Page 24 of Father of the Wolf

With a deep sigh, Hope pushed all thoughts from her mind except those needed to repair the wolf’s mangled flesh. There were twenty or more bite marks that were bad enough to require stitches. She closed each one, starting with the worst of them. He had one terrible gash that carved out the left side of his neck and shoulder. There was significant damage to the muscle, and it continued to bleed until she repaired the severed artery.

For more than four hours, she and Steve worked to put hairy Humpty back together again. Finally, when they were close to completion, Hope checked the wolf over one last time to be sure they hadn’t missed anything. She had drawn blood and would start lab work in the morning. She wanted to restore this wolf to perfect health.

Steve helped her move the animal to a back room set up with crates and runs where he could recover. Placing him on the cement floor seemed too cold and alone, so Hope made a pallet of old blankets for him. Beside it, she hung the IV bag she insisted would help him recover more quickly. Then she moved the radio and set it to a rock channel with the volume on low. She believed music was soothing to hurt and scared animals and hoped that it would help the wolf.

Long after Steve left, she stood at the gate of the run, watching the wolf sleep. Stairway to Heaven played quietly in the background and she thought about the strange turns her life had taken recently. She only had two choices, to deal with it or deny it. Most days, she had the strength to deal with whatever life threw at her. But every now and then she remembered it was okay to deny what was before her. Some days, it was the only way to get through.

This was one of those times. She would get this wolf back on his feet and find him a place to belong. She wouldn’t worry about werewolves and what else goes bump in the night. Except for the events of that one strange night, the world was exactly as it was before. So, she would put that night from her thoughts. And if she went wild with the full moon, so be it. She would deal with it when the time came.

* * *

“He’s not dead,” Rath said.

“I know you were closest to him. I’m sorry, brother.”

“He is not dead,” Rath said stubbornly aloud in a dry cracking voice. Then he realized Reultan and Díon would not have the strength to help Dàn. Only Sgrios could.

Rath watched as the two exchanged a look that clearly said, Poor Rath has lost his mind, but we’ll take care of him anyway.

Reultan leaned closer. “We can heal you some now. Will you let us?”

“Yeah, let’s get to it.”

With help, Rath lay back on the ground and tried to relax. He knew Reultan would lead the healing. The fact they were brothers would strengthen his powers, enough so that Díon, being a better healer, wouldn’t matter. The healing powers could be better channeled with the proper ceremonies, but even here, without benefit of formal rites, their healing could be very successful.

Rath closed his eyes and felt the healing warmth soothe away his many aches and pains. Without looking, he knew both Reultan and Díon knelt beside him slowly moving their hands over his injuries. Their power would be channeled into the wounds to increase the speed of natural healing. He could feel the pain easing from his broken ribs as they knit back together in the course of only a few moments.

Rath focused on the power flowing into his battered body. He felt the distinct touch of his brother and also Díon. And another?

Yes, definitely a third source of power. Gentler. Subtle. Weak. He recognized that feeling… Dàn!

Rath bolted upright, interrupting the healing. “Knock it off Dàn! You don’t have the strength for that,” he shouted hoarsely at Dàn’s inert body.

His unexpected outburst rocked Reultan and Díon back on their heels. Rath laughed at Reultan’s worried look. Díon looked shocked too, and another, less definable, emotion flickered across his face.

Rath was saved from explaining himself when Sgrios returned. He loped straight to Dàn and shifted back to man form to begin examining Dàn’s injuries.

Now that he was in much better shape, Rath went to help Sgrios. But before he could say anything, Sgrios growled in a low voice, “Send the others away. This will not be pretty.”

It was an odd request. Usually, the addition of more people added strength to a healing. Yet even with his doubts, he asked Reultan and Díon to move the dead bodies away from where they were working. Rath helped them with the closest ones, until they were far enough from Dàn and Sgrios.

When he approached Sgrios, he saw that Sgrios had removed Dàn’s torn shirt, revealing many critical wounds. And Rath saw for the first time the fatal wound. Dàn’s throat had been cut, probably in retaliation for when Sgrios arrived.

Dàn really was dead.

“Call Dàn back.” Sgrios said “It’s almost too late.”

Too late? Almost? “Dàn. Sgrios says it’s time to come back.”

No response.

Regardless of anything else, Sgrios was his elder. He did trust the wolf. Didn’t he? “Dàn? Come back now!”

A long moment passed before the feeling of Dàn stirred in his mind. “Rath? When?”

“Dàn wants to know when.”

Sgrios carefully placed his hands over Dàn, one over his throat and the other one over his chest. “Now,” he said.

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