Uncontrollable (The Nature of Grace, Book 2) (10 page)

The hairs on my neck stand, and I hear myself whisper, “Al.”

Just then, Porter steps out of the trees with snow on his hat. He stops and stares in the direction we’re facing. “See a ghost or something?”

Wyn screams like a little girl. “Jesus!”

I jolt back to life but stay squatted because my legs are shaking. “Ah, sorry. We were wondering who you were.”

Porter takes off his hat and hits it against his leg to shake off any dirt or debris. “Who else would you be expecting?”

I mutter, still staring into the forest, “No one special.” Bummed he’s not Mo, but relieved he’s not Al.

I pull my eyes away from the woods and turn around. Still can’t help feeling as if Mo and Al are out there somewhere. Crazy. That would mean one was coming back from the dead, and the other was coming back for revenge.

“Radio wasn’t working or I’d have called.” He slings the hat back on his head and rubs his hands together. “So… taking a break?”

Skyler is still sitting by the fire, looking like a blob of fluffy cotton candy in her white and pink furry get up. “It was cold.”

She was obviously completely unaware of what happened in the last five minutes – my moment of hope followed by a moment of fear.

Porter nods a little longer than necessary. “Yep, and it will get colder. A bad front’s coming in a couple of days.” He grabs a handful of snow and throws in on the fire. The flames hiss in anger. He stomps out the embers and claps his gloved hands together. “Time to find the wolves before it gets dark. You guys are close. Transmitters show them within a half mile.”

“Let’s go then.” I sling the backpack over my shoulder.

Porter smoothes his graying mustache down with two fingers. “New leadership?”

I smile. “Let’s just say there was a
coup d'état
.”

Wyn frowns. “Very funny.”

Porter tucks his lumberjack shirt into his snow pants and zips his coat. “Fine, then. Half a mile to the north. Grace, why don’t you lead the way?”

I can’t help but smile. Finally someone smart.

The four of us hike in a single-file line up a thin path bordered by two-foot embankments. One step to either side, and we’d be in snow up to our knees. No one says a word. Well, except for Skyler, who is still grumbling several. Luckily with two people between us, I can’t hear much, which allows me to finally relish in my surroundings.

The mountain sounds are different in winter than in summer – not as much twittering or skittering. Just the wind whistling through the thinning trees, the sparkling snow crunching under my feet, and the faint song from a family of nuthatches perched high in a tree. The smooth, untouched snow hides the land’s blemishes and gives the impression we’re walking amongst the clouds.

As we move up the mountain, I can feel the temperature change. Soon my nose is numb and running, and a chill skitters down my spine. My breath comes out in puffs as I cut through the untouched trail for everyone behind me. It’s difficult, and I can already feel my thighs throbbing. But I’m not about to give Wyn the last laugh by quitting or taking a break.

I forge ahead and talk over my shoulder to Porter, who’s close behind. “How long have you been tracking wolves?”

He huffs as he answers. “More than forty years. Used to live out in Montana. Friends owned a cattle ranch there and used to complain of wolves getting their sheep. I used to volunteer to relocate the wolves. Course those were gray wolves. Not red ones.”

“Aren’t they pretty similar?”

I move aside a branch and hold it so it doesn’t slap him in the face. He nods his appreciation.

“Gray wolves are much larger and live in packs of up to thirty; whereas, red wolves are usually found in packs of ten. Gray wolves also tend to be much more aggressive than red wolves, who tend to be much harder to spot.”

I keep moving up the mountain. “Have you ever been to North Carolina before now?”

“My wife died here.”

“Oh! I’m sorry.”

Porter pauses for a second. “Me too.”

I take a few more steps and decide to change the conversation quickly. I don’t want to start sharing our stories of death. Not right now. “Do you think the reintroduction will work?”

His breath is a little labored as he answers. “Depends on if we can keep them away from poachers and cars. Keep track of them to be sure they stay healthy.” Porter drops his voice to a whisper and points up the mountain. “One of the pack’s main dens should be just over that ridge.”

I keep walking along the path until I start to see small wolf prints in the snow. Only one set. They lead up the mountain. I kneel down to touch them. Next to them is what looks like more shoe prints.

I hear myself whisper, “You been up here today?”

Porter almost slams into me from behind. “No, why?”

A chill skitters down my back. Without answering, I mutter under my breath. “Oh, no.”

Before Porter can ask any questions, I take off up the hill, kicking my feet out to the sides over the high snow. My pack weighs me down and my legs resist, but I push on through the thick ground cover.

Porter calls after me. “Wait!”

But I don’t stop. To be honest, I don’t know why I’m running, but my gut tells me something isn’t right.

Both prints head off on the same path, as if one is tracking the other. I veer right and sludge through the snow until I come upon the source. A red wolf is lying in the snow.

Please, God. No
.

As the rest of my team crashes through the trees behind me, I move quickly around to one side, keeping my distance. Hoping. Praying that this animal is merely hurt but still alive. As soon as I see his eyes, any hope I had is crushed. I cover my mouth as Porter comes into view. He throws down his pack and yells when he sees the wolf lying still.

“Damn it!”

Wyn calls out. “What’s wrong? Is it dead?”

I nod without looking at him, and Skyler wails. Wyn hugs her as she buries her face into his shirt, crying. To be honest, I feel like crying, too, but I don’t. Instead, I reach over and touch the beautiful creature. My fingers slide through his thick, reddish fur.

Porter kneels down, inspecting the dead animal, cussing under his breath.

My lip quivers when I talk. “What happened?”

He lifts up the wolf’s head with his hand. “I can’t tell.”

I stare at the animal. His soft fur quivers in the light breeze, and my stomach churns in distaste.

Porter takes off his hat as if paying his respects. “There’s no blood.” He looks around the area and points to a slew of other prints. “Looks like the pack was here. Maybe he was sick. They left him when they heard you crashing about.”

He frowns at me.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” I stand and move back to give him room so he can inspect the animal more. “Do you think it was an accident?”

“Probably natural causes.”

I look back the way we came. “I saw footprints back there. Maybe a poacher?”

Porter sits back on his heels and shakes his head. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“But how do you know?”

He narrows his eyes. “Because I’ve been doing this for decades.”

“Yes, but…”

“And you’ve been doing this a few minutes.” He stands and softens his voice. “Look, I know this is hard. Seeing your first dead one always is. But this is why we’re out here.”

“To find them dead?”

He unzips his pack and takes out some tracking supplies. “No, to find out why they can’t survive. So we can help them live.” He starts marking the trail and noting coordinates. “Look, why don’t you go rest? I’ll take care of this. You’ve been through enough.”

My head feel fuzzy, so I lean against a tree to steady myself.

Wyn appears next to me and cups my elbow. “You okay?”

I look up into his eyes, and my body starts to tremble. I try a couple times to speak, but my mouth is so dry. It’s like I haven’t had water in days or like I’ve been drinking sand. His expression changes and he puts both hands on my shoulders. It’s more than the wolf.

It’s the death. Seeing it and being around it again.

“You’re cold. You’re shaking.” Wyn takes off his coat and wraps it over my shoulders.

I flinch at his touch and look up into his eyes. “I’m fine.”

I can feel Skyler’s eyes bearing into my skull, but I don’t dare look. No use seeing another dagger shoot from her eyes.

She calls out. “Wyn?”

But Wyn doesn’t budge. He just stands there staring at me, like he’s frozen in the snow. Flakes land on his eyelashes, but he doesn’t blink. It’s the first time we’ve stood face to face since that day at the station. Even though it was months ago, I remember it like it was yesterday. The things he said, the look of disappointment on his face. Even though I’m still mad at how he’s treated me, I realize how much I miss my best friend. In this one moment, it’s like nothing has ever changed between us. It’s as if we only paused for a few months and now someone has pressed Play again.

I hear Skyler again. “Wyn?”

He snaps to life and immediately drops his hands. “Huh? Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“You alright?”

I smile. “Always.”

He spins around and heads off toward Skyler, probably to do some serious damage control.

I move next to Porter, who is standing with his hands on both hips, staring at the dead animal.

“Damn shame. Definitely not good for the project.”

I look from the animal to Porter. “But you said this happens.”

He rubs his neck. “It does, but that doesn’t mean we like it. It’s another sign telling us maybe wolves aren’t meant to be out here anymore.”

“But they are. They have to be.” My sadness flips into anger. These creatures deserve to be out here more than any of us do.

Porter leans over the wolf and removes the transmitter from its neck. He reads the number aloud. “M79. Looks like one of the smaller males.” He wipes his face with a rag. “This won’t be too detrimental for the pack.”

I wait for him to say more, but he goes quiet. “So does that mean they’ll be okay?”

He looks into my eyes. “Let’s hope so.”

Wyn breaks our gaze. “What do we do now?”

Porter points off into the trees. “We have to carry him out.”

Skyler groans behind us and mumbles. “Great.”

Without being asked, I find two long, thick branches. Wyn and I drag them over next to the wolf. I take out the tarp and rope to make a stretcher.

Skyler covers her mouth as we load up the wolf, but I see her gag. “Can’t we just leave it? I mean, it’s dead.”

No smart comment comes from me. I don’t have the energy to answer or argue. My voice is weighed down by my heavy heart. I didn’t expect this at all, or I might not have volunteered.

A person can only take so much death.

Porter drags the animal onto the tarp. “No way. We need it for research. If we leave the body out here, no telling what could get it.” He covers the body and claps his hands together, wiping off the snow. “Wyn, you grab one side, and I’ll get the other. Grace, you lead us out.”

The four of us set off back down the way we came. The light flurry has already covered our tracks. No one says anything the whole hike back, not even Skyler.

But my head is buzzing.

I can’t help but wonder what happened to that wolf.

Survival Skill #8

The rapport with other hikers is critical to making decisions in the wild.

“M
aybe you should bow out of this thing?”

Agent Sweeney sits very still and doesn’t take his eyes off me. Even though we’ve been discussing what happened in the woods, I wasn’t expecting this comment to come out of his mouth.

I fiddle with the zipper on my jacket and shake my head. “What? Why?”

He takes in a deep breath and exhales through his nose, causing a slight whistling sound. “You know why.”

My heart thumps in my ears. “You think he’s back?”

“I didn’t say that.”

I look him in the eyes and spot it – the concern, the worry. “You don’t have to.”

He gets up and walks around the room, up and down the aisles, until he sits on the desk. “Look, Grace. I’m not going to lie. I didn’t necessarily like it when you volunteered for this project, but who was I to hold you back if you were ready to go into the woods again?”

“I was. I mean, I am.”

He shakes his head. “I know, but this changes everything.”

I don’t want to believe he’s right. “Porter says it was natural causes.”

Sweeney rubs his hands together as if trying to keep warm. “Doesn’t matter.”

I pull my long hair back off my face and tug on my turtleneck, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “Do you think Al is involved?” I cringe when I say the name out loud.

Agent Sweeney removes his baseball cap and scratches his head. “I doubt it. He’d be pretty dumb to show his face here again. He knows he’s a wanted man. Not only by me, but by the FBI as well. This has nothing to do with Al. This is because I don’t want you to get involved.”

“In what? The wolf project?”

He crosses his arms, and I’m suddenly reminded of all the times Carl tried to get me off my Dad’s trail. “In anything that’s going to upset you.”