Ernie sniffed and shook his head. “No, I’ll give him a proper burial in the morning. I should be okay to deal with it by then.”

Garrett said, “Take care. I’ll be in touch.” He watched Ernie step into the cabin and close the door behind him, then he followed the sergeant around the house to where his 4 × 4 was parked.

“Do you think he’ll stay out of the forest?” Garrett asked the sergeant.

“He gave me his word.”

“Yeah, but do you think it means anything?”

The sergeant shrugged. “Who knows?”

* * *

After the sergeant and the ranger drove away, Ernie spent some time in front of the stove. He was tired, but there was no way he’d be getting any sleep. His mind was too bent on revenge. Those beasts in the forest had killed his best friend and at least one of them was going to pay for it. If he could get more, then even better.

But he’d promised the sergeant he’d stay out of the forest, so hunting the animals down tonight was out of the question. If nothing else, Ernie Ilson was a man of his word.

But what if?…

What if he just waited for the beasts to return? What if he sat outside on the back porch until one of them returned for Jaeger’s body? If the animals came to him, it wouldn’t be hunting, would it? All he’d be doing is protecting his property.

That was it. That’s what he’d do.

And so he went back to the closet for more clothes and put on enough layers so he could wait outside for hours without getting cold.

He was about to head for the back door when he stopped and turned. Reaching down, he picked up the bottle of whiskey he’d been drinking and took that with him…to help with the cold.

Finally outside, he eased back into one of the Muskoka chairs he kept on the porch behind the cabin, took a swig from the bottle, and lay the shotgun across his lap.

“Here, wolf.” he whispered, under his breath. “I got something for ya and it ain’t goin’ to hurt a bit.”

With that, a slight smile crept across Ernie’s face.

It wouldn’t hurt because dead wolves feel no pain.

* * *

The pack ran carefully through the forest, wary of what they might find between the trees. They were heedful not to overtake Harlan as he followed the scent of wolves. Harlan was crouched down low, sniffing as he went. Every once in a while, he would stop, raise his head, and look around, then it was nose to the ground and forward, step-by-step.

All at once, Harlan stopped.

The rest of the pack stopped behind him, waiting in silence and wondering what he had found.