Given the juveniles’ size, Alex didn’t know if they’d been out with their father or mother when the wolverine had been caught in the trap. Either was possible, and she couldn’t determine the sex of the trapped wolverine without seeing its belly.
When the family was about fifty yards away, she climbed down out of the tree and grabbed her pack. She followed at a distance, wondering where they had denned that spring. Female wolverines favored high-elevation den sites beneath fallen whitebark pines. They dug ten feet down beneath the trunk, then excavated laterally for as far as forty-five feet. Chewing portions of the wood, they used the chips to line the snowy den. Most dens had separate rooms for sleeping, nursing, resting, and eliminating waste. The mother usually moved to newly excavated dens as the kits grew older. The snow insulated the kits, keeping them warm while the mother would hunt up to ten miles away. But worsening climate conditions were reducing the options for suitable denning sites.
Alex didn’t want to frighten the family more, so she hung back, catching glimpses of the trio as they trooped through the trees. Occasional wolverine footprints appeared in damp, muddy spots. The adult hiked in a perfectly straight line, and the few times when Alex lost sight of them she just kept heading that way, and soon enough she spotted them again.
As the adult marched along with determination, the two kits frolicked together, jumping on each other, play biting. Sometimes one leapt, grabbing its sibling by the back of the neck and going into an alligator death roll. But it was all play. Alex broke into a smile every time they cavorted and tussled with each other. Meanwhile, the no-nonsense adult surged forward like a machine.
Soon she found the family far outdistancing her. The sun dipped behind a mountain, and instantly the temperature dropped. As the light dimmed, she continued forward, still occasionally spotting them in the distance. Dusk darkened into the gloaming, and soon Alex couldn’t see them at all. She continued a little farther nonetheless, excited at having found this living wolverine family on the preserve. It was exactly what she’d been hoping for.
At last she had to concede it was too dark. She took a waypoint on her GPS unit and a bearing, resolved to come back another time, and continue to follow the line to see if she’d pick up more signs of the wolverines.
She turned around and headed back in the direction she’d come. Before she returned to the lodge, she was going to dismantle that trap. Cut the cable out of the tree, kick the logs apart and scatter them.
From a nearby copse, she heard a barred owl calling out. Ornithologists described its call as sounding like “Who cooks for you, who cooks for you all?” Her stomach grumbled. She entered the dense cluster of trees and dug out her headlamp.
The wind sighed through the pines around her, sounding almost like the roar of a distant waterfall. The temperature dropped further, and she zipped up her fleece. She half dreaded seeing Brad again, yet was half excited at the prospect. These days, she never knew if he would be welcoming or if he’d want to fight.
But even that dread couldn’t rob her of a feeling of exhilaration. Seeing the baby wolverines frolic like that had given her a glimpse of what she loved about being in the wild—seeing animals in their natural habitats, enjoying themselves and their freedom. When she was out here, she felt whole, alive, balanced. Breathing in the clean, pine-scented air, she made her way back to the trap, anger returning the closer she got.
She came over a little rise, back to where she’d found the trap, and stopped. It wasn’t there. She shook her head in confusion, walking around the little grove of trees. Had she gone off course? It was entirely possible. But then she spotted the tree where she’d stood, the scattering of fresh bark where the juveniles had climbed down. She examined the ground with her headlamp. Nothing unusual met her eyes. No hewn logs, no cable. No bait, though she could still detect the lingering smell of rotten meat. Then she saw her own boot print in a dusty patch at the bottom of the tree. So this had been the spot.
Alex straightened. That meant someone had been out here and dismantled the trap before she could come back. Someone was covering his tracks. A nervous flush flooded through her, her stomach going sour as a chill swept down her back. The poacher was near. Perhaps he was even watching her now.
Suddenly she couldn’t get down the mountain fast enough.
Alex stepped over a log and heard a branch break behind her. She whirled around. Though she worried it was the poacher, for a second she wondered if the injured man had impossibly crawled this far, or if maybe it was a deer. Another branch broke beyond the reach of her headlamp to her left. She spun, seeing something big move off in the trees. It was too fast for her to get a good look. But she knew now it was not the injured man.
She backed up warily, then turned and picked up her pace, stepping over logs and weaving between bushes.
Whatever it was behind her also picked up its pace. She could hear rhythmic footfalls crunching in the pine needles. She stopped, turning again, scanning the trees. Something moved out of the way of her beam. Something big and tall. The poacher. Or a bear, maybe, or something else. Could have been a deer or maybe an elk. But a primal fear crawled over her scalp and down her back. She could feel something staring at her from the dark.
Pine needles crunched in front of her this time. She stopped, listening, hearing them still behind her as well. Her heart started to thud. Maybe she’d just wandered into a herd of deer out browsing for the evening. She switched off her light, waiting for her eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. She could barely make out anything unless she looked up and saw the silhouette of the pine branches against the night sky. But in the heart of the forest, she couldn’t make out any detail. The thing behind her grew closer. Big footsteps on the ground. If it was a bear, she should make herself be known, let it know she was a human. If it was the poacher, he already knew she was there.
“Hey, bear,” she said more quietly than she intended, using the phrase that park rangers suggested.
The footsteps immediately stopped. So did the ones in front of her. Could it be a grizzly sow with her cubs?
“Hey, bear,” she said again, this time more loudly.
Then, adrenaline coursing through her body, she heard a third area of movement to her left. She snapped her head in that direction, but still could make out nothing in the gloom.
She switched her headlamp on. Something shifted away, a fleeting shape in the dark, moving behind a dense cluster of bushes, darting purposefully out of the light. Whether it was doing that for its own safety, being cautious of humans, or if it was someone stalking her, she couldn’t be sure. But if it was the poacher, and he’d tried to cover his tracks, would he now be following her? She could spot him if he did, ID him later to the cops. Wouldn’t he just want to get out of there?
Whatever the creature was, it didn’t want to be seen. The primal fear grew more intense.
Keeping her light on, Alex moved to the right, in the direction where she hadn’t heard any movement. She didn’t want to run, in case it was a bear. So she walked quickly, glancing back over her shoulder. She didn’t see anything this time but had difficulty hearing anything over her own rushed footsteps.
When she’d covered about a quarter mile, she spotted a thick cluster of kinnikinnick bushes. She switched off her light, then crept quietly over to them, taking refuge behind them.
She waited and listened.
Crunch, crunch, crunch. Whatever had been behind was still there, but it was a little farther away this time. She heard more sounds off to her right.
She was just about to resume her descent when she thought she caught the murmur of human voices. She listened again, but the sound didn’t repeat. Could it be the injured man? She’d read of a backcountry skier who had broken both of his ankles after veering so far off his planned route that no one knew where to look for him for rescue. He waited for them both to swell up and then he walked out on them. Was it possible that man had done the same?
She seriously doubted it, giv
en his condition. But the will of a human to survive could be incredibly strong.
She listened intently, hearing only the footsteps zeroing in on her location. Had she imagined the voices?
Alex stepped away from the bushes, and suddenly the movement nearest her increased, something running now, directly toward her. She still couldn’t see anything in the shadows. She turned to run but stumbled over a rock. She recovered, but then tripped on a fallen log. She had to either hide or switch her lamp back on. Her foot hit another rock and she tumbled forward, catching herself at the last minute before she crashed to the ground. She thought she caught human voices again, two of them, speaking in low tones, but she struggled to hear over her own footsteps. She stopped, crouching. Could it be people from the search party? But why would they be over in this area?
She moved slowly toward a tightly clustered stand of lodgepole pines and waited, listening. But even though she’d changed directions, whatever was closest to her matched her movements. She got the distinct, eerie feeling that though she couldn’t see it in the dark, it had no problem seeing her.
It slowed, then stopped. A shuffling sound off to her right also came to a halt.
She listened for voices but didn’t hear any now, and still wasn’t sure if that was what she’d heard.
A primal sense of being watched screamed at her to get the hell out of there. She’d now changed directions enough that she wasn’t entirely sure which way led back to the lodge. She’d have to get out her compass or GPS. She opted for the compass, since it didn’t have a glowing screen. But she couldn’t read it in the dark. She had to use her light to get out of there.
Pulling her lamp from her head, Alex stripped off her jacket and made a little tent over her lap. Moving her hands beneath the thick fleece, she switched on her light, covering the beam with her hand, then moved the compass under it. She got her bearings and switched the light off again. Then she pulled her jacket back on.
She weighed her options. If it was a bear, she didn’t want to run. But if it was poachers, she still thought they’d want to move away from her to avoid discovery.
Moments later, the choice was made for her when whatever was closest came crashing through the brush toward her. She flipped on her light, taking off across the forest floor, daring a glance back. But once again, she didn’t see anything in the wildly bouncing beam of light. Just trees and bushes.
If it was a charging bear, she’d see it. Or if it was a curious bear, it would likely be standing on its hind legs to get a better look at her, and she’d definitely see that.
She continued to run, leaping over logs and weaving around rock outcroppings.
She wheeled around to the correct bearing and kept descending, unable to hear over her own rushed movement and stertorous breathing.
Spotting a large rock outcropping on her right, she switched off her headlamp. Trying to quiet the sound of her gasping, she moved toward the rocks, hands out in front of her. It was so dark that the old adage of not being able to see your hand in front of your face was actually accurate. Soon she felt the rough cold of stone and moved along it, hands feeling along the rock until she was behind it.
Finally she stopped to catch her breath. She forced her breathing to still so she could hear over it. Blood pounded in her ears.
She listened, eyes wide and staring, though she could still see nothing but the stars above her.
Something cracked a twig to her right, far closer than she expected. Bushes rustled to her left. Her heart crawled into her mouth.
Alex’s gut tugged at her, whispered at her that this was no bear with cubs, no herd of deer. It felt like something was pursuing her through the dark.
She moved around the jutting rock. Another stone lip stood about thirty yards away, in the opposite direction of the movement around her. At a crouch, she quietly hurried in that direction, keeping her light off. She’d noticed before that no big logs or rocks lay between the two, so she moved faster in the pitch black, hands out before her, until she came into contact with the other rock outcropping. Moving around to the opposite side, using obstructed line of sight in case whatever was out there could see her, she took refuge on the far side. Then she felt along the rough stone for handholds and footholds. The gentle slope of the outcropping made finding small ledges and niches easier than she had expected, and she climbed up hand over foot.
Two of the animals, be they human or something else, now moved together.
She climbed to the top and lay flat on the cold stone. It instantly robbed her body of warmth and she started to shiver. The crackle of branches and pine needles grew closer. She hoped whatever they were would think she’d continued down off the mountain. They shuffled past the first rock outcropping, then covered the distance to the second one, circling it. She pressed her face against the cold rock, willing them to keep moving.
Pine needles crunched on the far side of the rock, then kept going. She continued to lie there, clinging to the rock as the movement faded into the distance and then disappeared altogether.
She breathed a huge, quiet sigh of relief, but held her position, waiting for any other hint of movement. Five long minutes passed, then ten. Wind sighed in the trees. A great horned owl called out.
After thirty minutes she climbed down, the rock rough under her cold fingers.
She pulled the headlamp off her head and switched it on, shielding the beam with her fingers, using a feeble, diffuse light pointed only at the ground. She used it to get a feel of her surroundings, check her direction on the compass, and then switched it off. She crept through the forest, stopping only occasionally to get another mental snapshot of the terrain ahead with her headlamp and then continuing on. She did this all the way down the mountain.
When the lodge came into sight, relief washed over her. She wondered if she should call Makepeace, but then decided against it. What would she say? That maybe some people had pursued her through the forest? Or maybe they were determined deer who just happened to be heading in the same direction? She wasn’t even sure it had been people, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was. She could already hear the dismissive disgust in Makepeace’s voice if she told him that she “had a feeling” it was people, so she elected not to say anything. If it was hunters still using the property, for all she knew, Makepeace could be friends with them.
Thirteen
As she neared the lodge, she saw Brad’s car parked out front. The search and rescue team cars had all departed. She approached the main doors, taking a deep breath, bracing herself for another fight. She opened the door, instantly smelling the delicious aroma of Italian food.
The small table where she’d been working had been cleared and was now draped in a white linen tablecloth. Two candles flickered on either side of a small vase of flowers. Glasses and a bottle of wine sat by a freshly tossed salad in a glass bowl. She was still shaking from her encounter in the dark, but decided not to mention it to Brad. It looked like he was making an attempt at reconciliation, and knowing she’d just had a fright would only give him ammunition for why she shouldn’t be out there.
As the door closed, Brad emerged from the kitchen. He was wearing a chef’s apron over his long-sleeved blue shirt and black pants. He smiled as he saw her, and came forward to kiss her cheek. “I take back everything I said about this place,” he said, helping her with her jacket. “The kitchen is amazing!”
She smiled as he draped her jacket over a nearby chair. Brad had been a foodie before the word foodie was even a thing. He’d grown up in a poor family and relished any chance they had to eat out. When he moved out on his own, he started cooking fancier and fancier dishes, with ingredients he’d never been able to afford as a kid—expensive mushrooms, roasted pine nuts, exotic spices.
“Something smells amazing,” she told him.
“It’s butternut squash ravioli with pine nuts, shiitake mushrooms, and a garlic cream sauce.”
Her stomach growled. All she’d had for the past two w
eeks was pretty much eggs, salads, nuts, and cheese sandwiches. She wasn’t that into food, especially not cooking it herself. But she’d never pass up a home-cooked meal like this.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am.”
He took her elbow. “Allow me to seat you.” He led her to the table and pulled the chair out for her. When she was seated, he opened the wine and poured two glasses of it. He sat down opposite her and met her gaze across the candles. “To us,” he said, holding up the glass. “May we find our way back to each other.”
They clinked glasses and drank. A beeper sounded from the kitchen and he stood up, setting his glass down. “That’s the sauce. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared through the swinging doors to the kitchen, leaving Alex alone with her thoughts.
She took another sip of wine, feeling let down that they hadn’t found the man. Brad hadn’t asked her how the search went, and she was a little leery to bring it up given his reaction this morning.
The phone rang and Alex went to it.
“Hello?”
“Alex, this is Ben Hathaway.”
“Ben! How’s it going in Washington?”
“Really good. Thanks for asking. The team is briefed and off to Africa for the rhino project there. They’re going to be transporting black rhinos from a high poaching area to one of our preserves.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said, sitting down on the stool behind the counter.
“It’s a pretty crazy process. They actually tranq the rhinos and then suspend them upside down from a helicopter. It’s the least stressful way to transport them.”
“That’s incredible.”
“I was out there a couple years ago and watched them do it. Our guys have been specially trained for it. Listen, I’ve been trying to reach you. Jolene said that you found an injured man up there?”
A Solitude of Wolverines Page 14
