Page 33 of Raised By Wolves

The chief sounds like he actually wants me to come along. I can’t quite figure it out. Is he trying to prove he’s a nice guy? I guess by now I cantellthat he is, but that doesn’t mean I have to be nice back. I’m planning on holding that jail experience against him forever.

So that’s the first reason I’m not sticking around while he protects Kokanee Creek from drunks and vermin. The second reason is that I hate riding in a car. Being strapped inside a tiny, moving room that smells like gasoline makes me feel like I’m going to be sick.

“I better go back and check on Holo,” I say.

Does your sister take care of you, Holo?Yes! Yes, damn it, I do.

“Okay,” the chief says, nodding. “Sure.” He seems disappointed.

Sorry, Chief.

Sort of.

By the time we get back to the meadow, Holo’s sitting on the porch looking pissed. “You can’t keep running off like that, Kai,” he fumes.

“Blame Chief Greene,” I say. “He totally forced me to go.”

Since the chief‘s already pulling away, he can’t deny it.

“You could’ve left a note,” Holo points out.

“I thought you’d still be asleep.” I sit down next to my brother. The air smells like pine, the wooden steps are warm from the sun, and a trio of cedar waxwings make high-pitched whistles from a nearby tree. My mood lifts immediately. Being outside’ssomuch better than being inside.

Unless, of course, it’s the middle of the Idaho winter. In that case, you’d better have really good shelter or else you’re going to be saying goodbye to half of your toes.

Holo’s ripping stalks of prairie June grass into tiny pieces. “I’m bored,” he whines.

“Seriously? You just discovered the human world a week ago. How can you be bored already? Go turn some lights off and on.”

“I did that when I woke up. I experimented with the garbage disposal thing, too.” His eyes widen. “It grinds up everything.”

Uh-oh.Don’t ask, I think.Don’t ask.

His face turns serious. “What are you supposed to do when you don’t have to collect water to drink or make a fire to keep warm? What do you do when the food just getshandedto you?”

When someone’s really,trulytaking care of you.That’s what he means. Fine, I get it. It’s new to both of us.

I pat his bony knee and then get up and start walking toward the trees. “Come on,” I say, “let’s go not be bored.”

We push our way through the underbrush. The light gets dimmer and greener the farther we go into the woods. Our footsteps are silent. We leave no tracks behind us.

After half an hour, Holo stops and looks around in dismay. “No one’s here,” he says.

By no one, he means no wolves.

“They know where to find us if they want to,” I say sharply. I’m still mad at them for running. “Let’s keep walking.”

Holo and I go another half mile and then we come to a wide, deep creek. We pick our way along the edge until we find a bend where the water has eaten away at the bank to form an overhanging ledge of dirt and roots.

“Yes,” Holo whispers, because this is exactly what we need right now.

I lie down on the ledge, belly to ground. My fingers trail in the cold water.

Holo knows what he’s supposed to do next. He walks downstream a ways, and then he steps into the creek and starts wading in my direction.

He’s herding any fish toward the shelter of the ledge… and my waiting hands.

Shadowy trout slip away from him through the water. They slide under the stream’s bank, thinking that they’ve escaped danger.

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