Out of Alaska--The Shaman's Passage

Hiking down Craggy Jack's steep trail, Candice heard a gunshot echo between the mountains. Hunters. Tough to gauge where the shot had come from as sounds of rushing springtime water filled her ears. Bounding away on four sure paws, Oreo bolted from the trail into the spruce forest. Candice whistled to her Husky-wolf, no time for side trips this morning. She'd promised to open the gym so her students could decorate for tonight's potlatch. Old folks would shake off cabin fever, show off the hot dishes they always brought, and complain that Candice wasn't taking her role as a shaman seriously. If they only knew how the spirits called to her lonely heart. Oreo knew. Her sole companion and only solace since Buddy died last year, Oreo heard the whispers.

“Come, on, Oreo. Time for school.” 

Pausing for a moment, he turned and whined once in her direction as if to say, “Please?” before dashing away. 

She sighed. Ex-sled dog. 

Gathering speed he sprinted, a black-and-white blur of fur. Her shaman's heart raced with his. What had he scented? 

Reaching out her senses to join her companion, Candice inhaled cold morning air. Spruce laced with a doggy female scent parted for the sour smell of fear and copper. Candice closed her eyes to see through his. A steel gray animal thrashed in the brush, radiating pain, then growing still. Upon reaching her, Oreo nosed the wolf's red stained fur and howled, low and long. A second shot rang out, cutting off the sound.

Pain pierced her shoulder the moment the bullet shattered his. Candice screamed, "Oreo!" She ran to him, cursing the hunters and imploring the spirits. Blood matted Oreo's coat. On the trail behind her she heard an approaching two-stroke motor. Pressing a hand over Oreo's wound, Candice yelled, "Help!" 

The ATV sprayed dirt as it stopped. Its skinny, gray-bearded driver wore an orange vest and a rifle he couldn't handle.

"Jackson, you lunatic!"

"Oh, God. Candice, no!"  

"Can't you tell the difference between Oreo and a stray wolf?"

"I chased this one outta my own backyard, for Chrissake. They're everywhere! In town, behind the school. What's your dog doing running with them?"

Candice launched herself at Jackson, cursing and punching him, knocking her neighbor from the four-wheeler into the brush. One year here and he fancied himself a game warden. Meanwhile, supplies from her own pantry had kept this Cheechako alive through the winter. In retrospect, she wished she hadn't been so generous. Her hand strayed to the silver blade in her belt.

Panicked, Jackson rolled away and curled into a fetal ball. "I'm sorry!" he whimpered. "I'm sorry!"

Disgusted, Candice stood. "Get us to the clinic."