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Maybe I did exaggerate the encounter a bit. I had spotted the silver wolf a few times since then, mostly at night and always from a safe distance.
“Maybe he was normal size,” I admitted. “Alone, too. I thought they always traveled in packs? Must be a lone wolf, an omega.”
Bryant made a noise in his throat. “Leave him be, Callista, and I’m sure he’ll do the same to you. Remember, he was here first. This is his home. You’re the intruder here.”
Now I made a disgruntled noise.
“Luka,” I said after a quiet moment.
“What?” he asked.
“Luka,” I repeated. “I named my wolf Luka.”
Bryant sent me back a sour expression. “And why would you be doing that, for the love of St. Peter?”
“He needed a name.”
He shook his head. “Another pet of yours then? And that’s a stupid name for wolf.”
“It’s a very cool name,” I protested. “Anyhow, I figured if I named him, then he belongs to me.”
“Don’t count on it,” Bryant grumbled with shaking head.
Against Bryant’s comment though, Luka had become a silent friend of cautious sorts. My first encounter with the wolf after I had unkindly shot him happened after Bryant went off hunting and I was at the creek washing my clothes. Suddenly the wolf appeared on the other side of the bank, his head halfway peering through the trees.
I was about to yelp and run for the cabin, but the animal didn’t seem very threatening as he stood there fixing his blue eyes with mine. He even looked a little...lonely. Watchful, but lonely.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him. “I shouldn’t have shot you. It wasn’t very nice. I hope you’re okay now. Anyhow, I’m really sorry.”
He tilted his head slightly, but kept his unblinking blue stare fixed with mine. Then he disappeared into the woods. Apparently, he had recovered well enough and held no hard feelings.
I had a few other encounters with the lone wolf after that. Always at a distance, but never menacing. Luka still was a wild animal, though, and a dangerous one, so I had no expectations that he would ever become an affectionate pet who would sleep at my feet in front of the fireplace. Remembering this, I always kept a respectful distance.
“Are we going back to the cave?” I asked as we rode in that direction.
I wondered if Bryant meant to reexamine the ancient symbols and writing, maybe inspect the other glyphs with the dinosaurs.
“Not this time,” Bryant said, turning towards the western hill.
We headed up this hill and down into the next valley, then made another left and headed up another rise where it plateaued in a grassy meadow dotted with trees and wild flowers.
“Let’s stop here,” he said, reining up Pat, then dismounting.
“This is nice,” I said, brushing down my skirts after dismounting myself. “Is this our final destination, or just a quick stop?”
“Our destination of sorts,” Bryant said, pulling off the Indian blanket from the back of his saddle and spreading it across the ground.
He unhooked the satchel of food and set it on the blanket, then sat down and waved me over to join him.
“Are we having a picnic then?” I asked as he parceled out the items between us.
“You might say that,” he said. “Or a peace offering. You’ve been very displeased with me these last two weeks for not allowing you to ride with me to town.”
“Can you blame me?”
“I’m sorry for it, but I’m responsible for you while you’re in my care,” he added.
“You’re not responsible for me, Bryant. Women in my time are more independent.”
