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Chapter Two
“C’mon, girl.” Wildlife biologist Dr. Brandy Wendon wiggled cubes of meat at the opening of the cage. The door was wide open and a beautiful female wolf was pressed to the back of it, wary golden eyes watching Brandy’s every move. “You can trust me, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.”
Since the opening of Silver Moon Wolf Sanctuary seven years ago, Brandy had collected a pack of fifteen wolves which she cared for, observed, and studied with an undying fascination. The sanctuary sat on six hundred acres of remote woods in Canville, Vermont where the wolves—most in residence due to injury or illness—could roam and live in a natural yet monitored setting.
Brandy loved every single day. How many people could say that about their work? Not many, and she knew it. This life of hers was a dream.
Well, the working with wolves part anyway. Other areas of her life didn’t always go as planned, but she’d learned to roll with the punches.
“Mom!” Ten-year old Dylan came barreling into the kennel, which meant it was about 3:30 in the afternoon. Where did the time go each day? Hadn’t she just put him on the school bus?
“Over here.” She put the meat pieces into a container and stood so Dylan could find her among the rows of kennels. This main facility on the sanctuary housed a veterinary services clinic, the kennels, a classroom, a library Brandy’s mother, Meredith, a retired librarian, oversaw, a research lab, and a viewing room with a big window out into the woods so children on field trips to the sanctuary could catch a glimpse of these gorgeous wolves.
“Guess what?” Dylan dropped his backpack and weaved his way over to her.
As Brandy watched the boy, her heart squeezed in her chest the way it always did when she remembered her twin sister, Diane—the one who’d actually given birth to Dylan. The one who had died due to complications during labor. The one who had dreamed up this sanctuary idea with Brandy when they were in college. The one who should be running the place with her now.
“What, baby?” Brandy ruffled Dylan’s blond hair when he reached her. The boy knew Brandy was actually his aunt, but she was also the only mother he’d ever known and the titleMomhad come naturally. Though she missed her twin sister terribly, she loved having Dylan in her life, loved caring for him along with her wolves. Without him and her mother, living in the log cabin house on the sanctuary’s property would be quiet… and lonely.
“You owe me a new comic book because I got an A+ on my science report!” The smile on Dylan’s face lit up the room. “You were right. A project on animal communication totally got Mrs. Gruper’s attention.”
“I am right now and then, and there’s a new comic book already on your desk in your bedroom.”
Dylan pumped a fist in the air, his smile growing even more luminous. The kidatecomic books in his spare time and would do anything to get new ones—even put extra effort into a science report.
Brandy dropped a kiss on Dylan’s forehead and warmed when the boy threw his arms around her waist for a hug. At ten, he’d probably be putting the brakes on hugging her pretty soon so she relished every embrace, just in case. She had no other source of hugs at the moment. She’d tried to find a source a few times, but her luck in the man department was… non-existent. Either she was terrible at sniffing out jerks or the world was filled with jerks. Her research into that matter was inconclusive.
Dylan turned in her arms to face the kennel and the wolf still cowering at the back of it, her ears flat, her eyes darting around the room. “How is Nymph?”
“We should have named her Stubborn.” Brandy sighed. “She doesn’t even want to come out for this meat.”
“Maybe she wants barbecue sauce on it.” Dylan giggled as Brandy poked him in the ribs.
“Wise guy.” She closed Nymph’s kennel, planning to try again in about an hour. This particular wolf had come to her from Michigan with a serious intestinal infection. Brandy and her partner at the sanctuary, veterinarian Dr. Parker Daniels—one of the few non-jerk men she’d met—had taken care of that issue, but getting this gorgeous lady to eat was still a challenge. If they could get her to do that, she’d be able to actually return to the wild at some point. Most of the wolves had come to Brandy with injuries or conditions too serious to allow reintroduction, but Nymph didn’t fall into that category.
She fell into the anxious-as-hell category.
“Where’s Gram?” Dylan asked.
“Most likely waiting for you in the library with some delicious snack.” Brandy gestured to the clinic wall adjacent to the sanctuary’s library where Meredith held story hours on a regular basis, did wolf-themed crafts with school groups, and assisted wildlife biology college majors hunting for research materials.
“I hope the snack is brownies.” Dylan grabbed his backpack.
“Is it ever brownies?”
Dylan shook his head. “Probably carrot sticks or apple slices.”
Meredith was famous for trying to get them all to eat healthier. Not that the Wendons made a habit of binging on junk food, but both Dylan and Brandy—and Diane—had an intense love of sweets.
“Gram just wants you to grow up to be strong and fit.” Brandy pointed down to Dylan’s sneaker which was untied per usual.
He kneeled to tie it. “So I can run around the woods with these wolves all day.”
“Exactly.” She loved that Dylan had such an interest in wolves. She had no doubt he’d keep the sanctuary going when she no longer could. Diane would be so proud of him.
Dylan stood and walked to the door that led to the library next door. “See you later, Mom.”
She waved, but he was already through the door in search of his grandmother. Brandy turned back to Nymph. “Okay, you get another forty-five minutes to hang out and then this meat is getting inside you, lady.” She wagged a finger at the petite brown wolf then grabbed the bin containing more meat pieces. This girl may not be interested, but fourteen other wolves at the sanctuary would jump at the chance to feed.
