Thor and the other wolf had gotten into some kind of tussle over a bone, yipping and snarling. Rich signaled that it was time to leave, so I turned off the water and gave Freya one last pat. She slunk off toward her favored rocky outcropping, and the fighting wolves stopped for a moment to watch her. I zipped ahead of Rich, and we were out of the gate in seconds.
As Thor and his frisky friend trotted closer to Freya, I hesitated. “Is she going to be okay?”
Rich chuckled. “Oh, sure. That’s a mild fight—they scrap around nearly every day. Freya can hold her own, trust me.”
I felt more confident as we made our way to the second enclosure. Rich instructed me to fill the watering trough again, and I appreciated the way he was letting me ease into my role.
The double gates came into view. Since I was in front, I slowed for Rich to wheel his way closer.
I glanced at the enclosure, trying to locate the trough. But my gaze settled on something else—something that was utterly disturbing.
Just inside the second gate, it was plain to see that Njord, the white pack leader, had red stains all over his beautiful coat. He was standing sentry over something—no, someone.
Someone in a neon-green vest.