Eight days. It has been eight days and there has been no change.  I went home once a day to change and shower. Otherwise, I did not leave Callan’s room. Different pack members would come to visit, bringing me food and to keep me company. It had become almost routine at this point. Beta Jack and Marta would come first thing in the morning, bringing me breakfast. Beta Jack would stay and keep me company, updating me on anything relevant to pack business. Nathan and Jennifer would come at lunch time. Catherine would come with another pack member who had made me dinner. Justin would typically stop by after dinner and would stay with Callan while I went to shower and change. And the day would begin again.At the end of day eight, exhaustion was starting to set in. I was not sleeping well and worried filled me all day. I had just returned from showering and changing, thanking Justin for staying with Callan, when Dr. Powell walked in.“Hi Dr. Powell. What is

10 years later“Anders! Get back in here! Your mom told you dinner was almost ready five minutes ago!” Callan yelled out the back door, before giving up and going out to the backyard. I laughed as Callan fought to round up our son. From what Catherine told me, Anders was just like Callan was when he was young; stubborn, strong, and, at times, apparently hard of hearing. I had called him in several times alerting him of dinner, but he continued to run around the field behind the packhouse.  At nearly ten years old, Anders was already showing his power and strength. He took after Callan in both behavior and looks, although he had my green eyes. Callan was often proud of his behavior while I was stuck running around trying to wrangle him in. His sister, Romy, was the opposite. At age 7, she was calm and controlled. She was empathic and caring. I didn’t expect her to be a red wolf and I doubted that she would be. At this point, there were six red wo