Micheal Stonefall's Arc

Chapter 2 of 1

The stacked timber was Michael's future. Every log he cut brought the cabin closer. But the guard dog Garret loaned him would not stay. Three nights running, she bolted toward the wolf den after dark. Michael woke each time to an empty camp and unguarded wood. He could not build if he could not sleep. Tonight he followed her to find out why. The big white dog led him through the pines, nose down. Near the den she stopped. Michael heard a small whine and pushed a branch aside. A dire wolf pup sat in the leaves, alone. Oversized paws, a soft brown coat, one white-tipped tail. It had wandered from the pack, and his dog had been guarding it every night instead of his camp. Michael understood then. If he returned the pup, the dog would stay put. He scooped up the pup and carried it toward the den. But the pup twisted and squirmed. When he set it down, it ran back after him. He tried again. Again it followed, tumbling over his boots. The white dog trotted at his heels, refusing to leave the little one. Michael cursed and gave up. He walked back to camp with both animals trailing him. That was his mistake. The pack tracked the pup's scent straight to his fire. Yellow eyes opened in the dark, all around him. Six dire wolves, low and circling. Michael's cloak lay inside the tent, too far to reach. The white dog planted herself in front of him. She growled and snapped, but she was one dog against six. A wolf lunged. Michael swung his axe and it darted back. Another closed from the side. He could not watch them all. Hoofbeats hammered the ground. A horse burst into the firelight, brown and cream patches flashing. The rider cracked a rope through the air like a whip. The wolves scattered from the noise and the horse's size. She rode a tight circle around Michael, driving them back into the trees. In seconds the eyes were gone. It was the red-haired woman who had watched him work. Gwen Keller, from the ranch. She looped her rope and looked down at him. "You keep a wolf pup in a wolf camp," she said. "That's how you die." Michael's chest heaved. "Wasn't the plan." "Plans." She swung down from the saddle. Her horse stood calm now, unbothered. She glanced at the pup, then at the shaking white dog. "The dog won't leave it. So the pack won't leave you." She said it plain, like reading weather. Michael looked at the pup pressed against his boot. Returning it had failed. Keeping it meant the wolves would come every night. He had timber cut and a cabin to raise, and now a problem that would not walk away. Gwen picked up the pup and held it to the firelight. "You can't stay here with this," she said. "Come morning, we settle it."