Page 2 of Posing for the Artist Wolf

Another. And a third.

“Come on, you stupid logs,” I muttered. “Work with me here.”

I blew gently on the embers, willing them to life. A tendril of smoke curled upward, teasing me with the promise of warmth. Then nothing. The wood stubbornly refused to catch.

“Screw this.”

I rocked back on my heels and dug my phone out of my pocket. Eight percent battery life had dwindled to six.

Outside, the snow fell harder. Inside, the temperature steadily dropped.

If I turned my head just right, I could catch the warm glow of Tall Pines Diner beckoning through the window.

Decision made, I bundled up. Coat, hat, boots. I grabbed my keys, hesitating at the door. The thought of trudging through the storm made my bones ache, but the promise of hot coffee and greasy fries won out over pride.

The harsh wind bit at my exposed skin as I stepped out onto the porch. I flicked on the flashlight and stomped my way into the yard.

A pair of green eyes gleamed in the tree line, watching me.

“Hey, buddy.” My voice barely carried over the howling gale. “C’mere.”

The dog’s tail wagged once, hesitant. His ears pricked forward, but he made no move to approach.

Dammit. I bit my lip, weighing my options. Leave the poor thing to fend for itself? Or...

“I must be losing it.”

Back inside, I made a beeline for the kitchen. The fridge light illuminated a sorry state of affairs—wilted lettuce, dubious leftovers, and... bingo. I grabbed the bag of shredded cheese. There wouldn’t exactly be any guilty pleasure late-night nachos when the power remained stubbornly inoperable.

Back on the porch, I waved the bag. “Look what I’ve got. Yummy cheese.”

The dog cocked his head, those bright green eyes fixed on me. For a moment, I swore I saw amusement in that canine gaze.

“Don’t judge me,” I muttered. “I’m trying here.”

I tossed a handful of shreds onto the snow. The wind caught most of it, scattering orange confetti across the yard. Fan-freaking-tastic.

The dog huffed, a sound almost like laughter, then turned and trotted toward the tree line.

“Hey, wait!”

Before I could think better of it, I stalked after him. The wind whipped at my face, the snow crunching beneath my boots as I stumbled into the forest. I tugged my scarf higher and swiped the hair from my face.

“When I catch you,” I muttered, “you’re getting a bath. And a flea dip. Then probably all of my good cheese, you little shit.”

The beam cut through the darkness, catching glints off the dog’s eyes as he looked back at me. As I drew closer, he darted deeper into the woods.

“Seriously?” I muttered, pushing through low-hanging branches. Snow showered down, finding its way into the gap between my collar and neck. I shivered, gritting my teeth. “You better appreciate this, Fido.”

Silence. Just the howl of wind creaking through snow-covered branches.

I plowed forward, snow crunching under my boots. My breath misted in front of me, my heart thumping in my chest as I struggled against the wind. The trees seemed to close in, dark shadows dancing at the edges of the light.

The beam of my flashlight caught glimmers of paw prints, rapidly filling with fresh powder. I trudged onward, following the vanishing trail deeper into the woods.

“Here, boy!” My voice barely carried. “Free food, warm bed. Can’t beat that offer!”

No playful bark answered. No wagging tail emerged from the gloom. Just an endless sea of white.

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