"I'm not sure how useful long guns are going to be in that confined space." Decker said as he loaded three of the hunting rifles.

"Well we only have the one handgun." Hannibal said. "Either of you two want to take it?" He held up the pistol. Neither BA nor Decker took it, so Hannibal tucked it in the back of his waistband. Decker handed out the loaded rifles.

"Let's go." Hannibal said. Decker went past him out of the small armoury. Hannibal followed and locked the door carefully behind them.

The three armed men walked along the central corridor. The doors to the rec room were closed. Pink Floyd was still playing as they passed, but abruptly the music stopped. Now there was only the sound of the wind.

In a moment the party reached the door into the kennel. Hannibal listened hard, ear close to the door. No sound came from inside. If the wolf was in there it wasn't near the door. Unless it was staying very quiet.

As he unlocked the door Hannibal wondered if the sound of the key in the lock would be enough to frighten it off. He wondered the same thing about the light as he reached a hand through the door, and felt around for the switch. Only once he'd clicked on the light did Hannibal open the door wide enough to put his head round it and peer inside.

There wasn't much to see. Even with the lights on the kennel was pretty dim. Hannibal supposed dogs didn't need bright lights. What were they going to do? Read? There was a short passageway immediately inside the door. Hannibal beckoned Decker and BA to follow him inside. He let them pass him and turned to lock the door behind them.

Decker didn't seem to be showing any inclination to assert his right to lead the way Hannibal noticed. He appeared happy to let Hannibal be the one to go first into a dimly lit area that might contain a large wild animal with big teeth. He wondered if Decker had decided that since Murdock did this it was Hannibal's problem to fix?

Hannibal led the way along the passage. At the end of it a six-foot wood and wire gate led into the dog pens. The three men moved through the gate and bolted it behind them.

The pens were now on their right, two large spaces, wire fronted, with gates that currently stood open. A wood and wire partition separated the two. The pens were very dimly lit. Hannibal could just about make out straw on the floor of the pen he could see into and what looked like a couple of piles of dog blankets. The corners of the pens were pitch black.

"It's definitely been here." Decker said, his voice a whisper, but startling Hannibal as it broke the silence. "You can smell it."

He's right, Hannibal thought. A musky, organic smell, like it had marked the territory. A gust of wind stirred the straw and Hannibal glanced at the open exterior door. It was nearly dark again out there. What little light could get through the snowy clouds illuminated only a small patch of floor inside the door. A small drift of snow had blown in through the open door.

The breath of the men made clouds in the freezing air. The kennel was sheltered, but right now it wasn't heated and Hannibal's hands were cold. He wore only thin gloves so he could still use the rifle.

Alongside the pens, a straight run to the exterior door was laid with wooden planks. The run was narrow, to keep over enthusiastic sled dogs in check. The footsteps of the three men on the planked walkway were noisy enough to make Hannibal wince.

"Anybody hear anything? Anything that's not us?" Hannibal asked. Neither Decker nor BA answered, so Hannibal took that as a no.

"Okay, spread out," Hannibal said. "Decker take the second pen, I'll take the first. BA, you stay up here by the gate. If the wolf runs out try and encourage it towards the outside."

Again they didn't answer, only nodded and moved into position. Decker moved quickly down the walkway until he was by the open gate to the pen nearest the exterior door. BA stayed by the gate that led back to the door into the station, his gun ready.

Hannibal stepped through the gate into the nearest pen, readying his rifle. He stood on something soft and looked down. A dead rat. Or rather half a dead rat.

"Look out, Smith!"

Hannibal saw a blur of movement as something dark leapt straight at him from inside the pen. A shot rang out and the light above his head exploded, scattering shards of plastic and fine glass. A heavy weight rammed into Hannibal throwing him backwards, arms flung out, the rifle flying from his hands. Another shot and pain tore into Hannibal's right arm, before he hit the floor on his back. His head struck the wooden planks and he moaned, stars exploding in darkness behind his eyes.

It was on top of him. He could feel its paws, its claws, on his chest. Terrifyingly heavy. Hannibal opened his eyes and looked right into the wolf's face. Dark eyes stared calmly back at him. Thick fur around its head and neck glittered with tiny pieces of glass and plastic from the smashed light.

Is it like a bear? Hannibal wondered. If I play dead will it leave me alone? Or is it like a shark? Will the smell of blood on me make it go berserk? The handgun stuck into the small of his back. If he made a move for it would the wolf rip his throat out before he could use the weapon? He thought about reaching around for his rifle, but then he froze as the wolf moved.

It bent its head down, bits of glass and plastic falling from its coat to patter down onto Hannibal and to the floor. It sniffed Hannibal, snuffling around his face, breath hot on his skin. His breathing had stopped. He closed his eyes.

Then the sniffing stopped and Hannibal gasped as claws dug into his chest. Its weight forced the breath from him as the wolf pushed away. He heard it run along the walkway, claws scrabbling on the planks.

"Close the door, fool!" BA yelled. Hannibal turned onto his left side to see Decker still beside the gate of the other pen and now staring at the exterior door. He didn't move. "Now!" BA shouted. Decker unfroze, looked back at BA then ran to the exterior door and pushed it closed, struggling against the small snowdrift.

Hannibal fell back and lay with his head spinning, panting. In a second BA was at his side pulling him up to sit against the wall. The pain in his arm that had been as frozen as the moment instantly came back and he winced and clutched at the wound. Dizziness washed over him as reaction hit.

"It ran right by me." Decker gasped breathlessly, kneeling down on Hannibal's right. "Its tail brushed against my legs." He sounded awe-struck. "It ran right by me!"

"And you didn't get its autograph?" Hannibal snapped. BA prised Hannibal's hand away to check the wound.

"Okay," Hannibal looked at them, first BA, then Decker. "Which of you fired second?" He saw a glance pass between the two men.

"In all the excitement I don't remember." Decker said.

"Me neither." BA agreed.

Hannibal scowled at them. Covering for each other? Of course neither shot had exactly been a prize-winner. At least the one that nailed Hannibal had been nearer the intended target than the one that blew out the light. Assuming Hannibal wasn't the intended target that is. Don't the psychologists say 'there are no accidents'?

"If I ever find out which of you shot me…" Hannibal groaned again at the pain.

"Quit grousin'." BA growled. "Ain't no more'n a scratch."

Hannibal glanced down at the so-called scratch. There was a deep gouge in his right upper arm, not far above the elbow. But despite the blood and pain it was clearly superficial. The bullet had skimmed the arm not penetrated.

"Let's get him to the infirmary," Decker said and he and BA lifted Hannibal to his feet. BA picked up Hannibal's dropped rifle and slung it on his back with his own. Then, awkward in the narrow spaces, they helped Hannibal towards the door back into the station. Decker rummaged in Hannibal's pocket for the keys. They could all hear Murdock and Face shouting from the other side. Someone banged on the door.

"We're okay!" Decker yelled. "Coming out now." As Decker unlocked the door Hannibal pulled away from him and BA.

"I can manage." Hannibal said quietly. BA nodded in understanding. Hannibal wasn't sure if Decker got it, but he backed off and let Hannibal open the door and walk out unaided.

Face and Murdock both reacted with open mouths and wide eyes to the sight of Hannibal's blood covered arm. Hannibal made himself keep his arms down, resisting the urge to clutch the wound.

"I'm okay." Hannibal said, before either of them could speak. "Just a minor scratch. Bullet skimmed me. Need to get it cleaned up."

He quickly walked up the corridor, leading the way to the infirmary. He had to get there fast, because if he didn't he was going to fall down. The shock and blood loss, added to the weakness from his fever meant he was ready to just slide to the floor and stay there. But if he did that he wasn't sure Murdock would be able to stand it.

In the infirmary he sat on the examination table, while BA and Decker fussed around him, cleaning the wound. Murdock stood watching, arms wrapped around himself. Face collected up all the rifles and took them away.

"I'm sorry, Colonel." Murdock said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"It's okay, Murdock," Hannibal said. "Just an accident, and nothing serious." BA and Decker were gathering up dressings, getting in each other's way. "Come here, Murdock." Hannibal said. Murdock hesitated then came over. Hannibal put a hand on Murdock's shoulder, leaned closer to him. "We didn't kill it. It ran away." He faked up a smile. "Ran right through Decker's legs, isn't that right, Rod?"

Decker just scowled. He'd been disturbed by the whole wolf situation from the day it showed up, Hannibal thought. Maybe as well as Daddy issues he had doggy issues. Or maybe he just couldn't deal with something he couldn't arrest.

"I don't care about that," Murdock said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, you do, Murdock. You don't have to pretend not to. That's okay. Really." Decker was standing beside Hannibal now, waiting to dress the wound. "You know right now I could do with a cup of tea, plenty of sugar. Might calm my nerves a bit. Could you get that for me?"

"Sure thing, Colonel." Murdock smiled. "I'll make some for all of us." He turned and hurried out of the room.

Decker started to dress the gunshot wound and Hannibal winced.

"What would really calm my nerves about now is something morphine based."

~~~~

"Colonel."

Hannibal blinked, peering into the darkness. His room was lit dimly by his bedside lamp. Murdock stood by the bed. He was blurry around the edges to Hannibal's half-asleep, half doped up brain. Murdock wore his baseball cap and leather jacket and he was pouring water from a jug into a glass.

"Murdock?"

"The effect is so much better when the reactions are genuine, isn't it?"

Murdock's voice was distant, like a faint and fading radio broadcast. Hannibal tried to sit up, but he couldn't move. Murdock poured the water from the glass back into the jug.

"Everybody's reactions."

Murdock poured out water into the glass again.

"Why were you so surprised, Colonel? I didn't invite the wolf in. You did."

He poured the water from the glass back into the jug.

"What?" Hannibal's vision got cloudy. He heard Murdock's voice somewhere in the centre of the cloud.

"The wolf's not gone, Colonel. It never leaves."

Hannibal heard a clink as Murdock put the glass and jug on the nightstand. The sounds faded away. Hannibal raised a hand. He could see his hand lit by the soft glow of the lamp on his nightstand. But when he reached towards Murdock it was swallowed up into the darkness. The same darkness that swept over his head now and pulled him into its depths.

When Hannibal woke the next morning his mouth was dry as dust and he reached for the water jug Murdock had left there. He found nothing on his nightstand but the unlit lamp.