27

The scrapyard is a twisted pile of brick, rotting metal, and steel that sits dead center in the scorched remains of the rotting Yale University campus. Something about the air of this place has a disquieting effect on those who visit, its stillness often likened by the elders to the ghosts of thousands of inquisitive minds being snuffed out in a single moment of rage.

Your species' last stand in Haven is a great shame to your pack, leveraged by the humans who placed you here to instill in you a perpetual state of guilt. Years ago, a few enterprising wolves dug out a few of the university's science labs several blocks from here, and they work there from time to time on secretive projects, reporting only to the elders.

We killed thousands of innocent civilians as the soldiers pushed us back against the shore, you think as you work your way up the mountain of rubble. All that we had left were warriors and the wolves with enough tenacity to survive an attempted genocide. If I'd lived through all of that, seen my loved ones die horribly at the hands of the humans…would I have been any more forgiving than they were?

Cresting a rise of crumbled brick and concrete, you look down into a dug-out valley of metal beams and cables. This portion of the scrapyard has been looted liberally over the years, its reserves of high-quality metal providing superior materials as the pack rebuilt the parcels of Haven they call home.

You descend the unstable walls of the pit, a scree of brick fragments clattering down past you as your feet disturb them. Ahote has been secretly using the pack's metal shop to craft tools for his campaign against the humans. To do that, he needs supplies that won't be noticed when they go missing.

Your eyes hover over the choice of materials. He said I should look for something useful that could help us defend ourselves.

You scrounge up as much material as you can carry in a single trip and trudge back to the workshop, cursing the extra weight with increasing vehemence the entire way. When you finally heave it all off your shoulders, hidden behind the shop's heavy machinery, you let loose an oath that would crinkle the fur on your grandmother's nose even from the grave.

A muffled chuckle from behind causes you to jump. You twist about in place like startled prey before you realize that it's only the shop's manager.

"Heh," Razor laughs. "Well, aren't you a raw bundle of nerves?"

You roll your eyes at the muscle-bound behemoth of a wolf. "You'd be jumpy, too, if you had to sneak past the humans as often as I do."

She snorts. "Any time you want to switch jobs with me you can be my guest, pup. Just be ready to lift hundreds of pounds of metal, sweat your ass off working the humans' machines, and deal with Colonel Williams constantly breathing down your neck about the 'unacceptable delays in production.'"

Razor grunts. "You'd be begging me to take the job off your hands after the first day. But I admire your enthusiasm," she mutters as she turns and starts walking out of the room. "Oh!" she calls back. "Almost forgot why I was bothering with you. Ahote wants to see you in his office. Said it's important."

Great, you think to yourself. Ahote couldn't let me have a moment's rest, could he?

Ahote's Office

"Ah, Elizar Evenwood! Just the wolf I was hoping to see," Ahote says around the stem of an old pipe. He inhales the strangely sweet-smelling smoke into his lungs. "Come in, come in. We have much to discuss." He takes a last deep drag on the pipe before eyeballing its bowl with a disappointed grimace. "That's the last of it. Ah well, foul habit anyway, and I wouldn't want any of you pups emulating me. But I'll admit, it does calm the nerves."

The old wolf picks up a piece of paper from his desk and hands it to you. The page lists the names of fifteen wolves in the pack. All have been struck out but one, many with an explanation written beside it in Ahote's distinctive elaborate cursive script: "Too ambitious," "No charisma," "Out-of-control violent tendencies," "No required skills," on and on with only one unmarked name remaining. "Elizar Evenwood."

"Me?" you ask aloud, trying without much success to keep your voice steady. "What could you possibly want from me that none of the others can do?"

"Tell me," the elder says, ignoring your question. "In times of great turmoil, which group in the pack stands to lose the most if the ship is never righted?"

"My thoughts exactly," Ahote says, reaching over to tap you on the forehead.

The elder sets down the pipe and sinks slowly into his padded chair. "The wolves of the Assembly are too embroiled in internal power struggles trying to save their own skins, and for all the wisdom of the elders, we grow frailer by the year. I have determined that we must rely on the youth to chart our pack's future. You have the most to lose as our freedoms are taken away one by one, and the most to gain by our liberation. I've taken over a month to examine each of the fifteen pups born since our incarceration in Haven. Out of all potential candidates, you are the one I have chosen to lead our way into the future.

"Your studies with the huntmaster have honed your skills in the art of stealth and deception to a razor's edge. Yes, I'm aware of your trips to Bly's dojo and your training there with Jolon. It may not be the avenue of study I hoped you would pursue, but it seems well-chosen nonetheless. You stand ready to defend our pack against violent threats by utilizing the Way of the Shadow, and I have determined that this path shall lead us forward, through you."

"How did you—?" you ask, but Ahote cuts you off.

"Oh, we elders have far more eyes and ears than any of you give us credit for. It's always safe to hedge your bets and assume we know everything," he says with a wink.

You can't help but wonder why you were chosen over several other names that are struck out on the list.

Ahote smiles warmly. "Ah Dena. Such a talented girl. Think for a moment, Elizar Evenwood. Can you truly envision Dena taking command of the pack in times of great stress and peril? No." He shakes his head. "Dena is an excellent scholar, capable of great things in a time not dominated by a fight for survival, but she is neither soldier nor leader.

"I understand that you may not want to shoulder this burden, but you must know that it's for the good of your people and your friends. Of course I cannot compel you to follow my plans, but before you give me an answer, please indulge me with one final test. Afterward you may stay or leave as your heart wills it."

One Final Test