Page 11 of Cole

At the split in the trunk, she wedged herself into position and secured the camera, angling it to capture the creek and the game trail without being obvious from below. Her fingers fumbled with the straps in the cold, but she got it mounted securely. From the ground, it would be nearly invisible against the dark bark and hanging lichen.

From this height, she had a better view of the surrounding area. She paused before climbing down, scanning the forest with her binoculars. A red squirrel chattered angrily from a nearby tree, probably objecting to her presence. And there, on the far bank of the creek, were fresh tracks in the mud. Wolf, from the size and shape. The same pack she'd been documenting.

She studied the tracks through her binoculars, her trained eye taking in the details. The wolf had paused at the water's edge, probably drinking, then moved upstream. Following the same route the boot prints had taken.

Janice's stomach tightened. If the wolves were tracking those men, if they were curious about the human activity upstream, that could spell trouble. Wolves generally avoided people, but if food or territory was involved, if the mining operation was disrupting their hunting grounds or disturbing their den sites...

She shook her head, then made a mental note to check her camera footage carefully. The wolves' behavior might tell her more about what was happening upstream than any amount of human investigation could.

She climbed down even more carefully than she'd gone up, testing each foothold twice before shifting her weight. When her boots finally touched solid ground, relief washed over her so intensely that her knees went weak.

She walked down to the creek's edge, studying the wolf tracks more closely. Adult male, probably the alpha. Moving with purpose, not wandering. And there, partially obscured by his prints, was a smaller set. Female, likely his mate.

The breeding pair, traveling together. That was significant. It meant they were actively patrolling territory, checking boundaries, making sure their pack's claim to this area remained secure.

Janice pulled out her field journal and sketched the tracks, noted the location, and added observations about the mergansers and the bear scat she'd seen earlier. Everything was connected… the predators and prey, the water quality and fish populations, the human activity and wildlife response. Her job was to document those connections, to see the larger patterns that emerged from individual observations.

The four-wheeler sat where she'd left it, and she threw her leg over the seat with gratitude. The engine caught on the first try, and she headed back down the trail toward her cabin.

But those boot prints stayed with her. Someone knew where her cameras were. Someone was actively working to hide whatever was happening upstream. And now she'd moved the camera to a better position, which meant that when they came back and found it gone, they'd know she was on to them. That thought gave her pause, but she wasn’t about to move it again.

The ride back seemed longer than usual, every shadow holding potential threat. By the time her cabin came into view, she'd half-convinced herself she was being paranoid. Nobody had followed her. Nobody even knew she'd been up there.

As she parked the four-wheeler and pulled the tarp back over it, movement at the tree line caught her eye. The red fox with the white-tipped tail emerged from the underbrush, his mate visible just behind him. They paused, watching her, then continued across the clearing with the unhurried confidence of animals on familiar ground.

Janice stood still, not wanting to spook them. The pair moved past her at a distance of maybe thirty feet, close enough that she could see the details of their coats, the alert positioning of their ears, the way they moved in sync.

The male paused and looked directly at her, amber eyes meeting hers for a long moment. Then he turned and continued into the forest, his mate following, two wild creatures going about their lives. She smiled despite her anxiety about the boot prints and the tampered cameras.

Inside the cabin, she forced herself to eat a baloney sandwich assembled with shaking hands, washed down with cold water.

But before sitting down to eat, she moved to her laptop and pulled up yesterday's camera footage. She needed to see if the wolves had been captured on camera and whether they were spending time near the areas where the boot prints appeared.

She scrolled through hundreds of images, most of which showed the expected wildlife. Then, on camera twelve, she found what she was looking for.

The wolf pack, all seven members, moving through the frame in single file. The breeding pair led, with the subordinate adults following, bringing up the rear. They moved with purpose, heads up, alert, but not alarmed.

And there, in the background of one image, barely visible through the trees, were human figures. Too distant to identify, but clearly people, clearly in an area where they shouldn't be.

The wolves had passed within a hundred yards of those people. Had probably been aware of their presence and altered their route to avoid confrontation. Wolves were smart, adaptable, and generally cautious around humans.

But if those people were doing something that threatened the pack's territory, if they were disrupting the prey base or creating hazards…

Janice's hands curled into fists. She thought of the wolf pups she'd glimpsed in camera footage from early summer, tumbling over each other, learning to hunt from the adults. They'd be juveniles now, learning their place in the pack hierarchy, yet still dependent on the adults for survival.

But if something happened to the breeding pair, the pack's structure could collapse due to human interference.

She forced herself to take a breath, to step back from the emotional response. Her job was to document, not to intervene. To record what was happening and report it to the proper authorities.

But knowing that didn't make it easier. Didn't stop her from caring about the wildlife she'd worried about. Every animal she documented became real to her, became more than just data points and statistics.

Her phone buzzed, startling her out of her thoughts, and she read a text from her mother. How's my girl doing?

Janice typed back quickly. Good. Saw a fox pair this morning. Beautiful animals.

The response came almost immediately. That's my Janice. Your dad says the Hendersons' cat had kittens if you need a cuteness fix.

She smiled. Tell him I said the wild ones are pretty cute too.