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"I didn't think they usually approached humans like this?" I hiss at my science girl.
"They don't," she confirms. "This is really unusual behavior."
"This fucker better not be rabid."
At that, it turns its attention back on me and narrows its eyes. Pulling its upper lip into a menacing curl like I just insulted the thing.
"Yeah? You think you understand me then?" My own voice is as lethal as the growl that comes from the animal's throat when it hears me talking to it.
"Don't even think about it, buddy. She's mine. Go find your own woman."
Still staying behind me, Finch stifles a giggle. "I don't think that's what he's after, Glen."
Both Finch and I stand perfectly still. I'm ready to split the thing open and hang its hide on my wall if it so much as hints at making a move closer to Sugar, but it just stands there, staring at me.
Then it lifts its massive head and sniffs as if it's caught a new scent. The thing wrinkles its nose and shakes its head like it's sorry for inhaling. Then, with a disgusted look in my direction, it turns and runs off.
Both Finch and I stay frozen for long seconds. Maybe in shock, maybe just waiting for a surprise attack from more of the things hiding in the shadows beyond the tree line.
"Fuck baby, you OK?"
When my muscles relax, I spin on my heel and pull Finch into my arms.
The first rays of sunlight are breaking over the horizon now, and I'm not gonna act like I'm not damn glad to see the light of day.
"Yeah, good," Finch assures me, nodding vehemently against my chest. "That was crazy."
"I told you this forest wasn't safe, Sugar. Get your clothes on, we're getting the fuck out of here."
In fifteen minutes flat, we're both dressed and packed, the coals from the fire are drowned and smothered, and I'm leading Finch down the trail that skirts that godforsaken wilderness in the bright morning light.
"How have they gone undocumented all this time?" Finch wonders, "I mean, with as many Sasquatch sightings that get reported up here, you'd think a wolf pack would have been discovered long ago."
"I don't know, Sugar, but I get a feeling they don't want to be discovered."
"They're just wolves, Glen," she tells me. "That guy didn't seem shy about approaching humans. They can't stay hidden forever."
"You gonna prove they exist just like Bigfoot, Sugar?"
Finch stops to look back up toward the stand of trees we left behind us and gives the forest a thoughtful look.
"Not me," she tells me as we make our way back onto the level road that leads back to my truck. "Someone else can have that honor. I'm done chasing monsters."
7
FINCH
Glen's place is more house than cabin, a pretty two story with log siding outside and modern drywall inside.
"It was built in the late eighties." He explains while he gives me a brief tour. "It was my parents' first house. Mom and Dad built a bigger place closer to town when we outgrew this."
"How do you outgrow a place like this?"
"Two bedrooms, five kids. You do the math." He laughs as he finishes the tour at the master suite. "And then I started raising goats, so it's a good thing they got the bigger place before then."
"You raised goats?" I try to imagine my hulking mountain man as an awkward boy, showing goats in the county fair.
Glen nods his head slowly, a grin widening across his face as he reaches into a cabinet and pulls out a few towels.
