Free Wolves, Boys and Other Things That Might Kill Me by Kristen Chandler

settles on the valley like a giant sigh of relief after three months of RV rush hour. But this morning the road is still lined with cars. We stop at the biggest cluster.
    “Doggone it. I hope we’re not too late.” Eloise parks her truck on the lip of the road. For most people it’s not even breakfast time yet, but campers and trucks jam the tiny pull-out. Eloise gathers her gear and goes to greet a circle of parkas. She is chatty and generous with each cluster of observers while she navigates a prime position and sets up her scope. I watch with jealousy as she both gets what she wants and ingratiates herself with everyone in her wake.
    Virgil and I throw on our jackets and strap on our equipment. If he knew how much time I spent picking out this cornflower-blue-water-resistant-non-pilling fleece to wear, I’d die. My dad humored me with a new T-shirt, too. Luckily my dad doesn’t have as big of a mouth as Mrs. Baby.
    We wonder into the crowd. Two women with matching tan stocking caps and green snowsuits talk in hushed tones with Eloise. It’s thirty degrees. That’s practically swimsuit weather for locals.
    Virgil whispers, “They’re up here from Florida.”
    I whisper back, “They look like zucchinis.”
    Virgil shoots me a reproving look and starts setting up his stuff.
    The first zucchini says, “She’s beating her up again.”
    “I don’t know how much more of this that little sweetie can stand.”
    “Her sister is a true leader. She gets the job done.”
    “Well, she beats the daylight out of everyone, that’s for sure. But can’t keep her man happy.”
    “Oh, he’s just as much to blame for the way things are and you know it.”
    I step in close to Virgil so my back is to the zucchinis. “Who are they talking about?”
    Virgil whispers, “Druids.”
    “They’re talking about wolves?”
    Eloise’s voice carries over the buzzing crowd. “Just below the tree line.”
    Everyone quiets down and goes to their scopes, including Virgil. He focuses and takes a dozen shots. I try to find movement with my binoculars, but all I see are trees and brush. I feel like a tourist.
    “What’s going on?”
    Virgil steps back and pulls me in front of him, so I can see into his camera scope. I try to look more interested in what’s in front of me than what’s behind me. He says, “Forty-Two’s hating it. Can you see her?”
    I sort through the colors and shapes of the mountain but draw a blank. “I’m blind,” I say.
    I feel Virgil’s breath on my neck. “She’s in front of that juniper, just below the big rock.”
    My eyes focus in, and I see a dark shadow that turns into a head after I stare at it for a second. Then I see the hunched line of her back.
    One of the zucchinis says, “I saw her limping right before you got here, Eloise. She’s been through the ringer. Do you think she’ll stay?”
    Eloise nods and speaks softly to the woman. “It will be unusual if she sticks around with so much abuse. Especially if Forty killed her pups and lover boy doesn’t seem to change his ways any time soon.”
    “But she’s been through so much already.”
    “You can never tell with a situation like this one. To be honest, this pack is just another reason why I tell people you can generalize about wolf behavior, but you can’t make rules about it.”
    I turn to Virgil. “Her sister killed her pups?”
    “No one actually saw Forty-Two’s pups. But last year Forty-Two dug a den and then Forty, the über alpha, showed up and let Forty-Two have it. Not the usual harassment, but a real beating. Forty-Two didn’t even fight back. Afterward, Forty-Two abandoned the den. The theory goes that the pups were killed as part of the punishment.”
    “That’s horrible,” I say.
    “Forty’s famous for her brutality. Even for wolves, Forty’s brutal. I saw her rip a coyote to shreds a few weeks ago just for wandering a hundred yards from a kill. I think she enjoys her work.”
    “But why did Forty-Two even