Vicki Thompson: Werewolf in Alaska

Those wounds could get infected. The brave creature could die in agony after throwing itself into harm’s way for her sake. “You’re coming with me.” Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the wolf’s ruff. “You need help, and I can provide it.”

The animal stiffened.

For one heart-stopping moment, she wondered if it would turn on her. That made no sense considering its former protective behavior, but the moment she closed her fingers around that silky black fur, she knew this was no docile house pet.

The wolf controlled its own destiny, although that ability had been compromised by lethal claws that had dug deep. When the wolf staggered, Rachel exerted gentle pressure on its ruff and managed to change its direction.

“This way,” she said softly. “Come with me. I’ll tend your wounds, and when you’re better, I’ll let you go. I’m not going to hold you prisoner. That would be a poor payback for what you did. But I won’t let you die from these wounds, either.”

She kept her grip on the wolf’s ruff all the way back to her cabin. Twice the creature faltered, which told her just how injured it was. And this was her wolf. She’d carved the image so often that she knew it by heart. Here was an animal built for grace and coordination, but it was not moving gracefully now.

“You gave me a career,” she murmured as they navigated the three steps to her back deck. “And you saved my life. I would be an ungrateful person if I didn’t take care of you now.” Crossing the deck, she opened the wrought-iron screen door.

She’d left the reinforced storm door open to catch a breeze off the lake. She hadn’t thought of a bear coming in, but she should have. The screen door wouldn’t stop a bear. She’d allowed herself to get complacent and careless, and the wolf had paid the price.

Once inside, she led him straight into her bedroom. “Stay right there. I’ll make you a spot to lie down.” Pulling the quilt from her bed, she folded it into a large square and placed it in a corner of the room. The wolf might get blood on it, but she didn’t care.

After creating a bed for the wolf, she guided the animal over to rest. Its resistance to her commands was fading as its stamina ebbed. Sinking down to the makeshift bed and lying on the side that hadn’t been injured, it closed its green eyes, which had become dull and lifeless.

“I’ll make you well.” Crouching down, she caressed the large head and once more was amazed at the silky texture of its fur. Then again, she’d never touched a wolf before. Maybe they all felt like that.

Leaving the bedroom, she made sure the doors and windows were closed and locked to keep the wolf in and the bears out. Then she collected the supplies she’d need—towels, washcloths, a basin of warm water, antiseptic, and gauze. She also grabbed a prescription liquid antibiotic. It was the first time in a long while she was grateful for her internship with the vet.

Polecat was so far from the nearest medical facility that she’d talked a doctor friend into letting her keep an antibiotic on hand for times when she needed it and the roads were closed. If she could get some of that down the wolf’s throat, so much the better.

When she returned, the wolf lay motionless except for its heaving flanks. Correction, his flanks. She confirmed what she’d assumed was true, that she was dealing with a male wolf.

She used towels and gentle pressure on his wounds until the bleeding stopped. Now to see if she could get some of the antibiotic into him. Filling the eyedropper with the liquid, she sank to her knees and wondered if this was the craziest thing she’d ever done. If she tried to give him the medicine and he mangled her hand, he could ruin her career.

But without this wolf, her career wouldn’t have started in the first place. She leaned down and touched his muzzle. “I want you to swallow this. It will fight any potential infection from those claws.”

The green eyes opened. She had the oddest sensation that he understood exactly what she’d said. Silly, of course. He was a wolf, and he might understand intonations, but he wouldn’t know the meaning of the words.

“I’m going to ease open your jaws and squirt this in. I want you to swallow it.” She talked to him as if he had a full command of the language, which helped her deal with the surreal nature of this moment. A wild wolf was about to spend the night in her bedroom.

Whether the wolf understood her intentions or not, he didn’t object when she pried his powerful jaws apart and squirted the antibiotic into the back of his throat. He gagged a little, but he didn’t bite or snarl. He just swallowed as instructed, like a good dog.

Rachel sat back on her heels and took a deep breath. “Okay. That was a start. Now I need to clean your wounds, and that’s going to hurt. But if I don’t, you’ll run the risk of infection. The antibiotic will help, but I want to cover all the bases.”

The wolf sighed and closed his eyes. Once again, she suspected he had lived in someone’s home because he was so comfortable inside a house. Maybe he was a wolf hybrid. In any case, she’d be careful about broadcasting his presence until she had a better idea of where he might belong.

Lionel was scheduled to come over in the morning, and he might know something about this wolf. If not, he’d keep quiet if she asked him to. He might refuse to buy her chocolate candy, but he wouldn’t betray a confidence.

If Lionel knew nothing, she might ask Ted if he’d heard of anyone domesticating a wolf or keeping a hybrid. No, maybe not Ted. He could get gabby. She’d be careful what she said to him. In any case, this wasn’t the time to nail fliers to telephone poles or post an update on Facebook.

No telling what sort of wildlife regulations she was flaunting by having this creature in her house. But he’d protected her and she’d return the favor. If it weren’t for all her traveling, she would consider keeping him if he seemed willing to stay. It might mean breaking a law, perhaps, but having a constant source of inspiration for her carving would be very cool.

Impractical, though. She was away so much that keeping an animal would be unfair. Besides, this one was far too magnificent to be at some human’s beck and call. He might have been tame once, but if he’d returned to the wild, she wouldn’t dream of taking away his freedom. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t let her.

If Jake could have dragged himself away from Rachel after the fight with the bear, he would have done it. But tangling with the grizzly had taken its toll, and he’d been dazed by the encounter and in shock from loss of blood. Shifting into human form would have helped because a shift always aided the healing process. It was one of the benefits of being Were.

But he hadn’t been able to retreat into the forest to accomplish that before Rachel had grabbed a fistful of fur. In his weakened state, he’d allowed her to guide him into her house. Now, in the confines of her bedroom, he really couldn’t shift.

If he were with anyone besides Rachel, he’d be freaked-out right now. He’d never interacted with a human while in wolf form. But he thought that he could trust Rachel. Her empathy for wild creatures, especially wolves, should keep her from putting him at risk.

She wasn’t likely to spread the word about him, because she didn’t want to attract attention any more than he did. At the most she might tell her assistant, Lionel, and maybe Ted. Lionel wouldn’t blab and neither would Ted, unless he drank beer with his poker buddies.

Jake could play the role of faithful wolf-dog for a day or so, until he felt strong enough to slip out the door when Rachel wasn’t looking. In the meantime, he’d been handed an excuse to be near her, and maybe he should relax and enjoy it. He’d never have trusted himself to spend hours alone with her in human form, but as a wolf, he’d be fine.