Page 11 of Raised By Wolves

And Holo’s eyes go wide, because he knows those lines by heart.

I butt in. “But my brother doesn’t actually haveshoes,” I say. “The chief only gave us these dumb socks.”

Dr. Meyer acts like he can’t hear me. He smiles at my brother. “Do you know Dr. Seuss?”

Holo shakes his head. “No. I’ve never met him.”

Dr. Meyer laughs, and the chief shushes him. “What Dr. Meyer means is, have you read Dr. Seussbooks?” the chief explains.

Holo doesn’t say anything.

“Holo, can you read?”

“Yeah, the wolves taught him,” I say. “After a nice dinner of raw elk, we’d always have story time.”

Holo giggles. Then he starts ripping up the napkins from our breakfast and throwing the pieces into the air like confetti. The chief looks annoyed. Good.

“I can recite every single one of Dr. Seuss’s books,” Dr. Meyer tells us. “The rhymes help distract kids when they’re about to get their shots.”

My whole body stiffens. “Keep your needles away from us, old man.”

Dr. Meyer blinks watery blue eyes at me. “No shots today, dear. We must get to know each other better.”

“I’d rather not,” I say. “And don’t call me dear.”

The doctor sighs and turns to the chief. “Should I come back another time? Tomorrow’s full, but I’m available the day after at four p.m.”

Twodays? I can’t wait two more days to get out of here; I’ll go insane. I step toward him. “Fine, I’m ready,” I say. “You can examine me first.”

“That’s a good girl,” he says.

I snarl at him for calling me “good girl.” But I don’t flinch as he takes my blood pressure and listens to my heart and lungs. Then he looks into my ears and eyes and down my throat.

“You seem to be in excellent health,” he tells me. “The wolves must be taking very good care of you.”

He says this like it’s a joke. I growl.

He turns to Holo. “Young man, are you ready?”

My brother nods. He’s nervous. The doc wraps the cuff around Holo’s bicep and listens with his stethoscope. “Good, good,” he says quietly. He peers into his ears. “Good, good, good.”

But when he asks Holo to open his mouth, Dr. Meyer’s facegoes white. He looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. He calls the chief over to look.

“The boy’s teeth appear to have been filed into the shape offangs,” the doctor says. He puts his hand on Holo’s shoulder and asks gently, “Did you do this to yourself?”

Silence from Holo. Silence from me, too. Obviously my brother wasn’t born with razor-sharp canines. But predators need every advantage they can get.

“It looks like the boy’s got wolf teeth, doesn’t it?” the chief says.

Dr. Meyer nods. “Indeed, his canines are distinctly… canine.”

“You ever seen that before, Doc?” I ask.

He shakes his old white head.

“I guess you haven’t seen ‘everything under the sun’ then.”

CHAPTER 10

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