Page 18 of Raised By Wolves

“Pretty, isn’t it?” the chief says, letting us out of the back.

It’s even better than pretty. It’s actually beautiful. Peaceful. But I’m not going to say so. I’m still pissed about jail, and about him not telling us anything unless he feels like it. “Your fire’s not hot enough,” I say.

The chief goes, “Huh?”

“Your smoke,” I say. “Look at how brown it is. Either your wood’s too wet or you made a really sad, dumb fire this morning.”

His jaw works a little, like he’s stopping himself from snapping at me, but one glance toward the chimney tells him I’m right.

I climb up on a tree stump and look all around. I need to get my bearings. Need to figure out where we are versus where Holo and I come from. But the trees block most of my view. I spin around, looking for any land feature I recognize. In the distance I see the craggy top of a mountain, and nearby, the spine of a ridge dotted with lodgepoles. “I’ll bet you had a forest fire here about twenty years ago,” I say.

“What makes you say that?”

“A lodgepole pine will grow just about anywhere, but it really loves growing in burned dirt. And those trees look like they’re a little bit older than I am.”

Now the chief looks more impressed than annoyed. “You’reright. A forest fire’s heat releases lodgepole seeds from their cones,” he says. “Supposedly it was a lightning strike. But I always thought it was a Hardy.”

“What’s a Hardy?” Holo asks.

“Not what,who. The Hardys are a local family,” the chief says. His expression darkens. “But between you and me, if I could run them out of town—make ’emnotlocal—I would. They’re nothing but trouble.”

“Is the kid who was in jail with us a Hardy?” I ask. He had kind of an outlaw vibe.

“No, Waylon’s a lead foot, but he’s a good kid. Wouldn’t hurt a fly unless he ran into it with his motorcycle.”

“Why can’t you chase the Hardys out of your territory?” Holo asks. “It’s what a wolf would do.”

“It doesn’t work that way, kid,” the chief says. “I watch over Kokanee Creek, but it’s notmyterritory. And people pretty much get to live where they choose.”

Holo uproots a green plant with white flowers. “You could try poisoning them,” he says. He holds the plant out to the chief, who looks alarmed.

“He’s kidding,” I say quickly. “But that’s meadow death camas, and you have a lot of it growing around here.”

“Shoot,” the chief says. “I thought those were wild onions.”

“Wild onions don’t cause vomiting, diarrhea, and death,” I say.

“Good thing I never got around to eatin’ ’em,” the chief says.

Holo throws the plant into the woods. “You really should know what’s growing in your yard,” he scolds.

The chief folds his arms across his chest. “Maybe you can teach me.”

And Holo, who’s always been the smallest and weakest of our pack, suddenly sees a chance to be something bigger. He smiles so brightly that his whole face lights up. “Maybe,” he says. “Just maybe I could.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see a flicker of movement. I spin around, focusing all my attention on a single spot in the underbrush. A branch sways back and forth, like something’s just pushed it.

I squint. Then I see the flash of an ear. A pair of yellow eyes. My heart starts thudding in my chest.

“Holy shit,” the chief whispers. “Who’s he?”

I swallow down my dread. “Not he,she. That wolf is a female,” I say. I wave my arms and shout. “Go! Go!”

She melts into the shadows. She’s safe—as long as she doesn’t get any closer.

Holo and I may have come into the world of humans, but we don’t want our family following us.

CHAPTER 15

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