Kristal Hollis - Charmed By The Wolf

“I didn’t slip, Sheriff. I was pushed.”

* * *

Fingers cramped and achy, Penelope returned her pencils to the holder and shook out her hands.

After settling into the cabin yesterday, she’d planned out about two weeks’ worth of activities for the children’s workshops, which left her wide-open for a three-day weekend before starting her new job.

This morning, she’d taken a leisurely drive around Maico to orient herself with the town and bought a few groceries from the market. She’d also stopped by the automotive shop Tristan had recommended. Short-handed due to a virus going around, the owner had scheduled her car service for next week. If Nel had dropped Tristan’s name, she might’ve gotten the oil change and battery check today, but would’ve had to wait all day. Since the car seemed to be running fine, she opted to come back next week.

This afternoon, she’d immersed herself in art. Usually, she made quick sketches of a scene she wanted to paint.

This one had taken several hours, but she was incorporating several disconnected elements. Before picking up a paintbrush, she wanted to make sure the image in her mind would actually make sense on canvas. To check the accuracy of the two focal subjects, she picked up her phone and swiped between the snapshot of the black wolf she’d taken in Cassie’s office yesterday and the photo she’d taken today of Cassie sitting on the floor in a small nook off the main lobby, playing with her daughter.

Precocious and quite verbal for child a few weeks shy of her first birthday, Brenna had noticed Penelope watching them and immediately determined that Penelope would be her new best friend. At the toddler’s insistence and Cassie’s invitation, Penelope had joined them in the dining hall rather than eating lunch alone.

Old habits were difficult to change, and putting herself out there to meet new people was harder than she’d imagined. Cassie tried to help, introducing her to staff members and the townsfolk who stopped by the resort restaurant.

Left to her own devices, Penelope preferred to hole up in the cabin to paint, curl up with a book or sit on the back porch drinking hot coffee and wishing for a doughnut like the one Tristan had devoured as he rushed into the resort while she was there with Cassie and Brenna. Dressed in slouchy black shorts, a black T-shirt and a dark gray skullcap despite summer temperatures, he’d flashed her a quick smile and a wink before disappearing down the corridor to Gavin Walker’s office. The high from his attention had lingered all day.

Penelope uncurled her legs and touched her bare feet to the floor, curling her toes in the plush rug before padding into the kitchen. It was after midnight, and supper was little more than a memory to her stomach.

She slipped on her sneakers, grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter and strolled out the back door. Sitting on the porch swing, she munched her snack.

The moon, not quite full, beamed in the sky, big and bright, bathing everything in a soft, silvery glow.

She stepped off the porch and her skin warmed as if sunshine had disguised itself in moonbeams. As long as the thin strip of dark clouds remained in the distance, there would be enough light to follow the walking trail without use of the flashlight.

Quiet in Atlanta where she’d lived was definitely different than the quiet here. She could actually hear her thoughts, with no interference from the static of urban living.

Even in the utter stillness, she didn’t feel frightened or alone. Cassie and her husband and daughter lived a mile up the mountain. Gavin Walker and his wife, Abby, lived in private quarters adjacent to the resort. And security officers routinely patrolled the property, although she hadn’t caught sight of them.

Her ears tuned to the chorus of crickets and the soft gurgling of the river. Tiny lights blinked among the dark trees in a hypnotic dance. Watching fireflies wasn’t on her mental list of the new experiences she wanted to explore, but it should’ve been because they were simply mesmerizing.

A loud rustling echoed in the woods. The possibility of an unintentional wildlife encounter hadn’t crossed her mind when she left the cabin.

A rustle of commotion erupted ahead. There was an ear-shattering squeal, followed by low animalistic growls.

Wolves!

Cassie had said the Co-op wolves weren’t dangerous. They had handlers and were confined to the sanctuary miles away, which meant the ones in the woods had come from somewhere else.

A flurry of movement divided in two directions, one headed straight for Penelope. She turned to run, tripped over a tree root and hit the ground with a startled cry.

Run! Her mind screamed; however, her body had other ideas. Her feet seemed stuck in quicksand and neither of her legs would move.

“Security?” she cried out, hoping one of the patrols would hear.

The bulk of the commotion moved away from where Nel had fallen, except for a loud thumping that steadily came closer until a large wolf emerged from the shadows.

Her chest locked in the last pant of air. Her shoulders rose and dropped with the effort to breathe, but nothing entered her lungs. Unable to scream, unable to run, she pulled herself into a turtle-shell posture, covering her head and neck with her arms.

Getting eaten by a wolf was definitely not on her list of things to try before she died. And she certainly was about to die, a horrible, painful death.

A caustic tear burned a trail down her cheek. She didn’t dare wipe it away, fearing the animal now hovering over her would chomp into her if she moved.

Warm puffs of breath grazed her hands, which were clasped over the back of her neck. Despite her arms helmeting her head, the animal nudged past Penelope’s defensive pose and found her ear. A cold, damp nose pressed against the shell.

Come on, sweet cheeks. Sit up and show me your pretty face.

“Tristan?” She peeked beneath her arms.

The wolf gently touched his paw to her shoulder. If the animal was going to eat her, he was taking his time sizing her up.

“Tristan,” she called again.

The woods remained silent. In her panic, she must’ve imagined his voice.

The wolf plopped his rump next to her. Head cocked to the side, his gaze mapped every inch of her body.

Back aching, knees throbbing and toes going numb, she needed to move and stretch before she lost all feeling in her limbs. Slowly, she unfurled from the defensive huddle and sat up.

The wolf didn’t move, growl or otherwise display any aggression.

He was nearly double the size she expected for a wolf, and his coat was a beautiful blend of light to dark golds and soft browns. In contrast, his pointed ears were richly dark except for the outer rims tipped in white.

“How unusual.” Without thinking, she reached to feel if his ears were as velvety as they looked.

The wolf didn’t shy away; in fact, he seemed not to notice until she actually touched him.

A spark of static electricity zapped her palm and the charge spread throughout her body. The wolf yelped and backed away.

“I didn’t mean to shock you.” She held up her hands. “I just wanted to rub your ears.”

The wolf gave her a funny look.

“Yeah, weird. Right?” Idiotic, actually. That animal was a wolf, not a Labrador. “All righty.” Penelope stood slowly to avoid startling him. “I’m going back to the cabin.” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder.

The wolf simply stared.

Mindful of her movements, she turned and plodded purposefully along the worn path. A quick look behind her confirmed the wolf followed. She stopped, he stopped. She started, so did he.

She climbed the porch steps; he sat at the edge of the trail.

Safe and locked inside the cabin, she grabbed her phone and took a picture from the kitchen door of the wolf watching her. A howl sounded in the distance. Her wolf cocked his ears, then threw back his head and answered the call. He needed to return to his pack and she needed to get to bed.