Page 131 of True North

The wobbly little bellows rack up the closer I get.

Then they stop.

That’s not good.

Clucking my tongue, I send Mara faster. A low branch rushes me, and I duck. Straightening, the air in my lungs freezes as it stalls out as I take in what stands in the small clearing.

Wolves.

Four of them.

The calf stands, rump against a tree, cornered.

I grab for the Winchester at my back and come up empty.

Fuck.

I gave it to Ned.

The calf pees, the rancid yellow coloring the snow, the acid tang scenting the air.

The wolves close in on the calf.

“Hey!” I wave at them ferociously, as if that will scare them off.

You idiot, Louisa.

Shaking, I wrap the reins around the pommel.

I shouldn’t leave Mara’s back, but they’re not afraid of the horse, and we can’t lose that little calf.

I clap my hands, and the sound cracks through the air.

Two of the wolves flinch, but none of them retreat.

I need that calf.

I need...

The calf bolts toward Mara.

A wolf lunges for it. I spur Mara forward, putting us between prey and predator.

They’re so fuckin’ game.

Starvation, no doubt, drives them to act this recklessly.

I twist in the saddle to see the calf scamper over the debris-littered ground. Two wolves take off after it.

“No! Fuck!”

I spin Mara around and break her into a rushed gait, desperate to get to the calf. To intercept before they take it down. Thunder growls overhead.

Snapping and hoofbeats close in on us. I’m screaming at the calf, the wolves.

Nothing helps.

I’m almost to the three animals when I catch a glimpse of a white hat and Darby’s brown coat.

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