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that we can check their
health stats and chip them. We would never assume that approaching
them like this was a good idea.
    I remember asking Christopher why he named
Ursa that, instead of the name the biologist gave her. He told me
when he asked her what her name was; she showed him a picture of
the constellation Ursa Major. I thought he was full of crap. The
connection between the kid and the wolf was hard to ignore, but
communicating … that was just impossible.
    Now, watching him with the pack I understand,
I finally understand … at some point Christopher stopped being
solely human and became something more … something primal; he is
wild.
    I feel a pit form in my stomach as the
comprehension filters into my head, “He’s not in danger from them …
he’s as dangerous as them.”
    This time my whispered words bring the
attention I was hoping to avoid. The Alpha turns his head and
focuses his hard, golden eyes on me standing on the outskirts of
their meadow. Responding to the Alpha’s shift in attention,
Christopher looks over his shoulder and shakes his head. He reaches
down and says something to the wolf as he strokes the massive
animal’s neck. I understand right away that he is soothing the
creature, explaining that I am of no danger to the pack.
Christopher then raises his hand open-faced toward me, warning me
to stay where I am, and not to move.
    As he walks over to me with Lune at his side,
the pack closes rank around Ursa. They lick her coat, whine, and
gently paw at her sides. Then the pack splits and lets the Alpha
walk in closer to her. He puts his muzzle on top of hers and rubs
the side of his face up to the top of her head. That gesture must
be the signal to the rest of the pack that it is time to leave. As
they move away, into the trees on the other side of the meadow,
Ursa walks laboriously over to join Lune and Christopher, who are
now standing right in front of me.
    As I look into Christopher’s eyes, I feel
dumbfounded … this friendship was never about me protecting him
from the big bad world; he allowed this friendship in spite of his
version of the big bad world.
    I suddenly feel very foolish for seeing him
as a kid; he understands more about the dangers around us than even
the most experienced survivalist. He and I never had a conspiracy
protecting Ursa. Christopher and nature have an agreement that
humans aren’t supposed to understand. I suddenly feel very small
and insignificant standing next to his relationship with the
wolves. Bitterly, I have to laugh at my mistaken opinion that
Christopher and Ursa should be performing as the starring acts at
the local circus.
    Christopher looks at me with a smirk growing
on his face. He shakes his head and simply says as he walks past,
“You give me too much credit. I really do think I’d be at home in a
freak show.”
    Silently I turn, and follow the
self-proclaimed freak, and his sideshow animals, out of the forest
and back to the cabin.
     

Chapter 3
Truth

    Watching Ursa closely as we trudge our way
back out of the trees, I notice just how labored her movements have
become. Wolves, unlike Huskies, tend to keep their tails down,
showing that they are always cautious, always prepared. It isn’t
until we reach the cabin that I notice the blood staining the long
white fur of her tail, and know it is time to settle her down in
the whelping pen.
    As we walk in, Christopher acknowledges that
I have laid out newspapers and towels in the caged area that he’s
built for the birth. He looks down at Ursa, and in one smooth
movement, they walk over to the pen where he unlocks one section
and lets her in.
    I go over to the stove and stoke the fire.
Seeing that we need more wood, I go outside to the shed to collect
a bundle, giving Ursa and Christopher the chance to settle
down.
    Upon returning, I am surprised, although I
shouldn’t be, to find Christopher in the pen curled around Ursa’s
back, while Lune lies at her head licking her face.
    Once, I