“Crazy. You’re crazy,” I whispered to myself. And maybe I was a bit crazy. Maybe Himself had been right about me all along. Or maybe, just maybe, I was all out of ducks to give. My girlfriend, Mavis, had given me a happy divorce day card before I left Seattle. On it was a saying that had quickly become my mantra.

Behold, the field in which I grow my ducks. Lay thine eyes upon it and see that it is barren. Autocorrect might like it to be ducks, but we all know it wasn’t a row of quacking fowl.

I started forward again, the purse hanging at my side in one hand, flashlight in the other.

I could almost see Corb’s smug smile as he said I wasn’t going to make it through the interview.

“Maybe he’s right, maybe I’m too old for this shit.”

A snarl to my right spun me around, bringing me face to face with a wolf that was no wolf. More like a damn bear. Its eyes were level with mine, and I stood a respectable five foot eight. The bright amber eyes narrowed as they took me in, dipping to look at the purse before settling back on my face. They shone with amusement, making it very clear that this wolf was laughing at me.

That was a solid no from me, thank you very much. “Robert, take him from behind!”

Now here’s where things got weird. I mean, weirder, let’s be honest, it was already as weird as Al Yankovic.

The wolf spun as if it knew what I was saying. Of course it did. It wasn’t a wolf any more than Robert was a person.

This was my chance.

Be bold? How about jumping on the back of a big ol’ wolf bold?

I scrambled up on a tombstone that crumbled under me as I used it as a launch pad, literally throwing myself across the back of the wolf. It stiffened under me and I clamped down with my legs. It had been a long time since I’d ridden a horse, but the theory was the same in my madly scrambling mind.

Get on, clamp your thighs for all you were worth and grab the reins. I swung the purse forward and, miracle of miracles, caught the opening over the nose of the wolf. Just like a muzzle.