I work as a volunteer in a wolf sanctuary up in the Pacific Northwest. It’s a fairly small establishment, and a fairly young one too. We started during the 2010s and we kept going as a small but determined group of people. We take things seriously, and we live by our desire to help these majestic beasts.

The sanctuary stands on a pretty remote spot, completely surrounded by forest. We like the thought of keeping our animals as close as possible to their habitat, and this position also lets us keep track fairly easily of the wolves we set free after the rescue. It isn’t an easy life by any means, but we’ve managed to adjust to it, some more than others. For me, these forests really feel like home, and once we got our cabin up and running with electricity and internet I stopped caring about my life in the nearby town. I had all I wanted right there, among the trees.

However, for the sake of everyone’s mental well being, we take turns to stay in here. No more than two weeks, no less than two people. The woods can really strain your mind, and that’s not optimal when your daily routine revolves around caring for wild animals that can easily weigh more than 100 pounds and could potentially tear you to shreds in mere seconds.

This time, it was me and Oliver’s turn. It was a pretty chill time: Oliver is amazing at his job, the weather was nice despite the low temperatures and our residents were absolutely lovely. By residents, I mean four wonderful specimens of Northwestern gray wolves, rescued as pups and raised by us in captivity. Four wonderful females: Artemis, Tia, Ice and Dawn. They are a considerable amount of work, but it’s really worth it.

So as I was saying, things were going pretty smooth. Then, yesterday morning, one of the GPS devices we use to track rescued wolves sent out a signal. Nothing really out of the ordinary: this signal in particular lets us know that the device has not moved at all in the last 24 hours. It could mean that the animal is hurt, but most times it simply means that the device has somehow detached from the collar of the wolf and needs to be recovered. So Oliver decided to go and check it out. The day went on as usual, until early afternoon. Oliver contacted me via radio, stating that he was rushing back to camp. I could hear his voice being a little different, less composed and calm than usual. About 20 mins later, he rolled in to the front of the sanctuary with our pick up.

“Man you gotta take a look at this” he said, getting off the vehicle in a hurry. As I approached the back of the pick up where Oliver was standing, I could immediately feel the pungent smell of rotting flesh. Oliver said nothing, he just stared down, eventually covering his nose. On the back of the pick up laid the corpse of a wolf we rescued months back. HIs beautiful black fur ruffled, his eyes and mouth wide open and three huge slashes on the side of his body. Those are way too big, I remember thinking instinctively. We tried to assess the situation with Oliver back in the hut. He decided to drive back to town before sundown, so he could get the carcass to the local vet in the hope of getting some answers. He proposed to ask someone to come over and cover him for the night, but I assured him I would be just fine. He left shortly after, leaving me alone with the wolves, who were wandering around their pen, probably alerted by the strong smell of death still faintly present in the air.

I finished my tasks for the day, prepared some canned soup for dinner and ate it straight out of the can, while trying to wrap my head around the wounds on that wolf. I had never seen anything like it, and a quick check in the sanctuary’s archive revealed that something like that had just never happened before. It was common to find dead wolves, but it was way less common to find massacred ones. Just as I was skimming through all our reports, I realized that one of the wolves was loudly growling outside. A weird behavior for sure. I looked out the window: it was Artemis, on the far side of the pen, right at the fence, growling at the dark tree line just ahead. I found it extremely weird for her to do such a thing. I grabbed my flashlight and headed outside. I could see my breath, and I realized that the evening air had gotten slightly colder than usual. I made my way to the fence, opened the gate and squeezed myself in. Tia, Ice and Dawn came out of their enclosures and quickly made their way around me. Now this wasn’t unusual per se, but the way they kept their posture low was. They were clearly alarmed by something. I called for Artemis, to no avail. She just kept on growling at seemingly nothing. In the air, the same rotting smell was still present, if not even stronger than before. This couldn’t have been possible. The whole situation gave me a gut feeling like no other. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I was feeling exposed. Part of me wanted to get the wolves and crawl back in the hut with them, clearly not the brightest train of thought. I slowly made my way to Artemis. When I placed my hand on her back she stopped growling and started softly whimpering to me, briefly looking at me, before staring back in the dark. She seemed relieved.

I flashed my light in the dark. Nothing but trees, no movement, anything at all. The wolves didn’t cut back on their alerted state though. They were still scared by something. I started taking them back the the enclosures and locking them in. As I was closing Tia’s door, Dawn started growling too, immediately followed by Ice, from inside her enclosure. My unease started to spiral out of control, so I hurried the whole process. Once the doors were locked, I started walking back to the hut. But then I realized how silent the whole place had become. Dead silence, all around. Then, a faint shuffling, some twigs breaking. My heart sank: it came right from where Artemis was growling at. I stood there, like a deer in the headlight, pondering my options. I decided to check once again, just to be sure, before going back to the hut as fast as possible, closing the door, closing all the shutters and just trying to get some sleep. I walked slowly, flashlight in my right hand, pointing the beam left and right.

Then I saw them.

Two eyes in the darkness, shining back at me. Two amber dots, about a foot from the ground. The eyes of a wolf?! As I kept on staring at them, wondering what was going on, something impossible happened: without breaking eye contact, the dots started lifting up, and up, and up. When they stopped, they stood among the pine needles, about 10 foot high, before vanishing. I kept hearing twigs breaking, before silence fell back around me.

That was it. I darted back to the hut, closing every damn shutter and bolting the doors. I stood there in complete darkness, and in complete silence, hardly getting any sleep at all.

As I write this the sun is way up in the sky, but I still can’t shake off the dreadful feeling those eyes casted upon me. The wolves seem to be fine, and Oliver should be returning later today.

This forest felt like my home. Today I don’t feel so sure about that any more.