Wolverine Stories 

The white-capped, gray-ribbed mountains swallowed the late summer sun like a piece of lemon drop candy. Darkness crept out from behind boulders, trees, and ravines, where it had hidden all day, slowly conquering the last of the open space. It was mid-August, and I sat on Sunset Ridge along the Highline Trail in Montana’s Glacier National Park. From the shadows of the subalpine fir trees in front of me, two deep, guttural woofing sounds rumbled out a warning, followed by a response from a different creature with the most ferocious snarl I could imagine.

Fear pooled on my neck as I rushed to gather my things and scurry back to where my tent was set up and my National Park Service backcountry trail crew was stationed. As I retreated, I kept looking back to see what monster might pursue me down the trail. That night, my senses were keen to every sound outside the tent, but nothing ripped through the nylon walls and devoured