darling books: howling in Montana

  They found the signals right away, clucking clear in the crystal air, and they knew the wolves were very close. In the beam of the flashlight, they found tracks no more than minutes old.
  Helen turned off the light and they stood quite still and listened. The only sound was the soft thud of snow falling, now and then, from a tree.
  'Howl,' she whispered.
  He had heard her do it several times, without success, but had never yet attempted a howl himself. He shook his head.
  'Try,' she said softly.
  'I c-can't. It w-wouldn't...'
  He made a little gesture with his fingers toward his mouth and she realized that he was afraid his voice might not come, that it would betray him, and leave him mute and embarrassed as so often it did.
  'It's only me, Luke.'
  For a long moment he looked at her. And she saw in his sad eyes what she already knew he felt for her. She took off her glove and reached out and touched his cold face and smiled. She felt him tremble a little at her touch. And as she lowered her hand, he put his head back and opened his mouth and howled, long and plaintively, into the night.
  And before the note had time to die, from across the snow-tipped trees of the canyon, the wolves replied.

Nicholas Evans: The Loop (picture from dooyou.co.uk). Wolves, wolf-hating ranchers and a heartbroken biologist in the Montana mountains - can it get any better?