Hell, she was one of a group of kids I’d babysat—under duress—when their parents needed a night off.
My heart flew right up into my throat, and I thought I was actually going to throw up for three full seconds before I got myself under control and started thinking again.
She was backed up against a stark wall of stone that rose right up out of the forest, her face as pale as the snow around her, tears streaming down her cheeks. In her hand, I saw what was left of a bouquet of wildflowers—the kind that were hardy enough to stand the first couple months of snow. She must have found a patch of them in some sheltered location and decided to pick them.
That didn’t explain what she was doing out here by herself. It didn’t even start to explain how she’d managed to get away from the group without anyone else noticing her, when I had given at least ten people specific instructions to watch out for all the kids in the group and make sure they didn’t have a chance to wander off and get lost.
But none of that mattered right now. Because the wolves had taken one look at me and, as a group, decided that my presence was some sort of inciting factor when it came to attacking her.
The three adults all crouched for a split second, and then sprang right at the little girl that I’d come to think of as one of my responsibilities.
21
I was moving before I had any real idea of what I meant to do about the whole thing, which meant that as I sprinted forward, my instincts kicked in—with my brain running a distant second. I knew I had a gun in my hand, and on some level I knew that if I shot it, there was a good chance that I’d be able to scare the wolves away.
But I’d also seen wolves with their prey before. I’d seen how possessive they got—and how stubborn. And I knew that now, in the cold of winter, they were even more desperate. Even more intent on getting food for themselves. And since these particular wolves also had young ones to feed—and, if I was right, pregnant females to take care of—they would be even more set on keeping their prey than the normal summertime wolves.
That didn’t even start to take into account the fact that whatever had happened in the atmosphere seemed to have driven the animals in the area insane. I had no idea whether they would react to gunfire the way they would have last week, or even yesterday.
Besides, their prey right now was Zoe, and there was no way I was going to let them have her. It didn’t even enter my mind as a possibility. So I had to do the one thing that I knew for a fact would work.
I had to attack them, and my body knew it. I was flying toward the younger set of wolves before I could think clearly, but by the time I’d reached them, my brain had caught up. I grabbed one of them by the scruff of the neck and threw it to the side, then went after the other. They were pups, but they were still wolves, which made them a lot bigger—and a lot stronger—than the average dog. Stronger even than the average man, if they got going. Because they had wild animal blood, and that meant they weren’t going to hold back when it came to something attacking them.
But they were also young. Four months old wasn’t full-grown yet, and it made them young enough to not have started taking part in the hunt, yet. They didn’t know how to kill, yet—and they didn’t even really have full control over their limbs. I was counting on all of that to work to my advantage.
I was also counting on the adults to care more about protecting their young than about attacking mine.
The pup I’d shoved out of the way went with a yelp of distress, and though it got up quickly enough, it also didn’t come after me. The one I had a hold of, though, was fighting. Snapping and growling and yelping and putting up quite a fuss, it was also throwing its body from side to side. I quickly put my arm around its neck and tried to establish a choke hold, but the wolf was both bigger than anything I was used to dealing with, and also moving way too much for me to get a good handle on it.
I got one arm wrapped around its throat, but when I tried to hook my other arm around it and grab my left arm with my right hand, the animal threw itself to the side, very nearly getting out of my grasp entirely. I moved with it, trying to keep my arm around its throat while avoiding its teeth, and hauled back on it, attempting to get it up against my body.
If I could get it up on its hind legs, I thought, I could get my other hand around its throat and get it into a choke hold. I didn’t want to kill it, but I needed to incapacitate it enough to hold onto it while its parents—or pack mates, at least—figured out what I was doing.
I could hear them snarling and snapping in the distance, and Zoe’s screams had made the change I’d been afraid of, reaching the height of panic and pain now as the wolves actually went after her. She was still screaming, which was a good sign. It meant she was still alive and alert. I needed her to stay alert.
“John!” she screamed, her voice full of pain.
My heart almost broke right in two at that moment, but instead of pausing and allowing it to, I sent all my energy, all my heartbreak and fear for her, into my fight with the younger wolf.
“Zoe, I’m going to get you!” I shouted. “Can you move?”
She’d stopped listening to me, though, and I could hear her screams increasing in pitch. Things were getting bad over there—and I didn’t want to think about why. I didn’t want to think about what the wolves were doing to her. I couldn’t, not right now. I needed to get their attention on me—and that meant I needed these younger wolves to do their jobs. I needed them to make more noise.
Or I needed to move them to where it would catch the adults’ attention. They obviously hadn’t noticed that I had their babies, yet. I needed to change that.
I finally got my hand latched around my arm at that point, which gave me better leverage, and I started dragging the animal toward the larger fight. I needed to be where those adult wolves could see me. I could see now that they were almost right on top of Zoe, the bright pink of her favorite snow jacket only a flash of color between their legs and snapping jaws.
I could also see blood on the snow.
“John, we’ve got a shot!” a voice suddenly shouted out from behind me.
Bob, I thought, matching a name to the voice and thanking whoever was watching out for me that they’d finally arrived. Help. Help was here.
But a second later, I realized that they weren’t going to be able to do a damn thing.
“Don’t shoot!” I screamed back. “They’re right on top of her; you’ll run the risk of catching her if you shoot into that pack!”
I jerked the wolf in front of me closer to the pack, still counting on my plan to at least get the adults off of the girl. If I could get them away from her, then Bob and Joe and Marlon could shoot as much as they wanted to, without running the risk of hitting her.
Finally, the wolf I was holding let out a yip, and then a snarl, and it was enough to get the attention of one of the adult wolves. It jerked its head up and in our direction, its yellow eyes meeting my gaze, and I shivered despite myself. I’d seen wolves before. Seen them in the wild, as well as in cages.
But I’d never met them face-to-face in the wilderness. Never had the full attention of a grown adult. An adult who had killing on its mind and two very vulnerable human beings within jumping distance.
The intelligence in its eyes was eery, and I knew in that moment that I was outmatched. I couldn’t take those things down. Hell, I couldn’t even take one of them down. If they came for me, I’d be done for, and it wasn’t going to be a pretty death.
But it would get them away from Zoe. And, I reminded myself, if I could get them away from her then I could free my friends up to shoot at them. Take them down.