Summer of the Wolves by Polly Carlson-Voiles Page A

squirmed until he quieted again beneath Nika’s shirt.
    In Pearl’s pile of giveaways in the shed, Ian found a tattered sheepskin vest. “We can let him cuddle in this. You can’t hold him twenty-four-seven. If he was with his mom, he would be down in the den curled up against her most of the time with warm pup bodies all around.” Nika put the vest beside her on the sleeping bag for now.
    Outside it was late afternoon and beginning to cool down. Ian pulled in another old sleeping bag and secured the plastic on the screens, talking the whole time. “I’m glad Pearl didn’t take down this plastic yet. We can do that in a couple of weeks, but for now, it will keep it warmer in here. For such tough animals, wolf pups are pretty fragile at first. I can bring a propane heater from the shed, if we need it.”
    Nika was lost in another world.
    After a few more adjustments to the new porch nursery, Ian left and came back with two ham and cheese sandwiches.
    â€œThis will hold us for a while,” he said. “I’ve got to make a trip into town. I’ll touch base with Dr. Dave. He’s coming out, but I’ll need to get supplies, bottles, formula, disinfectant.”
    Hands on his hips, he paused. “Nika, I feel a little uncomfortable about doing this, but are you okay if I leave you alone for a while?”
    â€œSure,” she said, almost amused. Apparently Ian didn’t know how much coping on her own she’d done in the last year and a half. Being left on her own was almost expected. Admittedly, this was a new kind of alone—way out on a wilderness island, alone with a wolf pup.
    â€œOkay,” he said, “No sense wasting time. I should be back in less than an hour and a half.”
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    Much later Nika heard two outboard motors, just as the orange light of sunset glowed through the black trees. Ian came through the door and lowered a loaded box onto the porch table. Following him was Dave Hopkins, the vet.
    The box overflowed with baby bottles, plastic containers, cans of special formula, and paper towels. Ian hardly spoke, he was concentrating so hard on organizing. After stowing some things in Pearl’s gas refrigerator and rattling at the stove, he came back with a plastic nursing bottle of formula that he tested by squirting some onto his wrist, just like on TV!
    â€œWe’ll hope he takes the bottle. If he doesn’t, we can inject some fluids, or think about a feeding tube,” Dr. Dave said. “Now let’s see the little guy.” Nika gently extracted the solid little body from under her shirt. The pup immediately made sharp little whimper sounds and paddled the air with his short legs. Dave lifted him carefully in both hands, laid him on the sheepskin, and gently felt the pup all over. “He’s seems pretty healthy. Black pelage, like his mom. And a little powerhouse, to be able to pull himself into a safe corner. The trick will be if he’ll eat and how he’ll handle the stress.”
    Nika didn’t know what pelage was. Maybe the vet just meant the pup was going to be black. Right now it was hard to say what color he was. Dark earth colored, more than anything.
    Ian turned on a goosenecked lamp that hung on the wall. Then he sat down next to Nika and picked up the pup. “I’ll give it a go,” he said, holding the pup like a baby and brushing the nipple back and forth in front of his nose and lips. The pup let out a squeal, almost a yip, and turned his head away, squirming and twisting in Ian’s hands. “Hmm. He doesn’t like that too much.” He returned the pup to the sheepskin where it nosed in the fur and calmed down.
    Nika tried it next, awkwardly holding the bottle toward his bobbing head. Again the pup turned away, pumping his blocky head up and down.
    Ian sighed. “We’ll try later. He’s had a bad, scary time of it. We’ll just let him sleep for a bit, then