Florence
Warm rays of sunlight touched my face, prompting my eyes to snap open. I took a second to adjust to my surroundings, thankfully noting that I had remained in wolf form throughout the tranquilizing process.
I lay on the metal bed of a truck, a small space a few metres long and a couple wide, barely enough room to fit two large wolves. Erik was beside me, calmly looking out the two small windows on the back doors. His yellow eyes appraised me, and he nodded once, a human gesture for reassurance.
At the front of the truck, a metal grate covered a small window with air holes, peeking into the driver’s compartment. Two men talked in hushed tones, though I couldn’t make out their faces without moving closer.
“God knows how they escaped, Aaron checked the fences last week. There were no breaks.” The driver’s voice was gruff, laced with annoyance. His tone held an authoritative note, identifying him as some sort of head ranger.
“The voltage would have surely knocked them cold too. It’s a mystery,” the passenger mused. He sounded much younger, perhaps in his twenties.
Their conversation fell short as the truck hurtled over a sizeable bump, and Erik and I went sprawling into each other with a thump. We held still, both sensing eyes looking in our direction.
“They’re still out.” The passenger noted. “Wouldn’t want to deal with them awake, they’re huge.”
The truck slowed, and sounds from the outside world filtered in. Mechanical clicks, muffled voices, the squeal of tyres behind us as other trucks came to a halt. We waited for a few minutes, and the passenger of the car opened his door and climbed out. He left it open, and cool air whipped through the truck. The driver cursed.
“We found them by the South border, just wandering aimlessly near the fence. Scott told us to transfer them in and release them,” the younger man from the explained. There was a shuffling sound as he scraped his boot in the snow. He must have been nervous.
“Make sure they’ve been tagged. Keep your radios on you.” An unfamiliar voice ordered. “Let them through!” The last part was a shout, and a flurry of activity sounded.
My guess was some sort of gate was being opened. The passenger entered the truck again and shut the door, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He mumbled about the intimidating ranger he’d conversed with, and the truck was on its way once more.
The trip was short from there. We went slower than before, and that made me suspect we were using unsealed roads, small trails within the National Park. The truck halted after we’d travelled along the fourth road.
Both the driver and the passenger exited the truck. There was movement behind the doors, and the sounds of other trucks pulling to a stop, with more men moving about.
A head popped up at the window, with a pair of blue eyes watching us. He saw me gaze coolly at him, and he cursed.
“They’re awake,” I recognised the rougher voice of the driver.
The lock to the doors slowly turned, and a key clicked it open. Pairs of hands fiddled with the handles loudly, before slowly prying the thick metal open.
Erik and I were alert, standing, and ready to spring out of the truck. As an animal, there was something unnerving about being in a small, confining, metal box. It made me edgy and nervous.
When there was a sufficient gap, Erik leapt out, and I followed suit. We landed in deep snow, and small flakes of the substance drifted down from the heavens. The refreshing smell of crisp, fresh air was relieving, and I quickly stretched out my muscles.
