Standing out on the deck, the constant sound of gunshots pissed me off beyond belief. There was no way around it though, there were always people illegally hunting on my property and the other properties alongside mine. Such was life here though. I could call the sheriff and he would attempt to look for the hunters. He would issue them a warning and tell them to beat it. Like every other time, they would be back. I had been dealing with this issue now for a little over a year and with each gunshot; I was growing tired of the games. I couldn't even get the neighbour to help me with the problem. He was far from nice, or even slightly polite.

To say we didn't get along was less from the full truth. He hated me. Which I really didn't understand. I had done nothing to make him hate me. He had just hated me from day one. He complained about me being too loud and flashy. I really didn't understand this at all, but I didn't go out of my way to cause problems. It just wasn't worth it as far as I was concerned. I wanted to continue to enjoy living out here. Pinching the bridge of my nose, the shooting continued. Heading back inside, I went to the gun case and grabbed my gun. Thank heavens my grandfather had been a pretty big hunter, but strictly only for things he could actually use. He left nothing to go to waste as well. He was a proper hunter and marksman.

Putting my hiking boots on, I snagged the closest coat and the keys for the four-wheeler off the hook. I heard my dogs coming down the hall to the door and I waited for them to appear. My four german shepherds looked at me excitedly.

"I'll walk you guys later. Right now, I have to deal with all this shit. Watch the house. Blair, don't you dare touch the trash and King, you make sure he doesn't get the trash?"

Closing the door behind me I went to the garage and started the Four-wheeler making sure the door was open and the gun was strapped down before I took off into the early hours of the forest. The gun was for two things: the wolves and the hunters. Both seemed to be a problem around here. But I had promised my grandfather when I was a young boy to never harm the wolves unless they were feral and coming after me. I still would live by that here and now, many years later.

There were trails in here that the hunters had made with their own ATV's and they were easy to follow and see the ones that had been used recently. On one of those trails, a bloody wolf jumped out in front of me. I slammed on the brakes, stopping just short of the wolf. He clearly had a gunshot wound and bared his teeth at me. He growled low when I stepped off my four-wheeler.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you."

He only snarled at me again. The sound of feet coming right up to the edge of the forest. Unstrapping my gun, I pointed it at the hunters who stumbled out, looking for the wolf.

"I do believe I've told you all not to hunt on my property."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"I told you not to chase it out this way."

"And I've told you all to hunt elsewhere. Now get off my property, before I return the favour of my wolf friend here."

The wolf was beside the side of my four-wheeler, using it to almost hide behind.

"Just let us kill it. It will die like that."

"Get off my property. Before I shoot you."

"I'm going to call the sheriff—-"

"You will, huh? And tell him what? That you were hunting on my property again?"

"Fuck!"

"Now get!"

They walked off ahead for a while and I heard them start their ATV's before they took off. I turned and looked back at the wolf, who snarled at me again. He looked pretty bad, Last thing I wanted to do was to actually have to put him down. As if a god was smiling down in my favour, he collapsed and that gave me the perfect moment to attempt to pick him up. Which didn't work because he was massive. But after a bunch of tries, I got him up on the back. He was laid on the back and I drove slowly, careful not to toss him off as I made it back to the house.

He moved slightly when I carefully moved him from the back of the four-wheeler to a random tarp I found in the garage. I was thankful for the ramp off the deck; I used it to pull my unhappy friend up onto the deck. Opening the door off the deck, I made sure the dogs were well enough back. He growled, not even opening an eye when I pulled him through the open door.

My dogs growled in response to his growls.

"Oh, knock it off. Leave it alone. You can tell it's hurt."

I pulled it into the kitchen and went to look for my medical bag. I needed the stuff from inside the bag, like the bandages and wipes. I hoped he was asleep for long enough to remove the bullet. I was probably going to get bit. Deciding to drug the wolf seemed to be the best option.

I mushed up some over-the-counter sleeping pills and mixed them with water before using the turkey baster from the kitchen and sticking it in the side of his muzzle; he growled but took the drugged water I offered him. Grabbing my kit, I gave him well more than enough time to be passed out from the dose of the sleeping pills.

Getting down on the kitchen floor, I got close to the wolf, making sure he was actually passed the hell out before pulling my kit over to me. I should have taken him to the vets, I was worried they would put him down though. I found a good pair of tweezers and packing before I started to poke around at his wound. The bullet was the straightforward part. He started to bleed again, and it was really not stopping. I was worried he would bleed out here on a tarp on my kitchen floor.

Thinking back to training, I reached in the bag and pulled out gloves. I pulled them on quickly before stuffing my thumb in the bullet hole. I didn't have the proper stuff to stitch the wound like I had been trained to. But I did have a curved needle and some regular thread. It was my only option and I would have to make it work.

Removing my thumb from the wound, I quickly stuffed the hole with packing and raced to get the needle and thread. Finding it wasn't hard at all. With it in hand, I ran back to the kitchen and threaded it. I didn't miss my job at all right now. I had been a paramedic before I had got divorced, over a year ago now.

I had got married young, at twenty-two. To the first man who told me he loved me, boy, that had been a mistake. He had been twenty-six and convinced me we would take on the world together, and we had for over five years. It hadn't been at all perfect for those five years either, but we had been somewhat happy for some of it.

The year of my divorce had already been rough. I had lost my grandfather only six months before and he left me the property. That had been a godsend. I had owned it for eight months when the divorce had been finalized. Matthew and I took the time before I left to sort out all of our stuff. After that, he sold our home. That was the last thing we had owned together and once we sold it, it was like it had never happened.

We didn't hate each other, we just didn't get along like we once had, and that was the largest part of the whole divorce. We had become different people. He would come to visit every once in and while if he was in the area working on a case or needed a break from his city life. He liked all the dogs and was happy I was doing well. I wouldn't call us friends, but rather just two people who once cared for each other.

Looking down at the wolf, I slowly pulled the packing out and made sure the bleeding my minimal before I started the stitch the wound. He twitched only slightly with the first stitch, after that, he didn't move. Once I tied the last stitch and cut the tread, I got up and grabbed a clean cloth, wetting it before I cleaned the fur around his now closed wound.

I felt a lot better after I cleaned his fur. He really was a beautiful creature.

It really pissed me off about the hunters having even shot him in the first place. But it was done and over with for now. Tomorrow, I could call the sheriff and complain again.