She had been tracking the beast alone for much of the morning, fearless as she wandered beneath great clusters of tamarack that surrounded the wetlands to the east, the great swatches of red maple and black ash that blanketed the north. She had brought with her only a rucksack filled with dried fruit and bits of moose jerky and had, slung over her shoulder, the Remington 550-1 which had belonged to her grandmother, acquired years earlier in order to protect herself and their land. It wasn’t a wolf-hunting gun—it wasn’t the caliber for such an undertaking—but she had no other choice.
I’m honored to be sharing space with these other tremendous. This new issue is subtitled “With Alacrity!”—and boy, howdy, is it.