The ranger and Phyllis instinctively pulled back, while Noble, Tora, and Harlan partially changed their form to something between human and werewolf. If need be, at least they would be ready to defend the ranger and his wife.

But instead of lunging forward on the attack, the werewolf moved closer to the pen. Just a few feet from the gate, it began making hand gestures of its own.

“I think he’s trying to communicate,” squealed Tora.

Sure enough, the werewolf pointed to the wolf inside the pen.

“The wolf,” said Phyllis.

Then he put an open hand over his chest, as Ranger Brock had done.

“And me, myself,” said Harlan.

The werewolf clasped his hands tightly together.

“Are one?” said Noble.

“How about, belong together?” offered the ranger.

Again the werewolf put an open hand against his chest.

“I,” said Phyllis.

A single finger pointed to the wolves in the forest behind him.

“And my pack,” said Noble.

He then turned halfway toward the forest and pointed northward, as if he were pointing at something miles and miles away.

“Are going far away from here,” Harlan guessed.

“Will be heading over the mountain,” suggested the ranger.

Noble laughed. “Are getting the heck out of Redstone.”

The werewolf indicated himself and his pack once more, then shook his head and crossed one hand over the other, like a referee calling off a play. Finally, he pointed straight down at the ground.

“I don’t get it,” said Tora.

“I think he’s saying he doesn’t belong here,” said the ranger, “or that we won’t be seeing him around here anymore.”

He stepped over to the pen, slid the key into the lock, and opened the gate. Without a moment’s hesitation, the wolf scampered out of the pen and joined the werewolf in the yard. The werewolf gave the wolf a long heartfelt hug. It was becoming more human with each passing day.

A second later, the wolf left the werewolf’s side and went to join the other wolves still in the forest. They all rushed the wolf—rubbing, jumping, and licking—to welcome her back into the pack.

Alone once more, the werewolf rose up on its hind legs and stepped forward.

Again, the ranger tensed, unsure about what might happen.

The werewolf stopped directly in front of him, was still for a moment, then slowly outstretched its right hand.

“He wants to shake your hand,” said Tora. “How does he know to do that?”

Ranger Brock thought about it, then said, “He must have seen me shake Doctor Katz’s hand the other day and figured out it’s a human custom.”

“He learns fast,” said Harlan.

“Well,” said Phyllis. “Don’t just stand there. Shake his hand.”