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Dragging oneself out of an always-inadequate down bag, hoarfrost on the tent ceiling shattering into a thousand needles of ice stinging one’s cheeks, struck her as a pastime slightly more attractive than wearing a hair shirt, yet still not as much fun as self-flagellation. The only upside she could think of was that, since it was a work assignment, she would not be expected to have fun. “Fun” froze at about fifty-two degrees Fahrenheit.
With the front sitting on the island, Jonah couldn’t fly. Everything had to be packed in. A wolf trap, including transmitter and eight feet of kinkless chain, weighed ten pounds. A
BECAUSE OF KATHERINE, they set a slow pace. Freed from the fear she would shame herself by huffing and gasping and throwing herself facedown, crying “I can’t go on” – all of which would have been distinct possibilities had she been trying to keep up with Robin – A
Ridley had mapped out five miles of trail west of Lake Siskiwit for the trapline. East and Chippewa both claimed the mapped section of the island as part of their territory. Several pack interactions had been recorded in the vicinity.
Ridley and Jonah had had the rare luck to watch one unfold. The photo sequence Ridley captured remained some of the study’s most compelling footage. For some reason, a female had been drummed out of East pack. Ridley and Jonah watched the lupine drama play out, with all the pathos of Troilus and Cressida, beneath the supercub’s wings.
East pack had pursued the female till they cornered her on a finger of land jutting into Siskiwit Bay. Too many to fight, she’d taken to the water. The pack paced her along the shore, twice driving her back in when she tried to reach land. Finally she no longer had the strength to swim and moved to land through the teeth of her former pack mates. They didn’t kill her immediately but dogged her, tearing at her back, neck and flanks as she tried to escape. More than once, Jonah and Ridley believed her dead, but then she would force herself up, repel her attackers and run again. Finally the pack, as if tiring of the game – or as a mob stoning a fallen woman will suddenly need a kill – surrounded and savaged her, then fled as if the law was on their tails.
After two more passes, Jonah and Ridley were sure this time she was dead. They were turning for home when they saw a lone male from East pack return. He nosed and pawed the downed female, and, after a while, she staggered to her feet.
On flights over the following days, they saw two bloody beds. The two wolves not only survived but started the island’s third pack: Chippewa Harbor pack.
Five years later, the winter of 2005, East pack caught that same female away from her Chippewa pack mates and killed her. The wolves remembered. A
Watching the photographs click up on Ridley’s computer screen, A
Two miles up the trail, Robin turned the lead position over to A
The third time he led them off trail, she suggested he drop back. She added, “And make sure no one falls behind,” to keep the machinery of the team oiled. She then set a pace that would challenge Katherine – they had a lot of miles to cover before the light went south – but, she hoped, would not exhaust her. Katherine was from a sedentary background and carrying a pack too heavy for her. A
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Since the alternative was to not backpack, A
THEY HAD PASSED South Lake Desor and reached the halfway point between Windigo and Malone Bay when A
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Tempting as it was to let the instrument of her torture topple to the ground, she lowered it as carefully as she could, then stood with a groan. Apparently her grace period had grown significantly shorter since last she’d carried an overloaded pack.
Robin followed suit and leaned her pack against A