by Ulrich Wendt (Author)

The phone rings and it is our neighbour to the east of us. There are wolves on the road again, heading our way. When we hurry to look, there they are-three wolves, bigger than you'd expect, trotting confidently on the packed snow in the middle. A fourth is in the ditch, the black one this time, and I know there must be a fifth circling through the roadside brush. They are hunting deer and the road is their tactical tool. Whatever we make of it is no concern of theirs.