Rare - Briar Prescott Page 0,33

don’t have to deal with her.”

“So?”

“You’re a vet.”

“I specialize in wild animals. Excuse me for wanting the best for that beast and bringing in a specialist.”

Noah patted Carl’s arm. “You keep telling that to yourself, big guy.”

“I’ll have you know healthy, wild wolves do not kill people. There have been about two confirmed deaths in North America since sometime around the year 1900. Do you know how many people have been killed by cows in the last five years? The answer, by the way, is one hundred and eight, which also means that my feelings of slight apprehension are completely valid.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go.”

Alex blinked as Noah passed him and opened the passenger door. “You’re coming with us?”

“That a problem?”

“I’m relatively sure we can handle it. Shouldn’t you stay here and be useful?”

Noah shrugged, undeterred by Alex’s less than warm welcome.

“I’d say I’m actually more valuable than you,” he said. “How much do you know about wolves?”

“I obviously have encyclopedic knowledge,” Alex said with a mighty roll of his eyes.

“Can you tell the difference between a coyote and a wolf?”

“I’ve got Google. I think I can manage.”

“You’ll manage even better with me there,” Noah said tightly as he pulled the passenger door shut. Alex stood there for a couple of seconds before he climbed into his seat. Carl eyed them both with a frown but didn’t comment as he got in the driver seat of the truck, and then they were off.

The GPS directed them to an address about an hour and a half away from the center. All of them stayed quiet on the drive over.

“Is that a sheep farm?” Alex asked as he squinted at the herds of white, fluffy animals moving around the pasture. He snorted. “That’s unfortunate.”

Carl and Noah didn’t seem to find anything funny about it. They got out of the van and headed toward the large metal gates that had a white sign, which read Misty River Farm. They went through the gates, following Carl, and due to his size, Alex felt like he was a kid on a school trip. A Day at a Farm, it would be called.

Alex could hear loud voices coming from somewhere close by. It sounded like a party and not a scene where an injured animal could be found.

They turned a corner and there, in front of a large gray shed, stood a cluster of people. Some of them were gesticulating wildly, the others just observing. There were about ten of them.

One of the men noticed them approach and stepped away from the circle.

“Renner,” he called out in greeting as he hurried toward them.

“Mort.” He and Carl shook hands when the man reached them. He was in his forties, skinny and fidgety and sort of out of place with his khakis and shirt and tie. He kept glancing at Carl, running his hands nervously through his thinning hair

“Veronica called me about the wolves. Are we sure it’s not coyotes but actual gray wolves?” Carl asked, suspicion and disbelief warring in his tone.

The other man scratched the back of his head, looking more and more uncomfortable. “Definitely a wolf,” he finally said. “Just one, though.” The people in the background continued their chatter. “Confirmed by the vet and myself.”

Carl raised his brows. “That’s…” And then, Carl smiled. An actual smile. Almost ear to ear. Alex didn’t even know Carl’s lips could move in that direction.

“That’s fucking fantastic.” Carl clapped the other guy on the back, and Alex winced because Carl’s big paws were most likely going to leave bruises on the other man’s skin, especially considering the enthusiastic nature of the pats.

“Where is it?” Carl asked, whipping his head left and right. Mort looked even more nervous.

“There seemed to have been a slight miscommunication,” he said.

“What kind of a miscommunication?” Carl asked. All his elation from before had been swiftly eliminated.

Just then, a man took a step to the side, leaving an opening in the circle, and Alex saw.

A large heavy body, covered in thick, rough fur. The wolf would have looked like a dog, but it was much bigger than any dog Alex had ever seen. His body was probably longer than Alex’s standing up. Its fur was a grayish-brown color with spots of white and yellow. It had pointy ears, like triangles.

And it was so very dead.

The magnificent animal had its eyes open, staring at nothing, all spark of life gone. Alex couldn’t say he’d ever been particularly interested in wolves, or wildlife, in