retrieving the final two cartons.
Amarug pulled her ballpoint from her pocket and went down the list, checking off each item.
"Any chance I could use your radio?" he asked. "I'm supposed to check in. The unit on the plane is acting up."
"It's over there." She pointed toward the equipment on the desk in her living area before continuing to check off the supplies.
"Get everything you wanted?" he asked, returning to the kitchen a few moments later.
"What's this?" She held up a bottle of antiseptic throat spray.
"Didn't have the brand you wanted. That's supposed to be better."
She stared at the label. "I'll give it a try. Chronic sore throat is killing me this time of year."
"All right then. Been a pleasure meeting you. I'll tell Eric you said hi."
She accompanied him to the door. "I didn't catch your name."
"Hiu," he called over his shoulder as he headed for the seaplane.
***
Falling snow covered the retreating wolves' footprints near the yurt. The thinning moose population had altered the predator's behavior—the struggle to survive could do that to any animal. The last kill the pack made, they ate the entire carcass, including the teeth and skull, something wolves with normal diets hardly ever did.
The pack's last kill was weeks ago.
Tonight they smelled blood and death—maybe it was a kill by another pack. The scent came from inside the yurt. They circled the structure, paced the deck, pawing at the doorway and windows, trying to find a way in to stop the stabbing hunger in their bellies. Then by sheer accident, as the animals howled
37
and scratched in a frenzy at the door, one managed to climb over another desperately trying to get at its prey. The fury of fur and flesh turned the knob just enough for the lock to slip free of the strike plate, and the door eased open.
***
The droning came from the east as the seaplane banked and glided in for a landing on the surface of the sheltered inlet. A few moments later, the front edge of the pontoons crunched up onto the beach. Hiu switched off the engine, opened the door, maneuvered along the float, and jumped onto the beach. He knew the regular supply plane was scheduled for a delivery the next day, so he had only the rest of today to clean everything up.
"Damn, it's cold." He pulled his collar around his neck, still not understanding who would be dumb enough to stick it out in this weather just to watch wolves fuck each other and eat moose. The researchers weren't going to do anything to save the animals, anyway. Just let nature take its course. Waste of time.
As he approached the yurt, Hiu noticed the open door. His first thought was that perhaps theping had failed, that her Inuit genetics had interfered with the trigger virus, and that Amarug was out and about somewhere in the woods tracking her wolf pack. In which case, he would have a lot of explaining to do, starting with why he was there for no apparent reason.
There was nothing surprising about the door being open. The last time he was there, it hadn't been locked. She'd just turned the knob and poof. He supposed there was no reason to keep it secured during the winter months. There were no visitors to the island. Virtually abandoned except for the Inuit wolf woman.
What if she had found where he disabled her radio and she somehow fixed it? But there had been no distress call. That was a good sign.
As he stepped through the doorway into the yurt, he was almost knocked over by the stench. "Shit," he said. "She's dead, no doubt about it."
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the yurt and he was about to take a step forward, he noticed the overturned table, the bloody rug, and the ripped sheets hanging off the single bed. Hiu knew immediately what he was looking at, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end—like a cat's when startled—or a wolf's ruff. A few small white splinters of bone resembling fragile toothpicks poked out of the rug's nap.
"Jesus," he
Amarug pulled her ballpoint from her pocket and went down the list, checking off each item.
"Any chance I could use your radio?" he asked. "I'm supposed to check in. The unit on the plane is acting up."
"It's over there." She pointed toward the equipment on the desk in her living area before continuing to check off the supplies.
"Get everything you wanted?" he asked, returning to the kitchen a few moments later.
"What's this?" She held up a bottle of antiseptic throat spray.
"Didn't have the brand you wanted. That's supposed to be better."
She stared at the label. "I'll give it a try. Chronic sore throat is killing me this time of year."
"All right then. Been a pleasure meeting you. I'll tell Eric you said hi."
She accompanied him to the door. "I didn't catch your name."
"Hiu," he called over his shoulder as he headed for the seaplane.
***
Falling snow covered the retreating wolves' footprints near the yurt. The thinning moose population had altered the predator's behavior—the struggle to survive could do that to any animal. The last kill the pack made, they ate the entire carcass, including the teeth and skull, something wolves with normal diets hardly ever did.
The pack's last kill was weeks ago.
Tonight they smelled blood and death—maybe it was a kill by another pack. The scent came from inside the yurt. They circled the structure, paced the deck, pawing at the doorway and windows, trying to find a way in to stop the stabbing hunger in their bellies. Then by sheer accident, as the animals howled
37
and scratched in a frenzy at the door, one managed to climb over another desperately trying to get at its prey. The fury of fur and flesh turned the knob just enough for the lock to slip free of the strike plate, and the door eased open.
***
The droning came from the east as the seaplane banked and glided in for a landing on the surface of the sheltered inlet. A few moments later, the front edge of the pontoons crunched up onto the beach. Hiu switched off the engine, opened the door, maneuvered along the float, and jumped onto the beach. He knew the regular supply plane was scheduled for a delivery the next day, so he had only the rest of today to clean everything up.
"Damn, it's cold." He pulled his collar around his neck, still not understanding who would be dumb enough to stick it out in this weather just to watch wolves fuck each other and eat moose. The researchers weren't going to do anything to save the animals, anyway. Just let nature take its course. Waste of time.
As he approached the yurt, Hiu noticed the open door. His first thought was that perhaps theping had failed, that her Inuit genetics had interfered with the trigger virus, and that Amarug was out and about somewhere in the woods tracking her wolf pack. In which case, he would have a lot of explaining to do, starting with why he was there for no apparent reason.
There was nothing surprising about the door being open. The last time he was there, it hadn't been locked. She'd just turned the knob and poof. He supposed there was no reason to keep it secured during the winter months. There were no visitors to the island. Virtually abandoned except for the Inuit wolf woman.
What if she had found where he disabled her radio and she somehow fixed it? But there had been no distress call. That was a good sign.
As he stepped through the doorway into the yurt, he was almost knocked over by the stench. "Shit," he said. "She's dead, no doubt about it."
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the yurt and he was about to take a step forward, he noticed the overturned table, the bloody rug, and the ripped sheets hanging off the single bed. Hiu knew immediately what he was looking at, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end—like a cat's when startled—or a wolf's ruff. A few small white splinters of bone resembling fragile toothpicks poked out of the rug's nap.
"Jesus," he
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