Guardian's Joy #3 (48 page)

The wolves must have heard her swear because
now their heads swiveled from the door to her and back again as if
they weren’t sure where their attention should lie. She thought she
saw the barn door begin to open, but she clearly saw two of the
wolves turn and take several steps in her direction.

With their wild eyes glaring and sharp pointy
teeth jutting out from jaws large enough to make a snack out of her
arm, she decided they were a part of nature she could do without.
She swung the gun back to her shoulder, all thought of preserving
life forgotten, and fired.

She had no time to appreciate the cries of
the injured wolves. She was flying backward, the ground scraping
the skin from her bare rear end. Her shoulder felt broken. She
wanted to do what she always did when she was hurt; run around in
circles yelling, “Ow! Ow! Ow!” until the pain went away, but the
animals didn’t give her time. Two other wolves were coming at her
and behind them a dark upright figure seemed to waver and fold in
on itself in a strange play of firelight and shadow.

She pumped the gun, ejecting the spent shell
and loaded another into the chamber. This time, she didn’t aim. She
fired blindly. Pumped and fired again. Pumped and fired again.

A series of sharp howls behind her made her
turn. Three more wolves charged directly at her from the curving
drive in front of the house.

There wasn’t time to reload. There wasn’t
time to scream. They were on her before she could draw breath.
Elizabeth Reynolds raised her arms to cover her head and closed her
eyes against the snarling faces of death.