Backwater by Joan Bauer

attached to what appeared to my untrained eye to be …
    A large gray dog. But this was more than a dog …
    A deep primal shriek came from the core of my belly.
    Jo said, “Ivy, relax. This is Malachi. My wolf.”
    “
That is a carnivore!
” I leaped from the bed, tripped over the blanket. The wolf moved into fighting position, fully baring his teeth, growling, snapping the air.
    “
Don’t
,” Jo shouted at me, “
move!
Wolves don’t attack humans. That’s a myth.”
    I studied Malachi’s flesh-ripping teeth. “What if he doesn’t know that?”
    Josephine grabbed the wolf firmly with both hands on eitherside of his head and shouted, “
No!
” He put his tail between his legs and whimpered. Jo held her hand in the “stay” command and turned to me.
    “I’ve had him since he was a pup. I’ve trained him to obey, but he’s still a wild animal. Let’s leave the blood-curdling screams for the horror movies, shall we?”
    “I’m sorry.” I sat in a lump on the floor with as much authority as a broken person can. “I got bit by a huge dog when I was little.”
    “That had to be scary for you.”
    I instinctively pulled the blanket around myself, carefully hiding all body parts. I remembered the dog biting my arm, Dad kicking him, pulling him off. The dog’s owner kept saying he was tame, he’d never done that before.
    This is why I had a toy poodle. If Genghis flipped out, I’d stick him in my pocket. End of uprising.
    Jo held her hand in “stay” command; Malachi obeyed, keeping a watchful eye on me as she went to the kitchen. I watched him, too. Our eyes met. Malachi’s were shining yellow in the dark cabin. I looked away first. Not good to lose the staring contest.
    Jo took dog biscuits from a bag and threw one to Malachi, who gobbled it down without chewing.
    “He might still be hungry,” I said quietly.
    “Do you want to give him—?”
    “
No
.”
    Jo tossed him a biscuit from under her leg. It looped through the air. Malachi jumped up to catch it.
    “A trick wolf,” I said weakly. “This is a permanent relationship?”
    “You could say that.” She stroked Malachi’s head between his ears, which put him in a subdued state of wolf reverie. “I found him six years ago. A man was selling wolf pups outside of town, which is illegal. The police came to arrest him and Malachi escaped. I found him shaking in a little wet ball by my jeep. We’ve been best friends ever since.”
    I inched further away. This wolf would make pâte out of Genghis.
    “He thinks of me as the leader of his pack. Whenever I grab either side of his head, that’s the same motion the alpha wolf uses to keep the others in line. I think you’ll become friends. It takes awhile. Some relationships need a bit more effort, but they’re worth it. Maybe we should try to get some sleep.”
    “The wolf sleeps here?” I felt a great deal like Red Riding Hood.
    “Usually. He sleeps by my bed. Just don’t move suddenly.”
    I moved slowly now, so slowly. I picked up my blanket, crept with nonthreatening movements to the bed. I tripped, unfortunately—a very sudden movement, indeed—and Malachi started toward me, but Jo called him back. I tore under the covers, waved one hand peacefully in the air, wondering if all of my beloved body parts would make it until dawn.

12
    I hadn’t expected morning to be so hard.
    First, I had to go to the bathroom in a frigid outhouse, then Jo and I had to walk down to the lake with buckets, dip them through a hole chopped in the lake ice, and carry the water back to the cabin for drinking and washing. We didn’t do this the easy way. I had two buckets attached to a wooden yoke positioned around my neck. I kept crashing into trees because the weight threw me forward. I tried standing straight and listed to the left. Jo said the lake water here was pure as I pitched forward like an overburdened oxen. I thought about my ancestors reaching this forested country, finding their plot of land