Noble shook his head. “He’s one of our kind, but he’s not one of us. You, me, Harlan, and Tora…we’re a pack. We belong together. Phelan is a lone wolf. If he wanted to be a part of anything, he would have done it a long time ago.”

Argus shrugged his massive shoulders. “I still want to spend some time with him. I want to learn from him.” A pause. “I might even want to join him in the woods.”

Noble said nothing in response.

The call of the wild wasn’t just some book you studied in school, it was a very real thing among members of the pack. Even Noble had felt it from time to time, and if that were true, then Argus must be feeling the call far stronger than any of them could imagine.

What to do? thought Noble. He couldn’t fight Argus or force him to do something he didn’t want to do. Any words about why the pack needed to stick together would only come across sounding like a lecture—and a lecture from a brother who was quite possibly younger than Argus by at least a minute or two. No, there was nothing he could do except let Argus find his own way, figure things out for himself.

Tora and Harlan had backtracked and were waiting for them on the path. “Are you two coming or not?” Harlan said.

Noble turned to Argus and smiled. “Say hello to Phelan for me.”

“Sure.”

“See you at school later?” Noble had managed to make it sound like a question.

“Maybe.”

Tora took a few steps toward Noble on the path. “What’s the matter with him?”

“Nothing,” said Noble. “There’s just something he needs to do.”

“Like what?” asked Tora.

Noble ignored his sister and started for home without a word. Tora and Harlan followed, still wanting answers, but obviously willing to wait for them.

Argus remained where he was. Alone.

* * *

By the time they got home it was early morning. Ranger Brock was awake, sitting at the kitchen table, sipping hot chocolate and reading a recent edition of the Prince George Citizen.

Noble read the front-page headline; Angry Spirits Turn Logging Site Upside Down, and cracked a smile. There was a large picture of the two overturned vehicles and a smaller picture of Willie Greene set into it. Noble couldn’t see all of the cutline, but he spied the word Manchoka under Willie’s picture.

“Late night,” said the ranger.

Noble shrugged. “Angry spirits work best in the dark.” The ranger said nothing for several moments. He had likely suspected that the pack had something to do with the strange goings on at the logging site, and now those suspicions were confirmed. “True,” he said at last, “but they still need to be rested for school in the morning.”

“We know,” said Harlan from the hallway, already heading to bed.