with what? She hadn't noticed guns in the cabin.
"I don't. I buy meat from the
Indians."
"Indians Up here? I thought
that was—"
At that moment Aphrodite whirled to
snarl at Persephone, who'd been sidling up to Zeus. The weaker dog cringed,
then slunk forward with a whined apology. Aphrodite gave her a quick glance,
then haughtily looked away. A canine rebuke, given, received. Incident now
over.
"Amazing!" Dana lost
interest in hearing about Indians. "They behave just like my captive
pairs. How much wolf is in these dogs?"
"About sixty percent."
"They're so big." A
hearty diet accounted for some of the size, but even the runt would be
considered big for a wolf.
"There's Great Dane in them. I
was looking for both size and docility. Fenris is a bit of a throwback, but he
has so much heart l kept him."
Aphrodite took one more piece of
meat. It contained a bone which she carried to a corner of the pen, then lay
down and began gnawing. Odin came up and gave Dana's hand a nudge. She pulled
out another scrap of meat and put it on her palm. The precaution wasn't
necessary. Unlike his white leader, Odin nibbled delicately.
"Looks like the whole pack's
honored you with their acceptance, Dana."
Dana smiled, warmed by the team's
approval, then rocked back to ease her thigh muscles. Thunder clapped in the
distance. She looked up to see scudding anvil-shaped clouds. Morgan followed
her gaze.
"Won't be long now," he
said. "It's probably already snowing in the west."
Dana simply scratched Odin's ruff,
determined to enjoy the rest of her brief freedom without fretting over the
weather. A few minutes passed, and she noticed the thunder was still rumbling.
"What's that?"
Morgan shrugged. "Echoes,
maybe?"
Not sure she agreed, Dana continued
listening. The rumbles grew closer and louder. Then she saw a dark swirl
against the darker sky. The shape rose above the canyon wall like a giant
dragonfly, its rotor spinning and spewing sound.
"No. No, it isn't!" she
passed the meat to Morgan, shot to her feet, and pointed at the finlike tail
clearing the rim. "It's a helicopter! Can't you see it, Morgan?"
No, oh, no, no, no! Morgan screamed
inside.
His attempt to reach his feet was
seriously hampered by Odin's eagerness to reach the food. In the few seconds it
took to settle the dog down, the helicopter grew to more than a swirl. Its nose
pointed westward, away from them, and Morgan prayed the occupants didn't look
back, because Dana had already backed out of the pen. Now she was trying her
best to run in the snowshoes, frantically waving her arms at the ascending
chopper.
Morgan saw her lips move, but her
shouts were lost in the roar of engine and whirling blades. His heart leapt to
his throat. Any second, the copter might dip, turn east. And if it did, there
was no way they could miss seeing Dana.
He felt the familiar prickle; bones
shifted, oh, so subtly. His initial dread changed to terror. He must stop her.
To have her so close, then for her to be taken away . . . But first he must
control his fear.. .
Pushing Odin aside, he dumped out
the remaining meat and raced from the pen, slamming the gate behind him.
Already his boots and snowshoes were biting at his widening feet. His joints
creaked and groaned. He tore off his footwear, then raced after Dana, who was
virtually skating through the blowing snow, waving wildly, moving ever nearer
to the iced-over edge of the canyon.
"Dana!" Morgan cried.
"Don't!"
She couldn't hear him, and her eyes
remained fixed on the retreating aircraft. Suddenly, the helicopter dipped and
turned a circle. She turned back to him, talking, but he heard no sound.
The alchemization accelerated, his
pain became almost unbearable. He could barely see her features now. Soon his
vision would haze over completely. He'd fall to the ground. Hair would cover
his face, his splaying hands and feet. With agonizing effort, he forced the
process back and staggered on toward Dana.
Then, with a skier's grace,
"I don't. I buy meat from the
Indians."
"Indians Up here? I thought
that was—"
At that moment Aphrodite whirled to
snarl at Persephone, who'd been sidling up to Zeus. The weaker dog cringed,
then slunk forward with a whined apology. Aphrodite gave her a quick glance,
then haughtily looked away. A canine rebuke, given, received. Incident now
over.
"Amazing!" Dana lost
interest in hearing about Indians. "They behave just like my captive
pairs. How much wolf is in these dogs?"
"About sixty percent."
"They're so big." A
hearty diet accounted for some of the size, but even the runt would be
considered big for a wolf.
"There's Great Dane in them. I
was looking for both size and docility. Fenris is a bit of a throwback, but he
has so much heart l kept him."
Aphrodite took one more piece of
meat. It contained a bone which she carried to a corner of the pen, then lay
down and began gnawing. Odin came up and gave Dana's hand a nudge. She pulled
out another scrap of meat and put it on her palm. The precaution wasn't
necessary. Unlike his white leader, Odin nibbled delicately.
"Looks like the whole pack's
honored you with their acceptance, Dana."
Dana smiled, warmed by the team's
approval, then rocked back to ease her thigh muscles. Thunder clapped in the
distance. She looked up to see scudding anvil-shaped clouds. Morgan followed
her gaze.
"Won't be long now," he
said. "It's probably already snowing in the west."
Dana simply scratched Odin's ruff,
determined to enjoy the rest of her brief freedom without fretting over the
weather. A few minutes passed, and she noticed the thunder was still rumbling.
"What's that?"
Morgan shrugged. "Echoes,
maybe?"
Not sure she agreed, Dana continued
listening. The rumbles grew closer and louder. Then she saw a dark swirl
against the darker sky. The shape rose above the canyon wall like a giant
dragonfly, its rotor spinning and spewing sound.
"No. No, it isn't!" she
passed the meat to Morgan, shot to her feet, and pointed at the finlike tail
clearing the rim. "It's a helicopter! Can't you see it, Morgan?"
No, oh, no, no, no! Morgan screamed
inside.
His attempt to reach his feet was
seriously hampered by Odin's eagerness to reach the food. In the few seconds it
took to settle the dog down, the helicopter grew to more than a swirl. Its nose
pointed westward, away from them, and Morgan prayed the occupants didn't look
back, because Dana had already backed out of the pen. Now she was trying her
best to run in the snowshoes, frantically waving her arms at the ascending
chopper.
Morgan saw her lips move, but her
shouts were lost in the roar of engine and whirling blades. His heart leapt to
his throat. Any second, the copter might dip, turn east. And if it did, there
was no way they could miss seeing Dana.
He felt the familiar prickle; bones
shifted, oh, so subtly. His initial dread changed to terror. He must stop her.
To have her so close, then for her to be taken away . . . But first he must
control his fear.. .
Pushing Odin aside, he dumped out
the remaining meat and raced from the pen, slamming the gate behind him.
Already his boots and snowshoes were biting at his widening feet. His joints
creaked and groaned. He tore off his footwear, then raced after Dana, who was
virtually skating through the blowing snow, waving wildly, moving ever nearer
to the iced-over edge of the canyon.
"Dana!" Morgan cried.
"Don't!"
She couldn't hear him, and her eyes
remained fixed on the retreating aircraft. Suddenly, the helicopter dipped and
turned a circle. She turned back to him, talking, but he heard no sound.
The alchemization accelerated, his
pain became almost unbearable. He could barely see her features now. Soon his
vision would haze over completely. He'd fall to the ground. Hair would cover
his face, his splaying hands and feet. With agonizing effort, he forced the
process back and staggered on toward Dana.
Then, with a skier's grace,
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