And way hot.
I crane my head back to look up at him. Our eyes meet. “King of the wolves.”
He glares down. Massive pines stretch up into the blue, blue sky behind him. The ever-changing cathedral ceiling. And Kiro, the high priest.
“Not like I’m going to run off and tell it, right?”
He paddles steadily, all scowly at me. It’s quiet out here. The only sounds are the wet swish of the paddle and the whisper of breezes high above.
“Did you really run with the wolves?”
“A man can’t run as fast as a wolf.”
“But you were leader of them?”
He snorts.
“It’s cool. I know why you won’t tell me—because you know I’ll get away. I’m so out of here, and you know it.”
“You won’t get away.”
“Yes, I will. That’s why you won’t tell.”
A long silence goes by. “I know what you’re doing,” he says.
“You took over a wolf pack. King of the wolves.”
“It’s not how it was.”
“Tell me how it was. Please. I so want to know.”
He glances down at me, and my reporter’s antennae zing to attention. He’s thinking about it—I can tell. Kiro very much doesn’t want me to think he was king of the wolves. He wants to set me straight.
“The professor always used the term ‘superalpha,’” he begins. “About me and the pack. He thought I took over the pack in some feat of strength, but he had it wrong. It wasn’t a feat of strength. It was bribery. Desperation.”
“Who wouldn’t be desperate? An adult would be desperate. You were eight.”
He seems to consider this. “When I was first out here, I was frightened of people, because of the threat of police.”
Which didn’t exist, but I don’t argue. “Right,” I say.
“But I was lonely. I spent a lot of time in trees, and I’d watch the wolves below. They looked like dogs to me. I’d had a dog I loved. I thought maybe the wolves could be friends with me like my dog was. So I made a plan of winning their friendship. That’s how it started.”
He dips the paddle into the velvety-looking water and pulls it back with strength and skill.
“I started by robbing campers. I’d take their meat and bring it to the wolves and scramble up a tree while they ate it. I didn’t want to lead them or take them over. I wanted them to be my friends.”
“Like with your dog back home.”
He nods.
“Did you have other friends back home?”
“I had adopted siblings. None liked me, except my little sister—for a while, anyway. She came to hate me eventually, too, but at least I wasn’t alone. Aloneandlonely is harder.”
“So you fed the wolves.”
“Yeah. I stole meat mostly. Those bars and dried things for myself, but the meat was always for the wolves. I wasn’t even thinking ahead to winter,” he says. “There was this tent that I stole, and I figured the tent would be enough. I was a kid, what did I know? Minnesota winters never seemed like a big deal. When campers started getting scarce, I’d lure and trap rabbits for something to give to the wolves. It was hard to kill those rabbits at first, but I got better. Eventually a few of the wolves would let me feed them by hand. It was such a small victory, but it was okay. My life was so simple. Just survival. These small victories. I felt…happy. I thought, ‘As long as I keep going, they’ll let me be a friend.’ I wanted…just one friend.”