To his astonishment, the wolf stood in the same spot as before, posture unchanged. No kill lay at its feet, and there were no signs of feeding. Adrian’s pulse quickened. Predators didn’t loiter without reason. He felt the air tighten as he passed, the wolf’s eyes flicking toward him only briefly.
That night, long after he had stitched up the farm dog and washed his hands raw, he found his thoughts circling back. A wolf anchored in place, ignoring prey and people alike—it was wrong. It felt too wrong to dismiss as a coincidence. Against his better judgment, he resolved to look again.