Page 50 of Axe-ing for Trouble
“The last time I was here, I was terrified. But sitting here with you, I feel safe.”
My heart stuttered at her words. My instinct was to puff up with pride. Of course I could keep her safe. But I reined it in. In reality, that safety was only an illusion. She was in danger. We both knew it.
But her attitude was contagious. This place was beautiful. The foliage and the crisp air fueled me and encouraged me to keep going.
She reached into the pocket of the giant jacket I’d lent her and held out a treat to Ripley, who sat patiently, her tail beating the dirt path with excitement.
“I love this dog.” She leaned forward and scratched her ears. “You are the best girl, Ripley. The best.”
With a quiet groan that betrayed just how much this excursion had taken out of her, she sat up.
“Where did you get her?”
I opened my mouth, but before I could respond, a familiar sound interrupted me.
“Do you hear that?” I pivoted, scanning the trees. “There,” I said, pointing at a massive curved oak up ahead. “That’s an American redstart.”
She squinted, one hand blocking the sun from her eyes. “The little black bird?”
I hummed. “See his long tail and the orange streaks?”
She nodded.
“They’re a protected species up here. Listen.”
We sat perfectly still, and eventually, the bird opened its flat bill and let out a series of melodic squeaks and chirps.
“That’s different.”
“Yes, their warble is longer than that of most birds. We’ve done a lot up here to protect habitats, and I did a lot of research, so I nerd out when I see one.”
She picked at the trail mix and grinned. “You’re a birdwatcher? Never would have guessed that.”
“I’m a student of the forest.” I leaned back on my hands. “Spent my life out here, getting to know the trees and the animals. And birds are fascinating creatures.”
“You’re full of surprises.” She rubbed Ripley’s head, her expression softening. “Now where did you find this beautiful creature and how sad will you be when I steal her?”
Ripley watched Mila, her eyes full of love and devotion. The sight sent a surge of panic through me. She really could steal my beloved dog. Ripley would probably go willingly, and I didn’t think I’d have the heart to stop her.
“She found me.” I poured trail mix into my hand and tossed it into my mouth. “Up at the Northwest Camp, near the Montreal border. It’s been about five years now, I think. We went up one early spring, while the ground was still frozen, to do a survey and collect some data. We were sleeping in an old camp hut with no heat. It was nearly impossible to sleep with the number of mice scurrying around in the walls and ceiling. I was lying in bed, wide awake, when I heard a crying sound. I shoved my feet into my boots and pulled on my coat, then went out to investigate.”
Mila’s eyes widened. “Was she hurt?”
I nodded. “I found her in the deep woods. She’d dug herself a little den under a boulder. She had a broken leg. Her fur was matted and she was scraped up pretty badly.” I scratched her chin, assessing her now. My beloved Ripley. How far we’d both come since that day. She was the most loving, protective creature on earth. She went everywhere with me, and at night, she slept in her special bed, on the floor right next to mine.
“We were hundreds of miles from civilization. I couldn’t tell you where she came from, but she was small and scared and I…” I dropped my head between my knees. The thought of how malnourished she was back then always hit me hard.
“You’re a protector,” Mila finished with a light elbow to my ribs. “No denying it.”
“Something like that.” I straightened, keeping my forearms on my knees. “So I brought her home and took her to the vet. After that, we were inseparable. I had no idea she’d grow into the size of a small horse, but I’m not complaining.”
The gentle beast gazed up at me with those soulful dark eyes, showing me again that she understood so much more than I realized.
The vet had suggested she was part wolf hound. It made sense, with the dark gray fur with the occasional black spot. She had a white circle around one eye, which wasn’t a wolf hound trait, but she was perfectly Ripley.
“She adores you,” Mila said, pulling another treat from her pocket. “I’ve never had a pet. Always wanted one, even though I wasn’t sure I was a dog person.”
“Even as a kid?”
