Ashton Daigle

They left again the next morning about an hour before dawn.

Both Jesse and Rakov reasoned, correctly, that wolf would likely travel at nightfall if it were injured. Jesse pointed out, though, that the distance between resting places had been greater and that there was a good chance the wolf may have already bypassed Grand Junction and continued north.

“Yes, that is likely, but I think there are still a few things we can learn by following its trail,” Rakov said.

“Yeah, that’s only if the snow hasn’t covered everything up by now,” said Jesse as he glanced warily at the sky.

It hadn’t snowed much over night, but even an inch or two was enough to cover resting places, tracks or a blood trail. But, as Rakov pointed out, the wolf had stayed off the main trail and was last traveling in a deeply wooded area, which was a little less susceptible to being covered in snow.

As they were about to pull out of town, they were surprised by a figure stepping gout of the shadows, into the street ahead of them. Rakov thought it was Garvey at first, coming to start trouble. But Jesse saw instantly that it was the kid.

“I missed you two before you pulled out yesterday morning,” the kid said. “You guys mind if I ride along with you this morning?”

Rakov glanced at Jesse, as if looking for an opinion, but Jesse just said, “He’s got good instincts. Another set of eyes and ears won’t hurt.”

Rakov nodded in reluctant agreement.

“Sure kid, climb on up,” Jesse said. “But the first hour of the ride is quiet time. Relax, enjoy the ride and keep your eyes peeled for anything that looks like a wolf.”

All of the wooded areas ended about three miles outside of town, which meant if the wolf was trying to make a crossing of some sort, it would be exposed and out in the open. The early dawn sun from the east would cast long shadows to the west, creating silhouettes, which might make spotting the wolf easier. Once the sun was fully up, the wolf’s gray white fur would help it blend right in with the snowy, rocky terrain.

Once again, as they left town, they passed Garvey and his followers. A fire was still burning and Jesse noticed that the pile of dead wolves in the wagon had diminished some. Rakov and Jesse had seen the men burning the corpses on their way into town the night before. Garvey had heckled them, trying to get them to bite, but they just rode past. Now, Garvey and his crew were drunk, passed out again.

It took about an hour to reach the spot they’d marked on the trail the day before, maybe a little longer.

“Rakov and I are going to go into the woods,” Jesse instructed the kid. “I want you to stay with the wagon. This trail basically runs parallel to the trail we were following yesterday. We’ll holler out ever ten minutes or so and you can keep pace.”

The kid agreed and asked, “You think this is really the trail, of our wolf?”

“Pretty sure it is,” Jesse said.

“That will be pretty good luck if the wolf is injured,” the kid said. “We might be able to get it this morning and be done with all this mess.”

“That’s the hope at least,” Jesse said.

With that, Jesse and Rakov entered the woods. It was slow going, but they’d carefully marked a trail on their way out simply by breaking a few vines or twigs and within five minutes they were at the last place they knew the wolf had rested.

Over the course of the next three hours they found two more places the wolf had rested, but after that the trail seemed to just stop. They forged further ahead, but the woods thinned out considerably and it was obvious that fresh snow had fallen.

“Even if she passed this way, we’re not going to see it because of the snow,” Jesse said. “And, besides that, woods end right up there. It’s all open from that point all the way back to town.”

The Russian stared into the white gray horizon ahead and cursed.

“Back to square one,” he muttered.

“Looks that way,” Jesse replied. “It’s all right. I have a feeling we’re going to turn something up soon.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” Rakov said, and the two men wandered out of the woods and met the kid back on the main trail.

“Any luck?” the kid asked.

“The trail stopped,” Jesse said.

“It’s a shame to hear that,” the kid replied. “I had a really good feeling coming out here.”

“Yeah, you and me both kid,” Jesse said. “You and me both.”

The sun had only peeked out briefly that morning. It began to snow heavily as they pulled away, after they’d eaten lunch. It was growing prematurely dark, as it did when heavy afternoon snow storms rolled through.

The horses were tired and Rakov didn’t force them to gallop. In fact, almost all their eyes were peeled to the west the whole time, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fugitive wolf. They were actually about an hour from town, practically lulled into a drowsy cold stupor when the kid’s eyes lit up and he bolted straight, upright like an arrow.

“Look there,” he yelled, barely able to contain himself. “Something moved.”

Rakov and Jesse looked out to where the kid was pointing, but the darkened landscape looked flat and shapeless.

“Where, where?” asked Rakov in monotone.

“There,” said the kid, exasperated.

“Kid, I think you’re just trail-weary,” Jesse said. “Ain’t no shame in it. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you.”

“No,” the kid insisted. “I saw something. I know I did. Look, there it is again.”

This time Jesse did see it, it was a slight movement, close to the ground. It looked like something trying to walk, or crawl, falling down again.

“Son of a bitch, Rakov, stop the wagon,” Jesse hollered. “The kid’s right. There is something moving out there.”

“I saw it, I saw it too,” Rakov exclaimed, trying to bring the horses to a halt. “It’s too dark to see.”

Jesse, though, was already out of the wagon with his rifle drawn. Rakov quickly followed, yelling at the kid to stay with the wagon.

“Be careful,” Rakov called out to Jesse. “If it’s wounded it’s dangerous.”

Jesse stopped short where he was. He’d lost it. He scanned the area quickly as Rakov ran up besides him. He too was breathing heavily. They paused and listened. The sound was feint at first, a low moaning sound, followed by a strange growl.

“It doesn’t sound like any wolf I’ve ever heard,” Rakov said.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jesse agreed. “What the hell was that?”

Just at that moment the ground seemed to rise up in front of them, and a dark, shadowy blur darted towards them, grabbing Jesse, snarling as it tossed him aside like a rag doll.

“Good God it’s human,” Rakov yelled.

It ignored Rakov and sprinted full speed towards the wagon.

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” Rakov screamed out to the kid, as he hauled Jesse up to his feet.

“It’s a woman,” the kid yelled, petrified out of his mind, as she ran towards the wagon.

As she neared the wagon, the kid panicked and, having turned his rifle around held it in his hands like a baseball bat. “Get back,” he roared at the woman, who cringed slightly, still snarling.

It was just enough to keep her preoccupied. With his full weight, Rakov launched himself into the air and tackled her. They fell to the ground in a heap, Rakov trying to subdue her, her biting and clawing at any piece of Rakov’s flesh she could find with tooth or nail.

The kid was suddenly in the melee and before long so was Jesse. As Jesse and the kid tussled with the woman, who was incredibly, wildly strong, Rakov ran to the wagon and fumbled through his saddle bag, removing a needle and syringe. He rushed back to where the three were still rolling around.

The woman was totally naked and stunk of urine and shit.

“Hold her still dammit,” Rakov yelled.

“I’m trying to,” screamed Jesse.

Rakov plunged the needle into her flesh and jammed the syringe and she arched her back and let out a guttural scream. She snarled, snapping her head to the left and to the right and continued to buck underneath both Jesse and the kid’s weight.

It took a long time, longer than what it should have considering the dosage of tranquilizer Rakov had administered, but slowly her movements began to die down and she slipped begrudgingly into unconsciousness.

“What if God’s name is this?” Rakov stammered. “She’s completely nude. She should be frozen to death. How she hasn’t slipped into hypothermic shock is beyond me.”

“Roll her over,” said the kid. “I can’t even see her. Let’s get a look at her face.”

Together, Rakov and the kid rolled her over, as Jesse, who was winded and doubled over, tried to catch his breath.

“Wow, she’s beautiful,” said the kid. “Filthy dirty, but she’s beautiful.”

Something about his caught Jesse’s attention and he knew it before he even looked at her. And when he did look at her, confirming it, he wished he was wrong. Contorted in snarled, unconscious grimace was Namid.

Jesse stifled a horrified scream of his own and then wept openly in disbelief. After all this time she was alive. But she wasn’t the same. He had the feeling she never would be again.