Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I ignored her and followed the instructions my phone was giving me on how to get to the center. The GPS app had me turning onto a desolate dirt road that had low-hanging trees lining it. The sound of the branches scraping gently over the roof of the car was creepy, and I noticed my mother had finally looked up from her knitting.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked. Her eyes fell on a small wooden sign that said Lake Hills County Wildlife Rescue and Sanctuary. “We shouldn’t be here,” she murmured. “He doesn’t like visitors.”
“Who?” I asked. “You know the people who run this place?”
“Edna Moreland dropped a bird off here once and he threatened her. She told the cops and they came out here to question him, but he got off with just a warning. Like he did that night…”
My mother’s voice dropped off.
“What night? Who?”
But she didn’t answer me, so I focused on avoiding the ruts in the road. We reached a gate that, luckily, was open. There was another sign displaying the name of the sanctuary on the wooden fence that held the gate in place. I drove through the gate and the trees began to get thinner and thinner until we reached a large clearing. There was a large farmhouse sitting on a slight rise in the far corner of the property. Several outbuildings, along with dozens and dozens of different kinds of pens, were scattered over a large swath of the clearing. The dirt road switched over to gravel, which I followed to one of the smaller outbuildings that had yet another sign with the center’s logo and name on it. I put the car in park and glanced at my mother. Her eyes were wide and she was clutching her knitting needles.
I didn’t even bother to ask if she was coming with me. And I didn’t bother telling her I’d be right back. My mother had a tendency not to really hear me, anyway.
I held my jacket to my chest as I got out of the car. I heard the locks on the car engage right after I shut the door. I wish I’d been smart enough to grab the keys, since I wouldn’t put it past my mother to crawl over the console and drive off without me at the first sign of danger.
Maternal instincts were something my mother didn’t really have in spades.
I glanced down at the raccoon. Its eyes were closed, but it was still breathing. “Hang in there, buddy,” I murmured as I scanned the property. I could hear dogs barking and a variety of other sounds, but I didn’t see anyone. I hurried to the door of the small white building I’d parked in front of, but a quick tug confirmed my fear.
Locked.
Fuck.
I glanced around again. “Hello?” I called out.
Nothing.
I debated between trying the house and checking around some of the pens and finally decided to go with the pens, since I could hear dogs barking excitedly. I shot my mother a quick look and motioned with my head which direction I was going, but her eyes were swinging wildly around.
Looking for my would-be murderer, no doubt.
Hell, the car likely would be gone by the time I returned.
I walked around the building and followed a dirt path past a large paddock that housed a couple of horses and a donkey. Some goats and chickens were also roaming around the pasture, but when my eyes fell on an animal that most certainly didn’t belong with the little group of farm animals, I came to an abrupt stop.
A zebra.
An actual zebra.
Where the hell did you get a zebra from in Minnesota?
Remembering the poor little charge in my arms, I quickened my pace. As interesting as this place was, I didn’t have time to explore. But I still couldn’t stop myself from checking each pen I walked past.
That was why I didn’t see it until I was practically on top of it.
Not to mention the damn thing didn’t make a sound.
It was the sudden shock of white in my periphery that had me coming to a rough halt.
It was a wolf.
A fucking wolf.
A fucking wolf that wasn’t in a pen.
I swallowed hard and felt my muscles lock up tight at the sight of the animal standing less than fifteen feet from me. Its lush coat was stark white and I couldn’t help but think how that coat would look covered in my blood.
“Oh, God,” I whispered as the animal’s dark eyes settled on me and stayed there. I cuddled the raccoon closer to my chest as if that could somehow protect it from the wolf’s jaws.
Hell, who was I kidding? The animal would likely come after me first.
I took a few steps back, ever so slowly, but the wolf automatically stepped forward, so I stopped. I broke out into a cold sweat as fear engulfed me. I wanted so badly to run, but my instincts told me that was the last thing I should do. I could scream, but would anyone hear me?