[OLD - HAS BEEN REWRITTEN] Howl You Home

Chapter 1: Trespass

Camping season made itself known and brought with it truckloads of campers in dirt covered pickups and brand new RVs. There were a great deal of visitors checking in at the Ranger Station by the afternoon. Spots were carefully marked out for tents, and maps were passed from rangers to the eager hands of hikers, itching to explore the Whispering Pines. Mascot cut-outs helpfully pointed the way to the most popular trails.

Marco loved this time of year. He'd wake up early, only to go to get home late and so sore he could barely make it to bed - but it was worth it. The only thing that could have made it better, other than a raise, was the chance to lead a tour. But as it happened, Drew, one of the senior rangers, had jumped on the chance before Marco could even put a pen on the request form. But who could blame him? Tours were usually for hikers excited to snap a few pictures of the deer and other wildlife. But never before had the station been asked to guide an actual camera crew.

Marco didn't need to guess just where that tour would be heading.

Surrounding the back half of the Whispering Pines National park was the reserve. The sparkling main attraction. The reserve, so aptly named, was where they kept a few creatures. There were a few owls, a raven, and even a chubby racoon. But what the people really came to see was the wolves. Or in this case wolf pups.

Marco stopped to check over his bags one last time before securing them onto the back of the RTV.

Usually campers were never allowed inside of the actual reserve, but the station had built a specific viewing area where the wolves could come out if they wanted to. Though those wolves were far from wild - unlike their feral counterparts that had ruled the further forests. It was depressing, but whether it was a national park or not, poachers didn't seem to care. The reserve was the best hope of protection they could give.

Which was why the station was now taking care of six orphaned wolf pups, and why he was looking for what might be left of their mother.

Marco frowned as he loaded his rifle. He really hoped that the reports were wrong. The last thing he wanted to do was find her dead, or worse, suffering.

Usually if a new wolf tried to sneak into the preserve, the tall metal fence would stop it. But from the sounds of it this one had dug its way under, and had even been seen sneaking into the reserve. Not long before a poacher had done the same.

Sadly enough it wasn't unheard of.

Checking over his mental list one last time, Marco patted his pockets. Keys, check. Radio? Check. Tranquilizer? Double check.

Marco piled his heavy camping equipment, including his rifle, onto his borrowed RTV and headed towards the woods. The trailhead was less than ten miles away, but was crisscrossed by so many old logging roads and brambles, it usually took about an hour to get to his destination. It was hard to imagine anyone finding it by accident, but somehow, especially this time of year, someone always did.

Slipping on his heavy pack, followed by a camera around his neck, Marco began the hike out. It was still a little bit further from where his RTV could go, but he relished the chance to stretch his legs and breathe in the cool mountain air.

The sun was standing tall above the mountains, bathing the distant town in bright golden rays. Despite being a ranger for almost a decade, Marco still had to stop and take in the sight. Remembering his job, his hand that wasn't holding tight to the bag strap over his shoulder soon found his camera. Carefully balancing the weight on his back, he snapped a picture of the distant town. He glanced down at the screen. Perfect. It wasn't often anyone used one of the park's cameras, so he was more than happy to see such a clear picture staring back. He was starting to see the enjoyment of picture-duty. The gathering of evidence. The last time he'd remembered even seeing a glimpse of the camera was when the bear had made off with the little vending machine.

He briefly wondered if insurance had gotten back to them on that.

Marco stood there a moment more before reminding himself that this wasn't picture duty - it was a rescue. Or possibly another retrieval.

With the grim reminder, and another mile hiked, Marco already felt any possible enjoyment of the day slipping away. The backpack was heavy, and although he loved the heat, the sun was utterly baking him under his uniform. The wide hat that sat atop his short brown hair did little to help - but he was still grateful for it's valiant attempt. But what really brought down his mood was the evidence that he wasn't alone. Snapping a few pictures of the litter strewn about, Marco found himself frowning.

Instead of the vibrant greens and browns of nature, the ground was littered with trash. Plastic bottles, candy wrappers, and even fast food containers were scattered haphazardly around the trees. Which honestly was almost impressive, given their town didn't even have a fast food restaurant - let alone any sort of drive through.

The wrappers though, he was able to figure out after a closer look, were the same from the candy bars they sold at the gift shop.

"Come in, Tobias, do you copy?" Marco held his radio a little ways out as he picked up the wrappers.

"10-4, little Mark." The voice was far too happy to throw out the dreaded nickname. But given Marco was the son of the only other Marco in the station, nicknames just came with the territory. "You fighting yogi yet?"

"No, but I'm about to fight whoever's throwing these wrappers everywhere," he said. Marco's eyes drifted to the true source. Someone had left a backpack out, and a creature had clearly torn it open to get at the goods. Marco sighed. "We just started selling the gold wrapped peanut brittle bars, right?"

"Let me Check... Yup! Just started last weekend," Tobias replied. He paused. The mic cut out for a moment, probably to cover his sigh. "Why, they everywhere out there?"

"Define everywhere," Marco groused.

"Ah, gotcha." The radio clicked off for a moment."Had to check, but it looks like the only people who bought them recently were some of your favorite kind of visitors. The potheads." He huffed a laugh. "They're probably the only ones who can stomach the shi- stuff."

Marco tried not to laugh. The rangers weren't allowed to curse on Station grounds, let alone over the radio. Doing so near the Chief was as good as a sentence to latrine duty - but the radio? Marco didn't even want to think about what would happen. Given the fact Tobias was also the Chief's son, well, there would probably be grounding involved too. Adult or not.

"So I'm looking for not only a wolf but possible potheads with the munchies out here. Got it."

"Sounds about right," Tobias laughed a little. "Where you at anyways?"

Marco answered bluntly. "Gravelpoint Ridge."

Silence ticked by on the radio. Marco shoved the trash he'd managed to collect in a little disposable bag before putting them in his pack. He'd tried to stuff it all back into the backpack, but it was too ruined. Marco called over the radio again. "Tobes? You copy?"

"Sorry." Tobias paused, as if carefully choosing his words. "I just didn't know you were heading out there. Figured it'd be one of the older guys, like Drew."

Marco wasn't sure whether to bristle at the insinuation he couldn't do it, or laugh at the idea of the old man trying to hike out and pick up wrappers while tracking a wolf. "He had tour guide duty. Plus this isn't just a trail check. We got another report in."

Another call near Gravelpoint Ridge, too. The rangers always joked that it was cursed, but when it came to their wolves it almost seemed true. Something about the tall stones seemed to draw the injured wolves towards it. Maybe because of the vantage point, at least that was his theory, but Marco wasn't really sure.

Either way, whenever Gravelpoint Ridge was involved then, usually, so was a corpse.

"...Oh. Right." Tobias fell silent again as the radio gave a small crackle. Marco knew they needed new equipment, but their budget didn't leave much room. The radio he was using relied far too much on duct tape to be considered a radio anymore. Marco paused as he noticed the silence. He shook the radio just to be sure.

"You there Tobes? Come in Tobes."

"I'm here. Customer came in." As if to verify, Marco briefly heard the chime of the door as it closed in the background of their call, followed by the loud whining of children.

"Well, I'm not saying I'm glad to be out there buuuuut..." Marco trailed off with a grin. Twenty years of friendship meant he could all but feel his buddies glare and jealousy though the call.

"Sure." Tobias paused again. For once he didn't rise to meet the offer of complaining about retail work. Then again the reminder that one of their wolves might be dead was enough to dampen anyone's good mood. "Be careful out there, Marco. Let us know if this turns into another recovery."

Marco winced. He hoped it wouldn't. Looking for an injured wolf was one thing, but finding another dead and having to call it in, let alone a mother of pups...Marco hoped he wouldn't have to call a recovery over the radio for a long time. Hiking out was hard enough without having to carry back a corpse. Plus seeing their little graveyard grow, and putting up a memorial picture on their station wall, would only hurt worse.

"Yeah well..." Marco trailed off. He hoped it wasn't one of last year's pups. The new mothers always had the worst luck. "I've got this either way."

Tobias's sigh crackled over the radio. "We know. I know you aren't the superstitious type but..."

Marco fought not to roll his eyes. He wasn't, but when it came to Gravelpoint ridge, he almost was. "You're right, I'm not. Look, how about you work on selling those stuffed bears over there, and I'll work on fighting the real Yogis out here. Deal?" The two managed to share a little, slightly forced, laugh before they both signed off.

The ranger really hoped it wouldn't be another recovery.

Just as he went to continue his hike up to the ridge, mood now fully dampened, Marco found himself stilling. He thought it was the wind, but after a moment, he was certain that there were voices. Not too much further down the hill either.

He frowned. On one hand he still needed to look for the wolf. His eyes drifted towards the distant ridge. Time wasn't something either of them could spare. A distant voice laughed. But on the other hand no visitor was allowed into the preserve, and even though he doubted it, the voices could be coming from poachers. Even if they weren't, the area was hard for any hiker to traverse. People could easily get hurt.

He could either continue to try and find a wolf that was possibly already dead - or stop someone from getting hurt.

With a sigh Marco slipped off his pack and set it against the trunk of a nearby tree. He hated to admit it to himself, but the wolf was probably already long gone. The voices weren't. He was careful as he crept, making sure that his radio was secure on his hip as he slid down one of the dried clay banks that dotted the wilderness.

Marco came to a stop as his foot finally hit the damp but thankfully solid earth. He'd stopped just in time. Just two feet away from his foot flowed one of the countless brooks that flowed through the preserve.

"I'm telling you babe, she's probably fine."

"Maybe, but another one got shot or something. Aren't you worried it was her?" A woman's voice replied to the unseen man.

Marco could smell the pot from there.

"No? She's too smart for that. Plus they're looking for a mom. She's too old for that. And I mean think about it, look at how many people have gotten lost out here. Whoever shot the last one probably didn't even make it out."

"I hope the assholes dead," she added.

"Super dead." he agreed. "I know you're worried babe but she's been living out here for years. It's time you let her go."

The woman, who Marco could finally see as he peered through the thicket, looked as fed-up as he himself was feeling. The woman wore decent hiking clothes, though the beanie was sure to be warm in the current weather. Her face was stained with old tears, but her eyes shone with utter defiance. "Oh, I don't know Jeff. Maybe out of respect?" She snapped. A few strands of black hair escaped her beanie. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

The man sighed. He was less fit to be hiking as Marco finally saw, but he was fit enough to manage. "I put them back," he whined. "Can't you let it go?"

"You took flowers off a grave, Ezra!" She stomped her foot, and jutted a finger in his chest. Marco thought the man was lucky to not have that root up his ass. "What the hell was that about?"

"I just wanted to read the names! I figured if she was dead someone would have put something up for her. C'mon it was just a stupid old monument anyways."

"Yeah, and then you tried to throw the flowers aside. Not. Cool."

Marco frowned as he listened. A Grave? He quietly called over the radio that he'd found the trespassers. Tobias clicked back but said nothing. The couple continued to bicker. From the sound of it they'd found a grave alright, and the woman, Bea, was having none of his disrespect. Trespasser or not, Marco had to give her credit.

It took a moment of trying to remember what monument it was they could have come across, but eventually it came to him. There had been an old mining cave that had collapsed. Though in truth it had collapsed twice. Once during the early 1940's, and then again in the early 2000's. The first had claimed the lives of unfortunate miners. The second had claimed four cave explorers who had trespassed. Their names had been later added to the monument.

Just another reason this part of the preserve was off limits.

"Alright," Marco sighed as he pushed through the foliage. The couple paled. "Don't try and tell me you didn't see the signs, because I just heard you talking about how you literally ignored them." Everywhere around the monument was covered with no trespassing signs. Despite being caught, Bea looked more pissed at her companion, Ezra.

"Heya Mars," she greeted. It was only then that Marco remembered they'd shared a history class back in high school. Not for long though, given she'd been expelled for fighting. If he remembered right she'd recently started working at the mortuary. "You hear about what this asshole did?" Bea asked cheerily.

Ezra, momentarily too annoyed at his girlfriend to think about the ranger staring them down, cursed under his breath. It didn't take long for him to remember who he was dealing with though, as Marco picked up his radio. He was just in the middle of telling the Chief who he'd found, when Ezra started to turn.

"Don't you even think about fucking running--" But it was too late. Before Marco could finish his warning, Ezra was hauling ass back through the trees, and towards the trailhead.

The Chief barked a warning about cursing on the radio, but it was ignored.

"Ezra, you asshole, get back here!" Bea snapped so loud it might as well have been a shriek. As Marco looked at her, annoyance already darkening his features at the idea of having to run, Bea put up her hands. "Oh no, you can go chase him. I'll wait right here. And while you're at it? Tell him he's single - I'm Done!"

Marco managed an honest "good for you," before charging after Ezra.

Limbs and brambles did their best to try and block him, but Marco was fit. Short maybe given he was only around 5'5, but he was able to dodge and weave. Much better than the stoned man he pursued.

Flashes of yellow sped by the Rangers face as he gave chase. At first he'd been chasing out of annoyance - but now he could only pray to catch him in time. Faded caution tape rustled as they ran by, sending the ribbons tumbling uselessly. Years had bleached the vivid yellow into an eerie off white.

"Stop!" Marco shouted. Ezra only cursed back, refusing to slow down. "It's not safe!"

Limbs and brambles smacked against his legs and threatened to steal away his hat. Ezra wasn't much better though. His beanie had been lost some ways back.

"You're the one chasing me!" Ezra gasped. The man wasn't in the best of shape, but the adrenaline seemed to be doing its job.

"Because I said it's not safe, asshole! There's-" Marco hacked as a leaf tried to throw itself down his throat. Ezra didn't slow down. Marco could hear his jagged breaths as he barreled through the undergrowth. For some reason Ezra had decided to remove his jacket and threw it back to try and trip the ranger.

It caught uselessly on a branch.

Not much further Marco knew there was an old trail. It had been closed years before even his dad was born. Not because of the fact it was hard to hike - but the fact it couldn't be hiked at all. The rains had washed a chunk of the trail away, exposing the forested landscape to a sudden blood curdling drop. Very few people had managed to survive the fall, and Marco didn't hold out much hope for a guy who was stoned. Ezra kept running.

Marco was starting to feel the burn. "Stop!"

"No, You fucking stop! We weren't even doing anything!" Ezra threw aside another branch. It almost crashed into Marco's face.

Bullshit. Marco cursed as he scrambled his way over a boulder. The cliff was close. More caution tape hung from the limbs around them - waving like spectators in the Colosseum eager to witness the carnage. Desperately he reached for his radio. Sure the rangers wouldn't be able to help but maybe he could call for-

His hand touched his bare hip.

No.

Marco's heart, though racing, went cold. He couldn't even feel himself breathe - legs moving on their own as they tried to gain speed. Ezra was going too fast. There was no calling for backup. Ezra was still going. There was a cliff. He wouldn't make it. Ezra would die and he wouldn't be able to stop it.

Marco was about to watch someone die.

Marco wasn't sure what he yelled that finally made the man pause but he didn't care. His blood was rushing too loud in his ears for him to hear as he finally lunged forward and collided with the man - sending them both careening as his arms smacked tightly around Ezra.

Marco barely managed to roll to the left in time.

The two tumbled, hitting every bramble and bush there was on the way. They finally came to an end as something soft broke their fall. Ezra screamed. If Marco could feel any sympathy in that moment he might have cared that he felt something pop beneath him as he landed next to Ezra, still holding tight. But he couldn't. Both of them gasped, lungs burning as they cursed and fought for air.

"You broke my fucking leg!" Ezra screamed. "What the Fuck! The Fuck man!"

"You could have fucking died!" Marco shouted back. His lungs were on fire, each breath sharp and painful. His throat wasn't much better off. "There was a fucking cliff! You were about to run off a fucking cliff!"

"You broke my fucking leg..." Ezra wailed. Marco shook his head in disbelief as he finally let go.

It didn't take a doctor to know Ezra was right. His leg was pointing back towards Ezra's wailing face. Marcos' head swam as he looked over the trespasser. Ezra was clutching his leg in both hands. Broken was better than dead though.

As he continued to force his heart rate away from the risk of a heart attack, Marco caught a glimpse of something moving from the corner of his eye. It had probably just been a squirrel running away from the screeching banshee that was now Ezra. Marco would have happily ignored it, instead focusing on just getting up, but his body slowly came to a stop. He frowned. A low thumping rang in his ears. It took a moment before the ranger realized he was hearing his own heartbeat. His heart had begun to pound, and his legs, now fully frozen, refused to budge.

A chill crept up his spine.

There in the distance there was a wolf. It stood there a moment, staring at him. It took Marco a moment to realize, however, that the wolf wasn't the reason why his heart had seized. About a hundred feet away, hidden in the brambles, was a person.

The stranger waved.

Marco breathed in sharply as his eyes widened, unwillingly taking in more of the dreadful sight.

The arm that had waved at him, or at least what was left of it, stuck out haphazardly from the brambles as it waved uselessly in the wind. The other arm was stretched forward against the earth, frozen mid reach. As if the person tried to crawl towards where the pair were now- begging for help that had come far far too late.

The trespasser next to the Ranger continued to wail and complain unaware of what was next to him.

 Marco tried to look away, he wanted to look away - but something in him refused.

From the shoulder on, the damage was...extreme. What flesh was left, green and flecked with rot, was torn open and brown, not unlike a rotten apple splattered against a sidewalk. The corpse's shirt flapped in the wind, exposing an even more sickening sight. 

Most, if not all, of the internal organs were gone. Whoever this was had been devoured. The ranger could only hope it happened after death.

The face was thankfully hidden away, pressed down and into the dirt and obscured by a hat, but it brought Marco little comfort.

"Fuck..."

 Marco finally croaked.

"Holy fuck you guys almost died back there!" Bea laughed, voice trembling from watching what had happened. She slid to where they were, helpfully handing the frozen Marco his radio. Marco didn't budge. Bea frowned and gazed down at him questioningly. That same knowing look that Marco had known since high school. Bea stood taller, ready to come to his aid as she had when scaring off his old bully.

Marco could only point, and as Bea followed where he pointed, she soon echoed a curse.


Marco wasn't sure what was worse. The fact a ranger hat obscured what was left of the corpse's face, or the fact that the ruined uniform bore his father's name.