Page 2 of Burning Secrets

Where was his pack? She lifted her glasses, scanned the area. Brutus and Cleo had returned to the den they’d used last year. The pack usually congregated in and around the craggy shoreline. This year, however, they seemed more scattered, the pack thinner.

He wouldn’t take on a bear without the pack. Not unless…

He hadn’t gotten ousted as alpha, had he? She searched his body for wounds, evidence of a fight.

Brutus rushed at the bear, who turned, swatted. Brutus jerked away, snarling, barking.

The bear landed on all fours, growled, and then shook his head side to side. Agitated. Nervous.

Watch out, Brutus.The grizzly huffed, stomped, but Brutus stood his ground, snapping, growling, barking.

She tucked away her bear spray, picked up her phone. Snapped a picture.

And then, just like that, the bear moved off, turning, lumbering away.

Brutus climbed the flat stone, barking after it. Still growling.

She stood, took another picture of the wolf, deep-gray hair along its body, white tufted hair between his legs and along his snout, dark black eyes, a bushy light-gray tail, a ring of black at the end.

A beautiful alpha male. And maybe he’d just saved her life.

And this, right here, was why she’d come to Alaska. Sure, she’d joined the Midnight Sun fire crew, but that had simply landed her on the map in the right place. Given her a reason to show up at the Forest Service office in search of Professor Samson, who’d guest taught for a week at Montana State University in Bozeman.

Right then, JoJo had known what she wanted to do with her life.

Study these animals, discover what made them fierce and brave and enabled them to thrive in the harsh Alaskan frontier.

Maybe figure out how to do the same.

Brutus turned and looked at her, straight on. The breeze picked up, rustled the brush, combed through his hair.

He didn’t seem displaced from leadership.

And then he growled. A low, lethal warning.

Oh. She pocketed her phone. Kept eye contact. “No need for that, Brute.”Get bigger.She spotted a rock, climbed on it. Raised her arms.

His growl deepened, and he lowered his head.

“I’m not the bad guy!” She clapped her hands. “Go away!” She grabbed her whistle, blew it, piercing, bright, shrill.

He raised his lips in a snarl.

What was his deal? She’d gotten too close once, and he’d emerged from the den, but she’d simply backed away, and he’d let her go.

“I’m not going to hurt your pups, Brute.” She clapped her hands, then unzipped her jacket and held it open. “Go away!”

He took a step toward her, and she reached for her bear spray. “Don’t make me use this?—”

The wolf launched at her.

She screamed, stumbled back, slipped and slammed into the bramble, bounced off, hit the rocky edge with her hip.

Pain exploded through her body, but she rolled, found the spray. Screamed.

Brutus appeared above her, snarling, barking, nipping.

She deployed the spray as Brutus leaped at her. The spray burned him in the face, and he yelped.

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