Page 5 of The Healer and the Wolf, Part One

5

VANESSA

I finally had a day off.

When I woke, happy not to have to schlep my ass all the way to the grocery store, I ardently wished that the wolf was finally gone. He was cool, of course, and I did like looking at him out of my kitchen window as he lounged and slept, which he did a lot. Not that I could blame him. If I had a bear wound in my side, all I’d want to do was rest, too. And all of that taking it easy really seemed to be working, since the wound was nearly closed already. Part of me whispered that it was impossible, but the rest of me was pleased that the food, water, and deadnettle poultice was doing right by him.

Still, I was worried about my plants. When I’d originally helped the beast in the middle of the woods, I hadn’t expected a repeat performance. Who would? That kind of stuff simply didn’t happen in real life.

Yet they did in mine.

Unfortunately, my slow, easy-going morning could only be so leisurely before my cats started to get really insistent about being fed. None of them were starving, but one would think they were by how they wound around my feet—Goober—or yowled like they were dying—Fork. Mudpie was a certified lady, however, and waited patiently at her bowl.

I didn’t know if they sensed I’d had a bad day at work the day before, or if peace had been achieved, but there was no drama with any food bowls. Then I went through my usual pattern of changing and trekking out to my greenhouse.

I wanted to transplant some things out into the garden. If I left them in their small pots any longer, I was afraid my greenhouse would stunt their growth. Soil, peat moss, and seeds weren’t cheap, so I’d rather not waste all the energy I’d put into getting them to this point.

Except the wolf was still there.

I sighed, feeling put out. Perhaps unreasonably so. The animal deserved to be treated with all the respect that went with being an apex predator, but I also wanted back into my haven.

So, maybe I was crazy, but I put my hands on my hips and let out a sharp whistle. “You know, I’m gonna have to start charging you rent if you keep taking up my workspace.”

I didn’t really expect anything to happen. After all, it wasn’t like the wolf had a wallet it could just whip out and hand me a couple hundreds, but he tilted his massive head to the side and slowly stood.

He was definitely looking better but not fully healed. I was acutely aware that I didn’t have enough food to feed him, even with me using all of my chicken of the woods for my own meals and giving the meat to my unexpected visitor.

I should probably just call the rangers. I had no idea why I hadn’t already, since it was the smart thing to do. Especially considering I might have just pissed off the beast by whistling at it.

Instead of attacking me or showing any signs of dominance, the wolf slowly, stiffly, walked out of the greenhouse and settled on the ground beside the back steps. It seemed almost… apologetic?

Huh.

Either I was having the most convincing, long-term dream about making a giant wolf friend, or the animal had some sort of prior experience with humans.

Oh, no. What if he was from a home zoo? I’d read about people who had too much money or too much crazy and kept all sorts of exotic, wild animals in captivity on their property. Unlike a rescue, the animals rarely had the proper care, and if they ever were dumped in the wild, then they didn’t have the survival instincts to survive.

That made so much sense. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? No wonder he’d been so hurt by those bears. Normally, wolves could outrun bears, or they’d have their pack to back them up.

Did that mean he considered me his new owner?

Now, I wasn’t delusional. I knew I couldn’t afford to take on a wolf. Also, it would probably upset the ecosystem of the property. While I was sure the occasional coyote wandered through, that was a whole lot different than a wolf in the 99% percentile of being freaking massive.

Yet I still didn’t call the rangers. I didn’t have a good reason why. I just didn’t. Instead, I cautiously made my way inside and shut the door between me and the beast. Once I was sure it was secure, I watched for a few minutes just to be sure, but the wolf made no move, apparently completely settled.

Another huh.

Feeling a bit more at peace within my haven, I got back to work. It was cathartic, the ritual of gently up-potting peppers and tomatoes. I’d have to wait for when the nights were consistently warm enough to put the latter out. My peppers wouldn’t be ready for at least another month, but that was fine with me. Between a rain barrel and good insulation with hay, I could keep the greenhouse warm enough for the seedlings.

I got so into it that as I was ready to transplant a tray of brassicas outside, I jumped when I saw the wolf still laying there. Holy shit! Had I really forgotten for him, for even a moment?

That was concerning. I shouldn’t be so comfortable around a creature who could eat me quite easily.

So, I started talking to it. I had no clue where that survival instinct came from, but I rolled with it.

“I’m going to move past you and through those trees to plant these,” I said, although I did choose to go the long way around by exiting through the front door. “You could actually eat some of these, although I don’t know if they’d be to your taste. I don’t know a ton about proper wolf diets. I don’t suppose you have any pointers?”

It had to be my imagination, but when the wolf tilted his head to the side, it felt like he was listening. Wait, no. Not just listening. Understanding.

That was impossible, yet… it made me feel less lonely.

Was that stupid? Probably. But who cared? My cats were largely indoor-only, aside from their reinforced cat-tunnel leading to the greenhouse, so sometimes gardening was a bit solitary. I didn’t mind it too much, but occasionally I found myself longing to share my greenspace with someone. To tell them why it was so exciting to see seeds sprout up, and why I chose to start certain plants early in my greenhouse.

And sure, a wolf couldn’t exactly understand any of those agricultural tidbits, but still, it was nice.

When I was back inside the greenhouse with my empty tray, I heard an odd rumbling coming from outside. Was the wolf growling at me?

I looked out of the glass to see him lying on his side, eyes closed, only for the rumble to sound again. It was definitely coming from his stomach.

I chuckled—what else could I do?—then headed inside to rustle up the extra protein I’d bought at work the other day with what little spare money I had. It was mostly clearance cuts of meat, a cabbage, and a watermelon. It probably wasn’t enough protein, but it was better than nothing.

As I hauled everything outside, the wolf sat up and huffed happily. I could have sworn he was grinning at me. The wolf was cute—probably far cuter than he had any right to be—but I still approached cautiously. If he so much sneezed at me wrong, I was completely prepared to chuck the food and make a run for it.

The responsible thing to do was keep my distance, but I drew closer. And closer. I was playing with fire, but I was drawn to the wolf, like the creature had its own magnetic call.

The wolf didn’t attack me, but he did make an almost impatient sound at my approach. I set the food down in front of him, and this time, I didn’t immediately retreat. As for the wolf, he went to town immediately.

“Sorry, you must have been really hungry, huh?”

He might or might not have let out a huff as if to say duh , but he never stopped ravenously tearing apart what I had brought him. While I watched him eat, a moronic compunction came over me. A temptation I’d had ever since I’d first seen his furry head. For some reason, I couldn’t ignore it anymore, so I reached out and ever so gently patted his head.

Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, I repeated to myself as my hand sank deeper and deeper into his fur. Wow, what I’d read about their coats really wasn’t an exaggeration. It was thick, coarse, and somehow soft at the same time. It made me want to bury my face in it, but I wasn’t outright insane.

No, I was just petting a wolf that may have imprinted on me and could possibly be becoming my friend. Wild. Absolutely wild.

I was a bit rattled when I finally pulled away, but in a good way. Although my mind was scattered, I returned to my greenhouse and concentrated on the cucumbers that would be ready to go outside in three weeks instead of the voracious eating outside the door. Suddenly, I heard an ear-splitting yowl .

That was Mudpie!