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January 2013, vol 8, no 4

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Lynn Edge

The Last Pair

When I was a young woman, a friend and I drove through miles of scrub oak on the Aransas Wildlife Refuge. In a clearing, a wolf loped across the road, stopped a few yards from the car and looked back over its shoulder. A second wolf trotted toward the first. The wind ruffled their coats, glinting red in the winter sun.

another limb breaking
from the oak