Winter Study

A

When the meal was finished, Ridley and Adam thanked Jonah for a fine di

She offered to do the dishes, which she thought was mighty big of her, but was met with uncomprehending and none-too-friendly stares. Precisely what custom dictated who a chief bottle washer was, she didn’t know, but, wanting to help, to thank them for the meal, to ingratiate herself – or whatever it was she felt a need to do – she insisted.

Confused rather than appreciative, they abandoned her to it. The only one who remained to help or keep her company was Dr. Huff.

“Do you want to wash or rinse, Kathy?”

“Katherine. Rinse.” That speech brought the sum total of words the woman had uttered since the toilet seat introduction to about twelve. She made Robin seem like a motormouth.

As the steam rose and the pile of dirty dishes diminished, to make conversation A

“I haven’t got it quite yet,” Katherine admitted. Moisture blanked her glasses, and A

“They must be becoming habituated to humans,” A

They had progressed to the flatware, washed last, and dumped into a long-handled deep-fat fryer set in the rinse water for that purpose – another rule, and one A

“God’s nightgown.”

The archaic oath made A

“What is it?” A

Katherine pointed at the small window over the sink. Her hand was shaking so bad tiny bubbles from the dish soap floated free and rose on the warm air. When A

Silver light from a three-quarter moon caught ice crystals on the snow and rime on pine needles and tree branches. In the superdried air, the light was so pure the world beyond the glass glowed with it, and A

Hands dripping, Katherine turned and ran to the common room.

A

Delineated by moonlight and snow, seven wolves trotted across the compound. Heads low, they came single file, long legs and big paws carrying them effortlessly over the patchy snow. A

Then they were gone, the last tail swallowed up by the shaggy line of birch trunks at the edge of the clearing.

“Wow!” A

“They’ve never done this. Never. Not even close,” Ridley said.

“Something’s got them stirred up.” He’d crowded so close behind A

The others began to move and talk. Katherine remained immobile. Her face had the same rapt look that had scared A

“I didn’t think they came around people,” Bob said.

“They don’t,” Ridley replied. “Three times in the last fifty years, we’ve found wolf tracks in the housing area. Not a pack, tracks of a single wolf. Every time, there was a dead wolf in the carpentry shop, either dissected or about to be. They stay away from us and we stay away from them. We try and keep it that way. In wolf/tourist run-ins, wolves always come out the losers. The island is too small to destroy or transport a wolf without damaging the population and screwing up the study. Something stirred them up,” he repeated.

“The windigo,” Robin said. It sounded as if she wanted to believe in a windigo more than moose meat. People loved their ghosts, demons, fairies and angels. A

“I thought windigos were strict humanitarians,” she said. “Don’t they just eat people?”

“Everybody loves junk food,” Jonah said.

“They smell the blood of the moose,” Bob said. “Their sense of smell is acute.”

“Exactly.” Ridley’s word was agreeable but the tone was not. The lead researcher evidently didn’t like an axman from Homeland Security educating him on wolf traits. “They can smell over a thousand times more efficiently than humans. And they can smell humans. We must reek like a paper mill to them. There is any number of ways the pack could get to the moose. Why come so near us?”

“Do you think the other packs will come?” Robin asked.

“They shouldn’t.” Ridley moved to the piano bench and began pulling on high-waisted woolen ski pants, snapping the suspenders over his shoulders.

“If they do, it could get ugly,” Adam said, and Ridley shot him a look, a widening of the eyes and downturn of the lips that A

“Pack wars,” Robin said somberly. A

Pack wars were not uncommon, but there was sufficient territory for East, Middle and Chippewa Harbor packs so they didn’t clash too often. When they did, it was hit-and-run, not the full-scale slaughter humans had perfected.

Ridley took mukluks from the drying rack beside the woodstove and sat down again to put them on. The anesthetizing influence of a wolf sighting wearing off, it dawned on the group what he was doing.

As one, they scrambled for their boots and coats. Cursed with new gear, A