Clara sat in her chair, having entirely forgotten to put her shirt back on, one hand idly stroking Naber's tail.
"Come on then, do it again for big sister."
"Whimper…" Naber seemed to understand perfectly. The little tail swept back and forth without pause.
Good heavens. She had somehow managed to bring home the most extraordinary wolf in existence. Clara reached for her camera and began recording, keeping her voice soft and coaxing.
"Baby, come on — shake hands with big sister."
She extended a finger toward Naber's paw, teasing it back and forth. Naber's ears pricked up. It watched the finger moving in front of its nose, lunged to catch it in its mouth — and found nothing, Clara having whisked her hand away. A moment later the finger reappeared.
"Come on, shake."
Naber settled back on its haunches, considered the situation with great seriousness, then extended its left paw with tentative delicacy, barely grazed Clara's fingertip, and immediately pulled it back.
Clara prodded the small paw with her finger, and Naber, gradually satisfied that no harm was intended, began to bat playfully at her hand, curiosity winning out over caution.
"Whimper…" It stuck out a pink tongue and looked at her meaningfully.
Clara warmed up the milk and fed Naber until it was satisfied, then carried it into the bathroom and set it down in front of the drain.
"Listen carefully," she said, crouching down to its level. "From now on, when you need to go, you come here. No more going wherever you feel like it — we're guests in someone else's home, and we have to behave accordingly. Tomorrow I'll put a box over in the corner, and when you need to do the other thing, you use the box. I'll clean it up when I get back."
Thomas was a fastidiously clean person. Naber, being a wolf and not a human, had no natural inclination to seek out a bathroom when nature called — it simply followed instinct, slipping off to whatever hidden corner was available. The smell that had begun to settle into the apartment was subtle, but Clara had noticed it. And more importantly, she had noticed that Thomas had noticed it too, even if he said nothing.
He didn't like Naber. That much was quietly apparent.
There had been several moments when Clara had nearly told him the truth — that Naber wasn't a dog at all. Each time, the words had dissolved before she could speak them. He had no patience for dogs to begin with. A wolf would be entirely out of the question. And yet she had carried it all this way, and she wasn't about to give it up simply because it was inconvenient.
Besides, Naber was something genuinely remarkable. It possessed all the sharp instincts of a wolf, and yet it kept revealing qualities that had no business being there. Wolves didn't wag their tails — everyone knew that. Yet here was Naber, doing exactly that, with perfect technique and apparent enthusiasm, having taught itself with no instruction whatsoever.
It kept surprising her. And she had the growing certainty that her instinct about the competition subject had been right — this creature would give her more material than she could ever have hoped for.
She looked down. Naber stood over the drain, staring up at her with those green eyes.
Clara crouched and waited. She made encouraging noises. Naber responded by circling her in tight, unhelpful loops. This wasn't going to work — she knew from experience that if it went to sleep without emptying its bladder, she would wake up to a very damp situation.
Determined, Clara tried a different approach. She had seen it done on television once.
"Shhh… shhhh…" she hissed softly, feeling deeply ridiculous. She was, she realized, fully committed to the role of wolf mother.
Naber stopped circling. It stared at her, ears raised in bafflement. Then, slowly, as Clara continued her patient stream of encouraging hisses, something shifted. Naber lowered its haunches slightly — and went.
Clara felt a completely disproportionate surge of pride.
She rinsed the drain, scooped Naber up, and carried it back to bed. But the moment she set it down in the kennel, it began scraping at the wooden frame with its claws, straining toward the mattress above with single-minded determination.
The scratching was relentless. Sleep was impossible. Clara reached down, pulled Naber up, and tucked it under the duvet beside her.
The warmth was immediate and enveloping, and Clara's familiar scent wrapped around it like a second skin. For a creature accustomed to cold ground and open skies, this was an almost incomprehensible luxury. Naber pressed its nose contentedly against the soft warmth of Clara's chest, gave a small, satisfied sigh, and closed its eyes.