Argus watched the man take a few steps, then thought about the redwood forests in the fall—the smell of the earth and the color of the sunlight as it punched its way through the trees. And before he knew it, the bell rang, ending the day’s torture session. Argus was one of the first to his feet and the first out the door.

“Don’t forget the questions on page 112 for tomorrow,” Mr. Surujpaul said, but by then Argus was halfway to his locker.

* * *

Just before last period that day, Argus saw a notice pinned up on the bulletin board outside Coach Quinn’s phys ed office:

THE REDSTONE WARRIORS
CROSS-COUNTRY RUNNING TEAM
WILL BE HOLDING TRYOUTS
AFTER SCHOOL WEDNESDAY
IN THE GYM

He read it several times, thinking that cross-country running might be something he’d be good at.

“Hey, Argus,” said Noble, appearing by Argus’s side. “What’s going on?”

Argus gestured at the notice. “Coach Quinn just put that up. What do you think?”

Noble took a moment to read the notice. “Forget about it,” he said.

“Why?”

“You know that the ranger has told us many times he doesn’t want us doing that sort of stuff …” Noble looked left and right to see if anyone was listening, “because of who and what we are.”

Argus kissed his teeth. “That was for football. He didn’t want me joining the team because he was afraid the physical contact would, you know…get me angry and bring on the change. He was afraid I might hurt somebody. This,” he said, tapping a finger against the notice, “this is just running. We go running all the time.”

Noble was unconvinced. “You will ask him first,” he said. “Get his permission.”

“Yeah, of course,” Argus answered, dismissing Noble’s concerns with a wave of his hand. “The ranger has to let me run. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?”

Chapter 6

A half hour after dinner, Phyllis poked her head into the boys’ room and said, “We’re leaving now, if you want to come with us.”

“I’ll be right there,” said Noble.

Ranger Brock was going into Redstone to speak to people angry that Ernie Ilson’s rabbits and dog had been killed by a wolf. They wanted revenge for the deaths—they wanted the blood of the wolf and its pack splashed all over the forest floor. They wanted to know, at the very least, that the government—meaning Ranger Brock and British Columbia’s Ministry of the Environment, Sergeant Martin and the RCMP, Mayor Magill and the city of Redstone—had a response to this threat.

Since the ranger couldn’t promise the wolf would be killed, or the city would be safe, Noble wouldn’t dare miss what was sure to be a very interesting meeting, so he’d finished all of his homework before supper.

“Me, too,” said Argus, putting on his shoes.