The Legend of Safehaven. R. A. Comunale M.D.

their heads and muzzles.

      “I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” Galen quipped, and Edison and Nancy let out sighs of relief in agreement.

      Freddie was rolling on the ground, rough-housing with one of the pups, when he sat up suddenly and yelled, “Yeah, I guess it’s old man Caddler who’s in the dog house now!”

      The others laughed at the attempted pun, and the wolf-dogs yipped and barked even louder.

      “Carmelita, would you hand me the serving tray?”

      Nancy had just taken a fresh batch of brownies from the oven, and the aroma was beginning to circulate through the house. She knew everyone would soon be gravitating to the living room for their share of the treats. Carmelita retrieved the tray from its place leaning on the countertop against the refrigerator.

      “Tia Nancy, do you think the wolves really understand what we did? They seem so tame, so attached to us now.”

      Nancy stacked the brownies on the tray and glanced at Carmelita.

      Is this how my daughter would have been?

      “I don’t know for sure, Carmelita, but the adult animals seem to have bonded with us. Only time will tell if the next generation follows their lead.”

      The weather turned mountain-cold again. Gusts of the north wind swept the remaining leaves from their branches, presaging the first snow of the season. Galen’s arthritic right knee, which had been worsening since the summer, drove him to spend more time in the living room in front of the fireplace. Books and diagrams and photos crowded the coffee table, where he went over and over his notes about the wolf pack. The social structure fit no known pattern of prior observations by researchers in the field. Zeus, the alpha, was actually teaching his heir apparent. Mercury and Athena were instructing the younger grey male and red-brown female. It seemed like an ordained succession was being established, but it would take another wolf generation or two to see if the pattern held true.

      Galen looked up as Tonio entered the room and peered over his shoulder at the pages of graphs and notes in his lap.

      “What’s this about, Tio?”

      Galen motioned him to sit, and he explained his conclusions to his eager protégé.

      “Tio Eddie, can I come in?”

      Freddie had heard the cutting and grinding noises coming from Edison’s wood shop.

      “Sure, Freddie. Here, take a look at this.”

      “What is it, Tio?”

      “It’s a gift, a gift for the mountain. Something Tio Galen said to Mr. Caddler that day struck me as appropriate. Think the old goat will like it?”

      He held up a three-foot-long wooden sign. On it, in large letters deeply engraved into the heavy solid oak wood, he had fashioned one word: SAFEHAVEN.

      They sat on their haunches, facing the house in the distance and the two-legged pack inside it that was of them and not of them. Their eyes reflected the amber, winter-solstice moonlight in luminescent green.

      The three in front kept ears and muzzles on full alert. The alpha male, a full one-hundred pounds, let out a solitary howl of unwavering tone. The male next to him, not as large but sleeker and more streamlined, joined in, their canine bodies taking in large gasping breaths to produce the contrapuntal vibrations of their vocal chords. The female, smaller but even more alert, added the second harmonic. The younger members of the pack sat in quiet respect, observing the ways that would govern their future lives and those of their pups.

      They were the Moonsingers of the mountain.