all too well. In his cowardice, his fear of her closeness, he had failed to see the signs, failed to note the early warnings. Such a small thing—insidious, creeping up with deceptive gentleness on the unwary, experienced and innocent alike.

  And hypothermia could be fatal.

  Luke stared at Joey's pale face, blank and dazed, no comprehension in it at all. Closing his arms about her, he held her in a tight embrace, willing her his warmth, feeling the fragility of her body. He could smell the moisture on her, knew how it had happened—so easy for her to overlook the changes in the still air that seemed almost warm, forgetting her own limitations. He could only rage at himself for his own blindness and stupidity. For risking something as precious as her life.

  No time now to finish putting up the tent, build a fire to warm her. Instead, he draped his parka over her and zipped it up, keeping her close as he half-carried her across the little clearing to the rocky face of the cliff-side. The shelter he sought was there the half-obscured opening of a cave, a dark shape shadowed by a slight overhang. Boulders and smaller rocks were scattered about the opening, and he thrust them aside as he dropped to his knees by the entrance, pulling Joey down with him.