Filed to story: The Healer and The Wolf PDF Free
Instead, I reached into my pack and pulled out the flare gun I kept for emergencies. Sometimes I biked back from work extremely late, and one never knew what could happen in the darkness of the night.
“Get away!” I screamed as loudly as I could with my heart downright thundering in my chest. Oh, God, was I going to show up in the news as some moron who thought they could take on multiple wild animals?
Maybe, but large predators could occasionally be chased off if you made yourself the loudest, most disconcerting prey they’d ever encountered. I fired the flare, then immediately started waving my arms as I screamed. It was… a real scene, if I was being honest, but I wasn’t sure it was enough, so I stopped waving one of my arms long enough to pull up siren sounds on YouTube.
It was probably just adrenaline and my habit of anthropomorphizing things, but I swore the bears exchanged a real look before turning around and ambling off, disappearing into the verdant green.
“Holy shit. Did that actually work?”
I couldn’t believe it, and I allowed myself a single victory cheer before remembering there was a wolf behind me. Right.
I whirled back around. The wolf had finished the water and the food, its head nestled on the ground, and its eyes closed. If not for the steady rise and fall of its side, I would have thought it was dead.
I needed to get it professional help. The whole bear thing had distracted me. Looking back at my phone, I dialed the number, but it didn’t connect.
“What the hell?”
I tried again, then saw the I had no signal. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my pack and started to head toward the road.
“You’re not allowed to die,” I called over my shoulder. I couldn’t believe I was having casual conversation with a real, actual freaking wolf.
“I put too much work into you, got it?”
Of course, it didn’t, but it made me feel better as I marched to the road. Thankfully, my bike was still there, and I sat down next to the tree as I called the number.
Explaining the situation didn’t take very long, and I was relieved when they said they were sending a couple rangers my way. Hopefully, they wouldn’t euthanize the wolf instead of helping it, but I knew better than to ask. Sometimes it was better to stay in the dark.
Twenty minutes later, two rangers pulled up in a truck, which was much faster than I had expected. I had been down to wait for an hour, which really would have ruined my plans for the evening, but it was what it was.
“Can you show us where the creature is, ma’am?” one of them asked after we’d exchanged polite greetings.
“Yeah, right this way.”
I followed the trail exactly, the bloody patches browner than anything else, but when we passed through the cluster of foliage that led to the wolf, there was nothing there.
“I swear it was here,” I said, throat tight with surprise. Surely I hadn’t imagined it all, right? Maybe I really was crazy.
No, my water bowl was still there, exactly like I left it. So, unless I was seriously hallucinating, it all had happened.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. We can see something wounded was lying here,” one of the rangers said, polite as ever. “We’ll take a look around. Why don’t you head home?”
“Y-yeah, I’ll do that,” I murmured, cheeks still pink. Had the bears circled behind me and gotten the wolf? If they had, there would be so much more blood and viscera, right?
What a strange ending to the whole thing.
I grabbed my bike and started pedaling again. Certainly not what I’d expected. It was definitely a story, though, no matter how one shook it.
Man, I wished there was someone I could tell about my adventure, but who would believe me?
VANESSA
“Mudpie, Goober, Fork, I’m home!” I called as I stepped into my small place. While it wasn’t spacious, with only one bedroom and a bathroom on the top floor, I loved it because it was mine.
Ever since I’d moved out of my aunt’s house when I was sixteen, I’d lived in rooms for rent, and even a dorm for a short time. When I’d found a rental listing for a whole house within my budget, I’d called so fast I was surprised my cheap phone hadn’t spontaneously combust. Sure, it meant I had about a forty-minute commute on my bike to the grocery store just on the lip between the ‘burbs and the country, but it was worth it. I had my own kitchen, dining room, living room, bathroom, half-bath below the stairs, and a bedroom. Would an attic or basement be nice? Sure. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I was so happy about my little shack.
“Where are my babies?” I called as I walked to the kitchen and set my bag down. I could hear my three cats racing down the stairs to meet me as soon as I came, but sometimes I liked to play up being a bit dramatic with my pseudo-children. “I slave away all day, but you don’t care, do you, you furry booties?”
Finally, the first of my cats rounded the corner, Tokyo-drifting in an impressive arc as he slid onto the tile. That was Fork, my orange-flavored cat and resident chaos goblin with a single orange eye to match the rest of him. He was definitely on kitty meth, and I had yet to find whatever mouse was supplying him, because he was a force of unpredictability and destruction on his own.
Next came Goober. Not my favorite name for a cat, and it didn’t match the giant, gray Maine Coon at all, but I’d adopted him from a rescue when he was two and thought it would be rude to change it that late in the game. He was about as chill as chill could be and came up to rub against my leg in greeting.
“Aww, I love you, too, baby. Just for that, extra soup for you.” That was a joke-I wasn’t feeding my kitties Campbells-but he purred, nonetheless.
Lastly came Mudpie, my tortoiseshell calico with all the tortie-tude one could imagine. She was a princess-no, a queen
-and she knew it. She liked to make sure everyone else knew it as well.
“Your Majesty,” I said with a bow before finally crossing to the cabinet. I got out a can of cat food and went about divvying it up. I’d give them some dry food in a couple of hours, too, but my kitties were picky enough that if I served them together, they wouldn’t eat at all.
Some would say I spoiled my cats-I did-but I didn’t care. My cats were pretty much all the family I had left, and if people thought it was strange I valued them like that, well, that was their issue, not mine.
With the cats taken care of, I went about clearing out my pack and reloading the flare gun. Then I changed out of my clothes, grabbed a cheese stick, and went out to the garden.
We weren’t in the thick of it, when the greenery went wild and I had to harvest multiple baskets every day, but it was beginning to ramp up. With any luck, I’d have enough for a full dinner along with my chicken of the woods, then my meal would be entirely free apart from the rice.
Being in the garden was probably my favorite part of the day, outside of hanging out with my cats, and I lingered as I walked through my beans and greens. It was still early enough in the season that I didn’t have to worry about anything bolting besides my spinach, which was often attitudinal depending on which variety I was using.
But I could only dawdle so long, even though I loved the life and inherent magic within the garden, and then it was back inside to do some chores and get everything I needed for the next day, since I had an eight-hour shift. I really needed to buy a new pair of work pants so I didn’t have to wash them so often, but it wasn’t in my budget at the moment. Spring and summer were usually my chance to save up since I didn’t have to run my heat, but there had been a surprise cold snap the month before that had stopped me from seeing much of that savings. Maybe next month, as long as I didn’t run my AC too much, though I only used that when sleeping.