Page 67 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

I shrug. “Hopefully. The first question is if he’ll drink it at all. He’s pretty weak.” If his mother left him, she must have thought he wasn’t going to survive. Perhaps he seemed sickly to her. I briefly think of my mom and think maybe I seemed weak to her too. Angrily, I suppress the thought and continue talking. “Sometimes, wolf mothers bury their young. Actually, they only do that when they believe the pup is dead.”

“Maybe she was about to bury him but something startled her.”

“Maybe. Or the mother wanted to move to a new den.” And never came back. I add cool water to the milk before pouring it all into the bag. I tie off the top of the bag and hand it to Lou with a “Hold this for a second!”

I go to the cupboard above the side door.

This is where I keep most things Lou could use to do damage if she got her hands on them: narcotics, tools, knives, and scissors. I reach for a pair of nail scissors to cut open the pouch and turn back to Lou.

She sits transfixed, staring at the compartment behind me with bright eyes. A dark feeling crosses my heart like a shadow.

Oh, yes, Lou, now you’ve seen it. Yeah, the stuff has to be hidden somewhere.

The spark of exuberance I felt a few minutes ago is no more.

“Give me the bag,” I say calmly, but my insides are screaming. And my eyes convey something completely different: Never again! Never try to escape again!

As she hands me the milk, her fingers tremble like they did in the beginning, but I can’t stop staring at her like I’m a sniper aiming at his target.

I snip a tiny hole in the bag with the tip of the scissor blade and hold it shut. “That should do it.” I nod my head. “Do you want to feed him?” My voice is still too dark, too controlled by the waves of anger in me. I could smack myself—the bar on the good feelings is stuck.

Lou looks at me and then the pup. “May I?” she asks, uneasy.

“Why not?” My forced smile tightens my face muscles. “If you’re doing that, you can’t exactly run away, can you?” Tread lightly!

“No,” she whispers. She clumsily takes the milk bag from me, holds the hole closed, and looks at him, clueless.

“Want help?” I sit next to her and try to suppress the uneasy feelings in me: the fear Lou might leave and the anger it triggers; but they cannot be completely expelled.

The tension between us smolders like August heat over a paved road.

Lou scoots up against the wall with the wolf on her lap and gives me an anxious look.

Still scared! Obviously, considering the way you reacted again, Bren. As if her thoughts of escaping were a crime.

I remain seated on the outer edge of the bench, still close, and point to the pup. “Put the open corner to his mouth and drip the milk on his upper lip. A few drops should be enough.” At least that’s how they did it in the documentary.

Lou nods. She carefully guides the bag to the cub’s mouth and lets go of the bottom opening. As the milk dribbles out, I quickly grab the animal’s head and turn it to the side. Drop by drop, the thick milk falls onto his lips.

The young wolf almost rolls over, frantically kicking his paws into the fleece as if he wants to stimulate the flow of milk. His whimpering has given way to restless sucking and he’s far too excited, thrashing about, milk speckling his face.

I scoot closer to Lou, ignoring her tense posture. With both hands, I turn the pup onto his stomach and hold him so he doesn’t fidget. “Try…holding the bag at an angle!”

Lou does as suggested and finally the wolf catches the tip of the milk bag at exactly the right angle. There are soft smacking noises as his paws clumsily push my fingers, but he is drinking. At some point, he apparently realizes he is not dreaming and closes his eyes, but continues to suck.

“His heart’s racing,” I say softly, feeling his heartbeat pounding in my palms. “But he’s doing well.”

“Yeah.”

I look at Lou. Lost in thought, she gazes at the small bundle of life on her lap. A smile has crept onto her face and something inside me flutters like the wind and sky. All my fear and anger has suddenly vanished.

“You’re smiling for the first time,” I say softly, not knowing if she’s noticing it herself.

Her smile dies.

Wrong again, Brendan!

If only I had kept my mouth shut! I watch Lou feed the pup for a while, still holding him on his stomach.

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