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Matt Reynolds pulled off his helmet and mopped the soot and grime off his face. The fire was finally out, but not before acres of forest were lost. He and his fellow volunteer firefighters had spent endless hours putting out hot spots. The fulltime firefighters had moved on to another fire.

“Ride’s coming.”

Picking up his shovel, Matt joined the line of men waiting for the truck to take them back to town. Out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw a furry animal jump out of the brush. He turned to see a wolf racing straight at him.

“Look out, Reynolds,” someone yelled.

The wolf stopped in front of him, tawny eyes wild with terror. Fires were brutal on wildlife and the poor wolf looked dirty and ragged. Tongue hanging out, she lay down at Matt’s feet.

Although wolves were protected in this area, he’d rarely seen one. He hunkered down and petted the wolf on the head. Her thick brown fur was sticky with soot and Matt felt an instance kinship with the animal. “Looks like both of us are worn out.” The wolf closed her eyes and rubbed her head against his hand.

Gears grinding, the National Guard truck arrived.

“Get away from that wolf, Reynolds,” Captain Hillard called out. “That thing might be rabid.”

Matt rose and walked to the truck. The wolf followed, whining when he climbed in and joined the exhausted crew. When the truck pulled away, the wolf ran after it until she couldn’t keep up.

“Sorry, girl,” Matt whispered as the wolf disappeared from view.

Excerpt from Wolf Style by B.J. McCall