25

On cue, both Ahote's and Haken's bodies begin to snap, their arms and legs elongating, the bone structure of their faces pushing outward into the muzzle of a werewolf's true form.

"Today," Ahote shouts out as his back snaps audibly, thrusting his torso several feet higher into the air to its full natural height, "we will walk through these streets unafraid to show who we really are. We are the werewolves of Haven! Uprooted and transplanted, but no less the pack we once were. March with me! And show the humans that we are not afraid!"

One by one the assembled wolves initiate their change, the snaps and groans of dozens of bodies transforming as one rising as a song of defiance. The noise echoes throughout the city streets with more ferocity than any chant or rebellious yell could hope to match. At that moment, two pacification squads march onto the road before you, dressed in black riot gear, rifles held in sling-ready position.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you remember the smaller confrontation between Tiva and the patrol squad. What could happen if this all goes horribly wrong?

Will you stand with your pack at the front lines or hold back in the crowd, hoping to draw less attention to yourself?

The crowd moves slowly forward, and you hold back, keeping to the rear of the procession. You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn skittishly to find Jolon's lean wolf form diminished within the shadows of his peers, hiding in plain sight.

"Fine day for a protest," the huntmaster says as he shifts his eyes from you to watch the front lines. "Best to keep your distance from the hot zones and use the crowd to your advantage. That way you can always be where you need to be at any given moment. Watch the edges, beware of flanking maneuvers, and never take anything for granted."

Before you can respond, Jolon melts back into the crowd, your eyes sliding off him unless you focus on his path. The line of the combined pacification squads stops short of the assembled wolves, some twenty feet down the street with an orderly clap of boots hitting the ground.

Ahote holds up a paw to signal a halt, and the pack slows, jostling you. Curious to see what's happening, you skirt to the side of the protesters where you can see forward.

A single human steps out from the center of the ranks and advances into the open, apparently unafraid of isolating himself in front of a packed crowd of angry werewolves in their full feral forms.

Decked out in full military regalia, the soldier's well-pressed uniform is liberally studded with colorful bars and small medals arrayed in almost impossibly perfect order. His brown hair is close-cropped and unremarkable, capping an indifferent face seemingly chiseled from stone. His eyes alone betray a sense of emotion, the fierce green orbs staring at the protesters with naked hatred. A rifle is held almost casually in his right hand, in sharp contrast to the rest of the soldiers' straps and careful grips.

Next

The soldier gestures at Ahote with the muzzle of his weapon. "Are you the leader of this sad display of defiance?"

"I am," Ahote says, his voice strong with conviction.

"You are in violation of the accords drafted between the United States military and your own Human Relations Council. Disband this illegal gathering immediately, or the consequences will be swift and severe."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Ahote says, his voice diminished but still holding strong. "The Council never agreed to pacification squads roaming our streets, infringing on our rights. Nor did they consent to additional forced labor above and beyond the agreed-upon hours."

A thin sneer of distaste passes over the soldier's face for a brief moment, and then it's gone, wiped clean to stony indifference. "I would think, Elder Ahote, that you would be more familiar with the founding documents of Haven. In particular, the clauses that govern attacks on military peacekeepers."

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir. Might I request the name of the officer bringing these charges?"

"Colonel Williams, US Army. No more talk, Elder. Dismiss this rabble, and you can all return to your workplaces in peace."

"No," Ahote says, standing rigid, a tremor in his back betraying his nerves. "We are sentient beings, not slaves. We have rights."

Williams sprints forward with uncanny speed, placing the barrel of his rifle on Ahote's temple. "You have what rights we choose to give you," he snarls. "Maybe I should make an example of you right here!"

You step forward from the crowd to address Williams, and the colonel's eyes go wide as if in recognition. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it, apparently reconsidering his comment. You can remember the text from the school's library clear as day, its statutes vivid as a photograph in your mind. You pause for a moment, trying to keep a look of smug satisfaction from your face.

"Colonel Williams, statute seventeen, subsection nine of the Haven Peace Accords expressly forbids the use of military force on a peaceful assembly of Haven-based werewolves, regardless of the reason for military presence in the city."

Williams's eyes crinkle, his brows furrowed as he considers a response carefully. "The Accords also allow for the institution of martial law on Haven-based werewolves, allowing us to disperse gatherings of more than five wolves found fomenting sedition against the US government or military."

The colonel's eyes narrow, and he bares his teeth before firing a round through Ahote's right leg. The sound of the shot rings out through the streets, and the protesters surge forward, but Ahote holds up a hand to stop them. He looks at you.

"If he wanted to kill me, I'd be dead already. Something more is at play here. Be wary."

The pacification squads begin marching toward the pack, rifles held at the ready in both hands. With the protesters in werewolf form, it would be difficult for bullets to actually kill them, but if subjected to enough damage, even a werewolf can fall for good.