Summer of the Wolves by Polly Carlson-Voiles Page B

try again.”
    â€œIf he doesn’t take something by midnight,” said Dave, “I’ll leave the syringe and fluids here for injecting, to keep him hydrated.”
    Ian stood and put his hand on Nika’s shoulder. “Remember, when we first picked this guy up, I said it might not work.” He patted her shoulder.
    In her head, Nika translated,
The pup could die.
She turned away. No way, not if she could do anything about it.
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    Dr. Dave left, and night folded slowly around the island. Wind rattled the plastic on the screens. During the night Ian and Nika tried to feed the tiny pup every couple of hours. But each time he turned his head away. His moans and squeaks seemed weaker. Finally at midnight Ian filled the syringe and injected some fluids under the pup’s loose neck skin. A couple of times during the night Ian cleaned the pup’s behind with a warm washcloth.
    Finally, exhausted, they both settled down in the sleeping bags. Ian placed the pup and the sheepskin vest inside Nika’s bag. Ian seemed to sleep, but Nika never did. She lay in the dark and listened to the wind, the rattle of plastic, the groans and squeaks from the pup, and the soft snoring from Ian. Cold filtered through her sleeping bag as the night wore on, and Nika wished she had another blanket.
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    When the first lances of light pierced the trees, Nika was in a dazed and happy state. The pup needed her. She didn’t have time to think about anything else. He was struggling, not wanting to eat. But she knew she could help him. He would eat. He just would.
    Ian crawled out of his bag and shuffled around in the kitchen.
    Nika got up and went to the outhouse, closing the porch door gently both going and coming back, so it wouldn’t startle the pup.
    When she sat back down on the sleeping bag, she lifted the pup-filled sheepskin vest. He squeaked and groaned, bumping Nika with his nose.
    â€œIan!” she called.
    Ian answered from the kitchen. “Time to try again? I’ll get the formula.” He popped quickly into the porch and grabbed a sterilized bottle from the table. In a short time he returned with a nursing bottle full of warmed formula. He handed it to Nika.
    â€œTry it like this. Try squeezing out a little on your fingers, and then put them right under his nose. He might suck your finger. His sense of smell is good even though he doesn’t see or hear yet. Then rub the milky nipple by his lips.” Nika stared at Ian for a moment. Somehow it was the last thing she ever expected of this wolf-cutting, pack-toting wrinkled-pants science guy, that he would know anything about bottles and babies.
    The pup was squirming on her lap, bobbing his heavy little head and squeaking. Nika took the bottle, squeezed some formula onto her fingers, and rubbed it on his lips. His head quivered for a moment, waving back and forth. Gently, she forked one hand under him and touched the nipple to his lips. For a frantic moment he jammed his head around, then grabbed the nipple, sucking so hard at first, he squeezed the nipple shut. Finally as the formula began to flow, he sneezed, and his chubby little paws curled and uncurled. His whole body worked as he sucked down all but a few drops. Finished, the pup slumped down into her lap where he snorted, burped, and fell asleep. Neither Nika nor Ian said anything for several minutes. Nor did they move. They smiled at each other in silence.
    â€œThat’s more like it,” Ian finally said.
    Switching to teacher mode, he said, “Next essential. Maybe you noticed me doing this last night, but now that he’s eating, bathroom chores become more important. I’ll show you what to do.”
Olivia would never believe this,
Nika thought, as Ian set the sleepy pup on a diaper pad. He had brought a bowl of partially heated water and a piece of sorn-up old towel. “We want to make sure everything is used once and washed.” He paused. “Remind