The Returned by Seth Patrick Page B

first caught his attention, but when he noted the length of the legs, he realized what he was looking at. Not a dog; a
wolf
.
    Fascinated, he had to get closer. A big man, Toni found it hard to move in silence. His brother Serge had always been the natural hunter, quiet, quick and deadly. Now, though, Toni had no
choice. If he wanted to see the animal better, he had to move. He cursed gently to himself as he made his awkward way, worried that every rustle of clothing or leaves would send the animal
scurrying off, but each time he stopped and looked to where the wolf had been he had a surprise.
    The animal was still there.
    It was watching him.
    It doesn’t see me as a threat
, Toni thought. And he wasn’t really. Hunting a wolf was illegal, whatever the price he could get for the pelt, or the mounted head. Or even a
full animal.
    The idea had appeal, of course: taxidermy was something he was good at, a hobby he enjoyed. He’d worked on plenty of foxes in his time, but a wolf would be a challenge. As he got closer,
in his mind he rehearsed how he would go about it.
    It stayed where it was, watching him fearlessly, almost aggressively. That wasn’t what he expected at all, and he found it unnerving to have such an animal stand its ground like the beast
of legend.
    He’d been brought up on the old superstitions surrounding the area. They were in his blood, put there by his mother and father; mainly by his mother, though. He’d only been four when
his father had died. His brother Serge, three years older, had spent much more time in the man’s company. Which, perhaps, explained how things had turned out.
    Those natural fears were bubbling up within him now, as the wolf watched him; but despite his cautiousness, Toni’s feet were bringing him closer, closer. It was a fascinating creature, and
a beautiful one.
    And then he knew he’d come too far.
    Twenty metres away, the wolf curled its lip. The growl that came from it was deep and slow. Full of intent, and unlike the growl of any dog he’d ever heard. He could feel his bowels rumble
at the noise. Instinct screamed at him to run, yet his blood seemed to chill and thicken in his legs because he found himself unable to move.
    The wolf had no such problem. It came for him.
    For an instant he was paralysed with fear, seeing the bared teeth and imagining them ripping at his throat. With shaking arms he raised his gun. Then the long years of hunting took over, the
years of Serge’s patient teaching, and he heard his dead brother’s voice in his mind:
Steady, Toni. Steady.
    He shot it as it ran, bringing it down in one. It had covered half the distance between them by the time he pulled the trigger, tumbling in a spray of leaves as its momentum carried it almost to
his feet. When it breathed its last, Toni let out a cry of both victory and relief, then suddenly thought of the trouble he could find himself in.
    He took the carcass back to the old stone cottage, the house where he had grown up. For four years after Serge’s death he and his mother had continued to live there together, Toni
suffering his mother’s acrimony. When she’d died he’d moved to the town, keeping the old house mainly as a hunting base, high above the lake and surrounded by pristine wilderness.
The home where his mother had died, where his brother had breathed his last. Rather than be buried in the town’s cemetery beside her husband, she’d wanted to be buried beside her
beloved son. Beside Serge, with a view of the valley.
    By the time Toni got to the Lake Pub to open up he’d already called a few contacts, enquiring how easy it would be to find black-market buyers for a wolf. Not hard, it turned out. Within
two hours he had a firm offer for the pelt and another for the head, mounted. Satisfied with his morning, he had a cheerful day.
    Right up until the police walked in.
    His first thought was that the buyers had really been part of a police operation, and he’d walked straight