“Look,” Kirsten says sharply. “I understand what you did. I understand why you need to tell Dakota before she forgodsake opens up the freezer and finds him without warning. But you’re sounding like someone who’s going to be shot at dawn. Give me some help here. What’s the real problem?”

“The real problem—the real problem is that it’s a desecration. A desecration of the body of someone my sister loves.” He pauses, glancing at her face to see if she is following him at all.

She is not, not entirely, but she says, “Go on.”

“It’s how we Lakota deal with our dead,” he says. “You’ve seen pictures, maybe in movies, of our traditional burial platforms?”

“Like scaffolds? Out in the open?”

“Like that. It’s illegal to bury humans that way, now, because of health regulations. At least, it was.” A ghost of a smile touches his face, so like his sister’s except for the dark eyes. “But traditional people have always seemed to find a way to get around the law. You’d be surprised how many empty coffins you’d find if you dug up a cemetery on one of the old reservations.”

“But doesn’t that leave the body unprotected?”

Tacoma nods. “The whole idea is to leave the body unprotected. To give it back to the earth and the creatures it sustains.”

“Just as—“

“Just as other creatures have sustained our lives by their deaths. The body goes back to mitakuye oyasin—to all our relations.”

Kirsten tries to imagine leaving Flandry’s body in the street where he lay bleeding in the street, or even in the open where crows and weasels and other scavengers could tear at it. She cannot. Because what I did for him was right—for me For someone whose beliefs and customs were different, giving a beloved friend to a hole in the earth would seem as wrong as leaving his body in the open would to her. Just as painful. Aloud she says, “You have to tell her.”

“I have to tell her. But first I have to find her.”

“I’ll help. Let me get my jacket, and—“

She is not halfway to her feet when the front door slams open against the wall of the entryway. Boots echo sharply on the floorboards. Dakota Rivers stands in the archway that opens into the room, her hair loose about her face, her chest heaving. Her blue eyes are as cold as the dark between the stars. “There you are,” she says in a voice colder still. “Goddam you , what have you done?”

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

DAKOTA ABRUPTLY AWAKENS to the sound of a low, but purposeful, growl, and the feel of a tense body all but vibrating along her left side. Her eyes quickly open to see Shannon plastered against the far wall next to the door, eyes wide as saucers, face white as cream.

“Relax,” Koda orders in a calm, even tone. “She’s not strong enough to come after you, and if you stay that way much longer, you’re gonna pass out.”

The Vet Tech’s dark, staring gaze darts, unseeing, around the room as if seeking an escape that is literally one step away.

“I mean it, Shannon. Calm down. Now.”

Instinctively responding to Dakota’s tone, Shannon relaxes, slumping against the wall and breathing deeply, as if she’s just come out of a trance.

“Good,” Dakota replied, rolling up to a seated position in time to cushion the fall of the she-wolf, whose energy has been completely drained by her protective display. Stroking the wolf’s head, she cradles the slowly awakening pup in her free hand, smiling slightly as tiny teeth and a curled pink tongue are displayed in a puppy-sized yawn. “Do me a favor and mix up some formula for this one. I made up some mash for the others, it’s in the refrigerator. Just take it out to warm and I’ll feed them when I’m done here.”

Nodding, Shannon keeps to the walls as she circles the room toward the counter where the formula ingredients are kept. Moments later, she approaches the tall woman, bottle in hand. Her posture is deliberately relaxed, but Dakota can smell the fear radiating from her in waves. The she-wolf scents it as well, and growls low in her throat, causing Shannon to drop the bottle into Dakota’s lap and back away, hands raised. “I—I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “My brother was attacked by a wolf when we were kids. It’d been shot and just left there to die. He just wanted to help, but…. I—I don’t think I’ve ever gotten past that.”

Nodding in understanding, Koda curls the pup next to his mother while supporting his head. He latches on as soon as the nipple enters his mouth, sucking vigorously and making little squeaking noises that cause Shannon to smile past her fear.

“G’wan out and see to the rest of our patients,” Koda says without looking up from her task “I’ll take care of things here.”

“Alright,” Shannon answers softly, somewhat embarrassed at her fearful display. “I’ll…um…be just down the hall if you need me.”

Without waiting for an answer, she darts outside and into the hall, leaning back against the cool wall with a definite sense of relief. Even so, the embarrassment still suffuses her face with a rosy glow. She’s old and honest enough to admit to the healthy crush she has on the tall, beautiful vet. The thought of doing something to upset her is….

“Alright,” she says, pushing herself away from the wall. “There are still a lot of animals that need care, Shannon, so start doing what they’re not paying you for and forget about this mess.”

*

Two hours later, all of the animals in the isolation ward have been examined, fed, watered, and placed back within their cleaned kennels. The she-wolf is sleeping soundly, her pup curled tight against her. Rising up from the kennel, Koda goes to the sink and washes her hands, then pulls off the gown she’s used to care for the animals in her charge. With one last look around, assuring herself that all is fine, she steps from the room, allowing the door to hiss softly closed behind her. She comes upon Shannon in the hallway as the young tech is attempting to convince a large, furry dog of indeterminate parentage that he really does want to go into the exam room and get his ears looked at.

The dog takes one look at Koda coming up behind Shannon and obediently walks into the room, leaving the young tech stumbling and almost falling into Dakota’s arms.

“Oh!” She jumps forward, spinning to look at the woman behind her, and immediately colors. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

Koda steadies her with a touch to her arm, then passes, taking a brief look into the exam room, where the dog stands wagging his tail at her. “The Iso ward is buttoned up. Check in on them every fifteen minutes or so, and if there’s anything amiss, get ahold of Tacoma or Manny. I won’t be gone long.”

“Ok,” Shannon replies. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Good.” With a final smile, Koda continues her trek down the well-lit hallway and slips through the door.

The air is warm and smells of a spring that has finally come as she opens the final door and steps outside. She takes in a deep breath to cleanse her sinuses of the smell of bleach and alcohol and sickness, then lets it out a bit at a time, feeling some of the tension wash away from her body. With an added energy to her step, she crosses the short walk, and rounds the battered “company truck”, pulling open the back doors and peering inside. A cased hunting rifle, a .22 and perfect for her needs, sits near the front, the black leather of its case gleaming mellowly in the sunlight streaming through the truck’s bed. She lays a hand on it, then draws it away as a thought enters her mind. With a short nod, she leaves the rifle where it lies and backs out, slamming the doors securely shut.

Breaking into a light jog that warms and soothes her muscles, she heads back to the house. The house is, as expected, empty, and she enters quickly and quietly, as is her custom. In deference to the beauty of the day, most of the windows are open. The slight breeze flutters the curtains and brings with it the freshness of the outside air, tingeing the faint lingering smell of woodsmoke with the scent of newly budding life. A fist lightly clenches her heart, then releases as she thinks of her own beloved home, shuttered and abandoned these long, bleak months.

On the heels of that thought, quiet unbidden, comes a mental picture of Kirsten stepping into that space for the first time. An unconscious smile bows her lips as she plays the image through in her mind. And on the heels of that image comes another; the memory—so very vivid—of the kiss she shared with Kirsten in the very spot where she now stands. She can feel her pulse quicken as little sparks skitter down her limbs and belly, coiling together to form a gentle warmth that she is coming more and more to associate with the young scientist.

A moment later, she shakes her head, dispelling her thoughts, though not the feelings accompanying them, and walks into a spare room where most of her gear is stored. There, sitting behind her largest knapsack is a finely detailed leather case. Lifting it, she unhooks the rawhide loops from the bone buttons and slips out her bow. It is a beautiful piece, made for her by her uncle, Manny’s father, and a master craftsman. Made from the wood of the Osage Orange tree, it is strong, limber, and Traditional. Her quiver and arrows, these steel-tipped, lay next to the bowcase, and she picks up the quiver and slips it over her shoulder so that it rests easily, familiarly, against her back.

Bow in hand, she exits the house as quickly and as quietly as she had entered, leaving nothing to mark her passing behind.

*

The guards open the gate for her without complaint, and she slips into the freedom of open spaces, taking in the beauty of the day and letting the sun work its customary magic on her as she breaks into a trot, headed for the high crest ahead, where she’d found the she-wolf nights before.