Winter Howl (Sanctuary) Read Free Page A

pushed the door opener on her visor, and the gates swung outward. In spite of the appearance of the gate, her land did not have heavy security. Just a standard, primitive barbed wire fence spanning its circumference. It didn’t need to be too protected.
    They passed through the gates, and as the iron squeaked to a close, the paved street gave way to a greyish dirt road.
    Over hundreds of acres, with a mix of sugar maples, aspens, basswood, pines, birch, and scattered with hemlock, there was nothing but state-protected land and private ownership. Aside from the odd call by geographically distant relatives, there wasn’t much to remind her that there were other places in the world. A few planes passed by overhead, trucks came by to bring her supplies, the mail came every day, and a few people visited the sanctuary, but mostly her world was just hers. It was like Josh had said, as infuriating as it was for him to be right—it was easy for her to pretend that her land was all there was in the universe.
    On the side of the dirt road—Renee guessed she could call it a very long driveway—there was a wake of turkey vultures, and Renee slowed down to get a look at what they were picking at. Britt shifted to watch the movement of the birds as well as they shuffled away from the truck, although they did not shuffle far, persistent creatures that they were. Renee breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was just a hare. Just as this was a little too far north for turkey vultures in this season, it was a little south for hares, and she did not see them very often. The dead animal was big enough to confuse her only for a moment. There was something about the animal’s face, though. It was gruesome to see that the mouth looked oddly human, more gruesome than the belly, which had been gutted and strewn a bit on the dirt in a harsh orange-red, and not entirely by the turkey vultures. Renee was not too concerned, though. Dead animals were all too common in her area, and they were usually taken care of by the garbage disposals of the animal kingdom, such as the buzzards.
    Renee sped up again and continued on her way home. It took about seven minutes to drive from the gate to the compound.
    Her house and the series of large buildings behind it loomed on one of the forest’s highest hills—which was not saying much, but it made the sight more impressive. The house itself was pretty big, although not so big that it wasn’t dwarfed by the three buildings behind it.
    As she neared the house, she had to slow the car down to a crawl, but a grin spread over her face. It was like frozen glass shattering. She was happy to be home.
    At least twenty dogs of varying sizes ran up to her truck and started barking, with the excitement and energy only dogs and young children seemed to manage. They jumped up with their front paws, and Renee had to be careful not to crush the smaller ones, but for the most part, they kept out of the way of the front of the truck and stayed to the sides. She finally stopped about twenty yards from her house. She would drive it into the garage shed later.
    She opened her coat and slid herself from the sleeves, then unwound her scarf before opening the door, so that all that got the brunt of her canine friends’ excitement was her T-shirt and jeans. She did not let them jump on her—she had a strict rule and trained as many of them as she could to stay down, at least the ones who jumped at all—but excitement and greeting was not a crime on the sanctuary land, and she wanted her dogs to be happy.
    Most of the dogs who came to greet her, all of whom she knew by name, bounded off to whatever else they desperately had to do at the moment. A few calmer dogs stuck by her side, along with Rufus, a long-haired chihuahua who was never calm. There was Ki, a mutt on the smaller end of the medium scale with Jack Russell markings, who was followed by Max, a black Yorkie terrier. On the other side of