Chapter 2
Chapter two
Luna
Ihold my breath as I secure the splint around the eagle’s fractured wing, my fingers steady despite my racing heart. The smell of antiseptic fills the treatment room, mixing with the underlying musky scent of feathers.
Working with raptors isn’t easy. There’s something about their gaze that strips away all pretense until you’re left exposed. This magnificent creature doesn’t understand that I’m trying to help. All he knows is captivity and pain.
“Almost done,” I murmur, checking the alignment one more time.
The eagle remains still beneath the towel draped over his head and body, with only his injured wing uncovered. Maren’s hands keep his legs and talons secured.
Then he mantles. She adjusts her hold, but I still step back.
Adrenaline spikes through my system, a primal response to a predator’s threat that no amount of veterinary training can override.
My pulse hammers, a reminder that no matter how many wild animals I treat, I’ll never be completely immune to fear.
“How about we drug him up a little more?” Maren whispers to avoid startling our patient. “I’m not in the mood to get my face rearranged. I like my face.”
I edge closer. “It’s a good face.”
“JT thinks so too. He’s especially fond of the expression it makes when I’m coming on his cock.”
“That’s not something I needed to know, but okay.”
“Oh, please.” She snorts but cuts herself short when the eagle’s head turns toward the sound.
We both freeze until he settles again. “It’s not like you don’t know what my orgasm face looks like.
We shared a dorm room for four years. There’s no way you were always asleep when I brought a hookup home. No one sleeps that deep.”
“Selective hearing was the only way I could survive all that grunting and groaning without losing my mind.”
“Try not to choke on that imagined chastity belt, Dr. Foster.”
I blow her a kiss across the examination table. Without missing a beat, she flips me off while maintaining her grip on the eagle’s powerful legs. I have to admire her dexterity. Few people can deliver obscene gestures while restraining a bird of prey.
The eagle shifts again, testing her hold. The muscles in his legs ripple beneath her gloved hands, reminding us both that we’re dealing with a predator capable of snatching salmon from rushing rivers.
“So you’re sure he doesn’t need any more drugs?”
“No, he’s been incredibly cooperative. Even during the X-rays.” I smooth the last piece of tape, ensuring the splint is secure without being restrictive. “I think he knows we’re trying to help.”
“Or he’s plotting our demise and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. You know, when we least expect it.”
I bite back a chuckle. “Your optimism is truly inspiring.”
“I prefer realism. This bird could fuck up a small aircraft if he put his mind to it.”
“He could wreak havoc if he wanted to, that’s for sure.” I tuck the injured wing against his side. “Let’s move him to recovery.”
When he’s inside the sanctuary’s avian recovery enclosure, I remove the towel, and those fierce golden eyes lock onto mine, unblinking and intense.
For a moment, I feel oddly seen, like this wild creature is reading my thoughts. There’s intelligence in those eyes that seem almost human, an ancient wisdom that makes me feel small and young by comparison.
“You’re going to be okay. Six weeks, and you’ll be back where you belong.”
He tilts his head, studying me with what feels like curiosity rather than fear. Something passes between us, an understanding, maybe, or mutual respect.
Some days, I wonder if I’m crazy for choosing this life, patching up creatures that would as soon tear into me as thank me. The doubts creep in during late nights when funding is tight and the workload seems endless.
But the indescribable rush I get when I release a healed animal into the wild, when wings spread or paws hit dirt and instinct takes over, when captivity ends and freedom begins. I’d never want anything else.
This is who I am. Who I was always meant to be.
I drape the cage with several large blankets, providing the darkness that will help reduce the eagle’s stress. Even through the fabric, I can sense him still watching me.
A sharp knock interrupts my thoughts. Tate, our intern from CSU Fort Collins, stands in the doorway holding Ricky, one of our two resident raccoons, as he nibbles on a banana.
“I can’t get him back into his cage.” Tate’s face floods with relief as he hands Ricky to Maren. “This is the third banana I’ve tried to bribe him with.”
“Ow.” She pulls Ricky’s paw away from her breast, wincing. “Stop it, you perverted little shit.”
Ricky has a boob fetish, so I can only allow the male interns, my part-time volunteer vet Ethan, myself, or Maren to handle him. Otherwise, I’m asking to get slapped with a sexual harassment suit.
“Don’t you have to mail those grant applications?” Tate asks. “The deadline is Friday, right?”
My stomach drops. “Shit. I was going to take those to the post office this morning, but then our friend here came in, and—”
“You hyper-focused on the immediate crisis while the rest of the world continued to go about its day.” Maren wrestles with Ricky’s wandering paws. “Tate, she does this. A lot. It’s like she has selective awareness disorder.”
“That’s not a real thing,” I protest, already moving toward my office, where the envelopes sit buried under everything else that needs attention. “Stop that, Ricky.” I remove his paw from Maren as I pass.
“With you, it should be in the fucking DSM. Right between ‘chronic lateness’ and ‘inability to remember anything that isn’t bleeding or broken.’”
Tate clears his throat as he and Maren follow me. “The post office closes at five. It’s already four-thirty. Do you want me to drop them off?”
I glance at the wall clock. Thirty minutes. I can make it if I leave now.
“No, I’ll do it. I need to pick up some supplies at the general store.” I yank off my lab coat, almost catching the loose knot at the back of my head. “Can you finish the evening meds? The chart’s on the—”
“—wall.” Maren’s eye roll is so dramatic, I’m surprised they don’t fall out of her head. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, I don’t actually need you to function. I’ve been keeping this place running despite your organizational chaos for five years.”
The truth of her words hit home. Maren is the backbone of this operation, while I’m the beating heart, the dreamer who sometimes forgets practical realities. She’s been my best friend since freshman year of college, and after almost fifteen years, she still hasn’t given up on me.
I tuck the envelopes under my arm. “That’s why you get the big bucks.”
Maren snorts. “Oh yeah, my enormous salary. I’m practically drowning in cash. Try not to get distracted by any wounded butterflies on the way. And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t stop to rescue anything else.”
“Can’t promise that.” I head toward the door. “Put Ricky in his cage and give him some gabapentin. That’ll chill him out.”
“It’s like living with a Disney princess who went to veterinary school.” Maren’s voice floats down the hallway, followed by Tate’s laughter. “Ow, Ricky, damn it.”
I pause at the threshold and look back to see Maren tussling with him.
She’s his favorite, but then again, she has the bigger boobs of the two of us.
As she traps both his paws in her hands, she turns her head to glance at me.
Sun streams through the windows, bathing her in golden light, her brown hair pulled back in its usual ponytail, shining like shimmering chocolate.
My heart swells with affection for this woman, who puts up with all my flaws and sexual harassment from my animals.
“Thank you, Mar. Seriously. I’d be lost without you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she calls after me as I step out the door. “You’d be late to your own funeral, too. But somehow you’d still show up with a three-legged fox that ‘needed your help real quick.’”
“It’s my superpower!” I shout back as the door closes behind me.
The early September air hits my face, still somewhat warm, but hinting at the approaching autumn underneath. I pause, drinking in the view of Sage & Summit Wildlife Sanctuary.
My sanctuary.
Sprawled across forty-seven acres nestled against the Rocky Mountains outside Estes Park, the property has been in my family for generations.
After my parents died, my grandfather raised me here, and this place became a refuge for every stray, sick, and wounded animal I found.
But it wasn’t until I inherited it from him five years ago that I turned it into a haven for injured wildlife.
The late afternoon sun slants low across the sky, painting everything in shades of gold, as purple shadows begin to creep over the eastern hills. A comforting sense of belonging washes over me as I breathe in the air, heavy with pine and sage. This is home in the truest sense of the word.
I’m halfway to my truck when I remember Shadow, my seven-year-old gray wolf. He lifts his head as I approach the wolf enclosure, his amber eyes bright with recognition and curiosity.
“Hey, baby.” I stop at the fence. “Wanna come to town with me?”
His tail thumps against the ground. I’ve raised him from a pup after poachers killed his mother, and he remains the one creature, besides Maren, who seems to understand me completely.
“Come on, then. But you have to promise to behave. Eleanor likes you, but you freak her out a little.”
I grab his leash and harness, and we head to my ancient blue truck. It’s older than I am, patches of rust blooming across its once-vibrant paint like abstract art. Grandpa taught me to keep it running, and something about its reliable unreliability feels comforting.
I turn the key, and the engine coughs, then sputters to life with a noise that sounds suspiciously like protest. I pat the dashboard, my hand lingering on the worn surface. “Just to town and back.”