The vet exhaled. “That’s it. Hold on, little one.”
Another half hour passed before he stripped off his gloves and sank onto a stool. His eyes found Noemi’s, careful, carrying both relief and warning.
“He’s alive,” he said at last. “Weak, but stable—for now. We flushed what we could and started antibiotics. The next six hours are critical. If his lungs hold and infection stays down, he stands a chance.”
Her knees almost buckled. “Thank you.”
Alvarez shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet. Even if he survives, he can’t last without his pack.”
“I can take you back,” she said quickly. “To the beach. His mother may still be waiting.”
He studied her—her streaked face, her trembling hands, the desperate spark in her eyes. At length, he nodded. “We’ll prepare a carrier. Portable oxygen. If he crashes, we turn back. Agreed?”
“Yes,” she said, too fast, blinking against the tears.
They swaddled the pup in clean fleece, set the oxygen line, checked the monitors. A green light flickered softly at his side.
Alvarez lifted the carrier as though it held something sacred. “Lead us.”
Outside, the storm clawed at her hair. She barely felt it. Driving through the mist, her eyes flicked to the mirror every few seconds, making sure Alvarez’s truck stayed close.
At the trailhead, her phone rang—Alvarez’s voice. “He’s restless. Still breathing. Keep moving.”
They parked near the dunes. Flashlight beams pierced the fog as she led them through the tunnel. The stone walls glistened, the air thick with sea-salt and storm.
On the far side, moonlight spread silver across the cove.
Something stirred by the waterline.
The mother wolf stood waiting.
Her eyes caught the beam of light. She growled, uncertain, tense.
Noemi sank to her knees, opened the carrier, and stepped back. The pup whimpered faintly.
The mother’s posture shifted. With a low whine, she padded forward, nosed her pup. Alvarez removed the mask.
The tiny tongue flicked, brushing her muzzle.
A rumbling sigh escaped the adult wolf—half growl, half release. She nudged him gently behind her, protective once more.
Noemi’s vision blurred.
Alvarez clicked off the light. They retreated into the tunnel, leaving behind the soft shuffle of paws—two large, two small—fading into the dunes.
By the time they reached the trucks, the horizon had begun to glow. Pink light stretched across the clouds.
“You did it,” Alvarez said quietly.
Noemi wiped at her face, flakes of tar drifting like ash. “We did it,” she answered, then let out a raw, disbelieving laugh.
As she drove back toward the cottage, her body still trembled, her heart still thundered.
But the dread that had stalked her for weeks?
It was gone.
Behind her, somewhere in the wild dark, a wolf pup lived—because she had not turned away.