Chapter 4 Wolves on the Ridge
Lilly
The trail behind the north edge of campus goes quiet after six. That's why I like it.
Students are eating or working on assignments. Faculty has gone home.
It sits at the top of a smaller ridge. It goes right along the spine of the hill top. It is used so often and for so long that the tree line is about five feet below the ridge itself. The views are wide open, three-hundred-sixty degrees, and spectacular.
Lisa is already at the trailhead when I get there, bouncing on her heels in a way that suggests she has had either too much coffee or too much to say. Probably both.
"You look like someone who needs to walk fast and talk slow," she says.
"I look like someone who needs to not talk at all."
She falls into step beside me anyway, which is exactly what I need, and she knows it, which is exactly why she's my best friend.
"What about you? You look like you had five espressos."
"Two, I had two." She holds up two fingers with impeccable red nail polish.
"That looks like two too many!" I laugh.
The path curves into the tree line fast. The city noise drops off behind us like a curtain coming down. Out here it's just pine and dry grass and the glowing golden hue of early evening light pushing sideways through the branches.
Lisa lasts about four minutes.
"Okay." She glances sideways at me. "Tell me about him."
I do not say anything about "him".
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You've tapped your thumb against your thigh eleven times since we left the parking lot. You do that when something's stuck in your head and you won't let it out."
I stop tapping my thumb.
"There was a man at the archive today," I say. "He came in to ask about a collection."
"And?"
"And nothing. He made a research appointment. He left."
Lisa is quiet for three seconds. For Lisa, that is a significant pause. "You're describing a completely normal interaction but acting like it was the end of world."
"I'm describing it like a professional transaction."
"Your voice went flat. That's the voice you use when you're editing yourself."
I look at the trail ahead. "He's in his forties, if he's a day."
"Okay."
"Did you see that gray hair?"
"So you do think he's hot!"
"I do not." I wave my hand at Lisa. She laughs. "I'm twenty-four. That's a big difference."
"You do think he's got it going on. Does it matter how old he is?"
"Lisa, you are no help! Gah!"
The trail dips down to the one place where the trees thicken around us on both sides.
The light shifts from gold to something cooler.
We're maybe a half mile in, where the trail bends around the creek and the canopy closes over.
This is the part of the walk where the rest of the day usually falls away.
It's not falling away tonight.
"He knew my sister," I say. "I think they had a history. He came looking for her and I was there instead."
Lisa considers this. "So he came in for your sister and stayed for you?"
"He stayed for the land deed records."
"Sure."
"Lisa. And he barked at me! What a grump!"
"I'm just saying, you can care about the land deed records and also have feelings." She nudges my shoulder. "Those things coexist in nature."
I open my mouth to say something practical and true about the professional ethics of personal entanglement with collection donors.
Then I hear it.
Not a sound, exactly. A shift.
The trail goes quiet, totally quiet. It knows something larger than everything else is also in the woods. The birds stop. The creek sounds louder because it's the only thing left.
I put my hand on Lisa's arm.
She feels it too. She stops walking.
They come out of the trees to the left. Fast and low and absolutely silent. That should be impossible given their size.
Four of them, then a fifth, then a sixth, moving through the undergrowth in a line like water finding a channel. The fur is lush gray and brown and one that is almost black. Their coats catch the last of the light as they break the tree line and cross the trail maybe twenty feet in front of us.
Wolves.
Big ones.
My mind looks through the archives. This is part of the Hansen Clan's eastern territory. Their compound runs to the ridge. I know they hold a corridor here by historic precedent. I mentally find the original land grant that predates the county's current mapping system.
I know that, theoretically, there might be wolves on this trail.
Theoretical and actual are different things.
Lisa's fingers close around my wrist.
"What's your plan?" Lisa asks as her fingers tighten.
"My plan involves not moving."
"Okay."
Lisa sounds pretty unhappy about my plan. I don't really have another one. I double down.
"I figure that we are pretty close to the shorter loop trail back to the parking lot."
"Do you think they'll follow?"
"I don't know. I'm hoping."
The wolves slow.
Not all of them. The ones in the middle keep moving, fluid and purposeful, disappearing into the trees on the right side of the trail. But two of them stop.
One is gray with a dark muzzle. Older, I think, there's something settled in the way it stands. It looks at us once, even, the way you look at something you're cataloging rather than something you're hunting.
Then it looks at the other one.
The other one is large. Larger than the gray. Black coat with a deep brown underneath, visible when it moves. It has gone still at the edge of the tree line and it is looking at me.
Directly at me, not at Lisa or the trail. At me.
The air is heavy.
I know what this is. I felt it this morning, standing behind my reference desk in a cardigan with archive dust on my sleeve.
The black one holds for a moment longer than the gray one. Then the gray nudges it with one shoulder. It is a gesture so human it makes my throat close and they are gone. Into the trees. Gone.
The birds come back.
Lisa exhales a big breath in a whoosh.
"Okay," she says. Her voice is very careful. "That was—"
"Wolves."
"Big wolves."
"Yes."
We stand here for a moment. The trail is empty and quiet and the light is finishing its slide toward dusk.
"Do you want to keep walking," Lisa says, "or do you want to stand here and think about what just happened."
"I want to keep walking," I say.
I start moving. My hands are even, which surprises me. Lisa is right beside me. This time the pace is faster.
"That black one was huge!" Lisa's voice is squeaky and excited.
"What gets me is that we were talking. They could have taken off before we even got to that part of the trail. They just stood there."
We are panting now, our steps are one right after the other.
"It's like they aren't scared of us humans at all." Lisa's voice slows down as each word is spoken aloud.
"No, they aren't scared of humans." I repeat. Inside I'm sure it's Grady but Lisa is scared. "They may even be humans part of the time."
"Are you saying they are wolf shifters?" Lisa's voice goes to dog whistle at the end of her question.
"They could be. I'll be honest, I don't know how to tell one from the other." I make a mental note to ask how to tell wolves from shifters.
"How do you feel about running back?"
"Catch me if you can!" Lisa is off down the path. I take off too. Soon I'm into a steady maintainable pace and I let my mind go back. I rethink the events on the trail and the morning in the archive.
I'm absorbed reliving the events of the morning. I think about the warmth in the archive today. The way the air changed when the door opened. The way dark brown eyes landed on me with the quality of physical weight.
The black wolf looked at me.
Not a threat. Not curiosity. It stares at me. I'm not afraid. Those large furry ears slowly lay back. His eyes soften. Now I am the one that can't look away.
He's out here.
I don't know that. I have no way to know that. Maybe I do. The itch in the center of my chest makes itself known. I rub my fingertip into it.
"Lil." Lisa touches my arm. Is she watching my face?
"I'm fine." I break out of my runner's trance to see the parking lot about 20 feet ahead of us. I slow down and start to walk. "Wow, that was fast!"
"No, you were fast. I was pushing hard to keep up."
"Lisa I was behind you. I don't even remember passing you."
"Well Miss Speedy Shoes, you win today!"
"I need to loosen up a little. That got me all tight."
I grab the ankle of one bent knee and stretch the front of my thigh. Yeah, I need this. Lisa bends over to put her hands on the ground.
After fifteen minutes or so of bending, and folding ourselves, she and I walk to her car.
"Take care Lil. I'll see you Friday." She pulls the door shut and pulls on her seat belt.
"See you then." I walk back to my car. Then I get into mine and head for home.
Two days until Thursday. Then he's back and I wonder if that feeling in my chest will change.