“My sister,” Ruska murmured, scanning the sky frantically. Sure enough, there were two more helicopters, though they didn’t have the APAA emblem on them. “She’s a Seer, she had a vision that there would be a wolf massacre at Eagle Pass, and there is! That’s where those helicopter things are heading! And…and-!” She gasped. And that’s when her heart truly sank.

          A flock of ravens that seemed to cover the sun flew overhead. Their shrieks and squawks for fallen life rushed towards the ground and echoed inside Ruska’s head. She watched as the sunrise turned into night and the bright colors of the sun went mute and discolored. The ravens meant death, and she was the Last Lone Wolf.

          The last lone wolf.

          The scream started deep within, cutting through every thought and feeling until it shot out of her mouth: “I’ll be the last one! The very last wolf! We have to help them! Something to distract the hunters, something to take most of the bullets, something…Oh, Mom, Dad, Shade, don’t die, don’t die, don’t die-” She could barely feel the words on her lips, she was so distressed.

          Teke’s paw on her mouth was surprisingly gentle. He gazed at her seriously. “Okay, okay. Just calm down. Calm down. Please. No one’s going to die. Ruska.”

          She stepped away from him and shook herself, pain spinning through her like a spiked wheel. Teke watched her, and then touched her paw.

          “Follow me. I can fix this.”

          She watched his face. They had only met a few minutes ago. Could she trust him? He seemed to read her mind, and answered with raised eyebrows: what else could she do?

          Ruska nodded, and he took off at a run, leading away from the funnel of ravens. Ruska tried to follow, but her eyes wouldn’t leave the sky, and she found herself racing the ravens to Eagle Pass.

          She heard the crack of rifle shots and smelt gunpowder and blood even before she reached the forest in front of the mountains. She plunged into the brush, losing sight of the screaming birds momentarily, but she ran on straight as an arrow through the trees. Twigs and rocks flew up behind her in her haste, and damp moss felt slick beneath her paws. At last, the sounds of murder gaining volume with every step, Ruska crashed through the last trees to the battle ground.

          What greeted her made her heart turn cold and her soul shriek.

          The sky was black with ravens. Helicopter blades sliced the sky. Bullets spewed out of the copter guns, and the dying howl of wolves mixed with the squawking and shrill cawing of the ravens. The air was thick with blood. Brittle grass and black feathers whirled on the wind, and through it all came the sinking feeling of doom.

          Wild-eyed, Ruska searched the field for her family. Thankfully, no one she knew lay among the dead bodies in front of Eagle Pass, though the sight made her sick all the same. Her senses sharpened as she realized her vulnerability, and she ducked back into the trees and tried to figure out what she could do. The twenty or so hunters were advancing on the pack cave, recocking guns and loosening their hold on their dogs’ leashes. The hunting helicopters inched forward. With a fast chill like cold lightning, Ruska realized the hunters’ plan. The wolves were hiding in side the mountain. The hunters would let their dogs loose inside the tunnels to chase the wolves out, and once they were out –bang! Bang! Bang! – it would all be over.

          Ruska’s heart crumpled. In desperation she wondered if she could attack the hunters, but she knew it was foolish. She was only one wolf. One bullet –one tiny piece of metal– and she was gone.

          As the hopelessness rolled in, a sudden thought sparked at the edge of her brain. Where was the APAA helicopter?

          A white face appeared on one of the ridges on the mountain. Ruska looked up and examined it through narrowed eyes. Then she saw the red dot on its forehead, and her spirits rose and then plummeted. Shaila! Shaila, Shade, Remus, Aleu, Flint, Linder, Quicksilver– they were all in there. And they were all going to die.

          Shaila’s face disappeared as if she’d been yanked back by an unseen paw. Ruska kept peering upwards, wanting Shaila to stay out, to somehow escape the hounds. She hated this feeling, helpless and hopeless, a coward trembling in the brush. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t watch this.

          “Ready, boys?” a gruff voice cried, “Alright, lets-!” His words were cut off by a gasp. And the thrum of helicopter blades.

          Ruska opened one eye. A dark gray helicopter came swooping up the mountain range to the clearing. On its side were stamped proudly in red the letters APAA.

          All was quiet except for the whipping of copter blades as a rope ladder was thrown over the side, and a man in gray uniform descended from the passenger side. A few dogs started barking at this sight, and to Ruska’s surprise they were hushed by their owners.

          The man reached the end of the ladder, jumped the last couple feet, dusted himself off and faced the hunters while standing atop the Eagle Pass pack cave. In one hand he held a megaphone and on his head he wore a headpiece with giant earphones and tiny microphone by his mouth. The headpiece seemed to be connected to all the helicopters, because when he spoke his voice came over the copter radios. He spoke into the megaphone and microphone at the same time so his words reverberated around the clearing.

          “We are the APAA, the Animal Protection Association of Alaska. Now we all know you’ve heard of us, so shut up and pay attention. We are here on behalf of a crime you all have committed against our friend: the wolf. Do you have any idea that these are all the wolves left in Alaska?”

          There was some uncomfortable shuffling. One young hunter spoke up. “Well, sir, we’re just trying to get what we can!”

          “Well, you won’t be doing that anymore,” the APAA man snapped. He reached into his back pocket and brought out a rolled-up piece of paper. He glared at them all. “This association was formed a few years ago to protect the animals in Alaska whose numbers are dwindling. The wolf was one of the first on our list. Did you know, gentlemen, that when you shoot a wolf, you actually wreck your hunt? Sure, there might be more game, but you’re more likely to bring down a sick or crippled creature.”

          Ruska had opened her other eye in astonishment, and moreover couldn’t believe her ears. Was Remus’ plan actually working?

          “We set APAA members among you disguised as hunters to confirm these facts. These ‘hunters’ only hunted for necessity, not sport, but what they saw from the rest of you was enough. The disguises were necessary because we know some of you don’t think too highly of us at APAA.” With that he unrolled the piece of paper, and Ruska could see a lot of writing and a giant red seal at the bottom. “Through one member, who managed to trap a careless wolf and put a tracking collar on it, we were led to this cave. How you all found out, I don’t know. It probably had something to do with those helicopters and whatever tracking technology is in there. Well, I’m glad it brought you all here.” He snapped the paper open and read, “This document certifies that all wolves in Alaska are under the protection of the Animal Protection Association of Alaska. Anyone found harming a wolf in any way, will be subject to a fine of a minimum $15,000 and a possible six months in prison, given the severity of the case.” He paused for effect. “There’s more, but you get the gist of it. You can see it’s been signed and approved by our government.” He rolled up the document and slid it into his back pocket, and then looked around in a business-like manner. “Now that you know your position, it’s our job to get these wolves back where they belong. Safely. So no one is going anywhere.” He gestured toward the sky, where more APAA helicopters could be seen flying in from a distance. “The rest of the association is here, and since there isn’t enough room, we’ll need the hunting helicopters to land on the other side of the forest. All the rest of you– don’t move. One shot and you’ll be sitting on the inside of a jail cell with an empty wallet.”

          The hunting helicopters hesitated, and then slowly trundled away. Three APAA copters followed.