PRINCE OF WOLVES By Susan Krinard

Joey shook her head, forcing her muscles to relax one by one. This had to be one of the strangest experiences of her life—but she was as sure as she was ever likely to be that the wolf would not attack. Eyes fixed on the animal, she got slowly to her feet.

With a soft yip that sounded strangely like approval, the wolf waved its plumed tail and opened its mouth in a toothy grin. As she began to move forward, the wolf kept its distance, always ahead, always turning to look back at her in encouragement. At last Joey gave up trying to figure it out and set off with a determination aided by her awareness of the fading sky. If she were lucky, she’d make it back to town by dark. Of course, she might be able to rely on the wolf for protection. Her half-hysterical giggle turned into a gasp as she caught her foot on a rock hidden in the thick grass .Absurd amusement fled, and her mouth set in a grim line.

Perhaps she’d been too casual, too certain of her own competence. This was not her world, and it might send her warnings—but it would never defeat her or scare her away. She would win. She’d set a goal, and she always did what she set out to do.

She almost didn’t notice when the wolf disappeared, just short of the light cast by the windows of Lovell’s first outlying cabins.

The warm wooden paneling of the O’Briens’ guest lodge was a welcoming sight as Joey pushed open the heavy door and entered the common room. It was deserted, but the rich smells of recent cooking hung in the air, and Joey felt her stomach rumble in response. She’d probably just missed dinner, but even after so short a time she knew Mrs O’Brien well enough to expect that a sizable portion had been set aside for her return.

The O’Briens had been attentive hosts during the past week of her stay in Lovell, guests were sparse this late in the summer, and they’d taken a great deal of trouble to make her feel welcome. In turn Joey had spent the quiet evening hours regaling them with tales of city life, much to their amusement and fascination. Lovell, B.C. , was a very long way from San Francisco, California.

As Joey shut the door behind her, Mrs O’Brien swept into the room, her arms full of clean linen. Her faded gray eyes peered over the stack as she caught sight of Joey and hurried to put the neatly folded cloth on the nearest table.

“There you are!” she exclaimed “We were wondering what happened to you.”

Joey smiled and made her way across the room to a worn easy chair, settling into it with a sigh It felt like heaven.

She looked up at Mrs O’Brien. “Nothing too exciting by local standards, I suppose,” she said, deliberately casual. “I was out on the hillside, and I managed to fall asleep. When I woke up, I had company.” Her smile turned to a wry grimace. “I know I should have been a lot more careful, but I never thought a wild wolf would come right up to me and—”

“A wolf?” Mrs O’Briens friendly voice went strange, her expression drawing tight and closed.

“Yes,” Joey affirmed, watching the older woman’s face in puzzlement. “A lone wolf, a big gray one—it just sat there and stared at me It didn’t try to attack, or threaten me in any way. After a while I tried moving, and the wolf actually seemed to… ” She broke off, embarrassed. Mrs O’Brien’s reaction was very odd, and Joey felt rather foolish. “I know it sounds pretty ridiculous, but I would almost swear the wolf was trying to lead me back to town.”

Mrs O’Brien shook her head. “That wolf,” she muttered. “That damned wolf.” For a moment she seemed lost in her own troubled thoughts, and then she pursed her lips and turned back to Joey with a frown .”You want my advice, Joey? You watch out for those wolves. Can’t trust ’em.” Still muttering and shaking her head, the older woman retrieved her linens and bustled out of the room. “I’ll go heat up your dinner. Those damned wolves…”

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