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You howl out in a call to battle so fierce that all three wolves turn toward you for a moment, sniffing the air before lashing out at each other once again. So much for distracting them. With no other choice left but direct engagement, you shift into werewolf form, pushing yourself through the change as quickly as possible. Once your lupine senses take over, you stumble and nearly fall to the ground when you get a whiff of the pheromones in the air, thick with the call for rage and death. You close your eyes for a second and steady your breathing. Shake it off, Holstein, shake it off…When you open your eyes again you're back in control, but you can feel your sanity teetering on the brink of oblivion. You'll need to finish this fight fast!

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You dash in between the three wolves, trying to separate them from each other by forcing their focus onto yourself. That part of your strategy works as intended, but once their rage is centered on you, you don't have nearly enough strength or raw skill to fend them off on your own. One of your opponents manages to sweep your legs out while you concentrate on his two companions, and you hit the ground with a teeth-rattling thud. Two feral wolves loom above as you struggle to regain your feet, the third trying to elbow his way in to share the kill. You grit your teeth, preparing for a final strike when both wolves are suddenly knocked aside by a hurtling onyx missile. You leap back to your feet in time to see Bly and Inferi restraining the feral wolves.

"What was going on down there, Holstein?" Bly asks. "I was told that wolves were killing each other in the pit and I find you claw-deep into it? What the hell were you thinking?"

"I dove in here to break them up!"

"Why would you accuse me like that? I thought you knew me better, Bly."

"These three were killing each other and I wasn't about to let that happen."

"You weren't around, so someone had to step in and keep these idiots from killing each other!"

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Bly shakes her head and mutters to herself. "You could have gotten yourself killed, Holstein. Seriously. Even I wouldn't have jumped into that pit of vipers unless there was no other option—you have to think tactically!" She looks over her shoulder for Inferi. "They still in one piece?"

"Yup," Inferi grunts. "Got some pretty brutal wounds in 'em, but I've shrugged off worse. If you don't mind me saying, I think Holstein deserves some credit for jumping in. He's no wimp."

"He's strong," Bly says, breathing deep. "But stupid. Brave. But stupid." She sniffs as you wrinkle your muzzle. "Oh come on; you're tough enough to jump face-first into a deathtrap and my backhanded compliment's knocking you on your ass? You'll be fine." She licks your muzzle apologetically and whispers, "I was worried about you, dumb-ass. I can't have you dying on me. Not like that."

You nod. The dip in adrenaline is making you lightheaded, and you might have fallen if Bly didn't catch you.

"Okay, Bly," Inferi says. "They're all restrained. I'll go get my crew and we'll drag these idiots to the infirmary." She gives you an approving thumbs-up. "That was some true-ass shit, Holstein. Rock it, boy."

An Hour Later

You run the back of your paw through a thick field of grass, each blade tickling the sensitive hairs of your lupine form. After the events of the afternoon you'd wanted some time to gather your thoughts in peace, so you excused yourself from your companions with a hasty apology. The hill at the edge of Sonoma's camp is quiet for the moment, and the view out over the surrounding forest rivals any overlook you'd climbed back in Haven. Now you can understand how your return to the wilds was worth all the pain and heartache the pack had endured—all of it led to this place, a paradise really, compared to your old home. It feels right somehow, and your heart lightens as a primal aspect deep within you soars free over those treetops, and for now you're able to forget the lingering questions that drove you here in search of contemplation.

A brisk wind ruffles your red fur, carrying scents of decaying leaves mixed with the clean smell of evergreen, some form of wildlife just within your scent range—songbirds, probably a rabbit, and…wait…that smell doesn't belong at all. You flare your nostrils. The scent slowly grows stronger and soon it's unmistakable: a large group of humans is approaching through the woods!

You leap to your feet, stepping back as you scan the camp's perimeter. There! Movement in the scrub brush! A thundering roar cracks the silence and a stinging pain erupts on the right side of your neck. Suddenly feeling unsteady, you fall to one knee. Vision…swimming. You bring your paw up, brushing it against throbbing tissue and wet fur. I've been shot! A part of you recognizes that you should have already figured that out, but it's getting harder to think and you feel dizzy.

Falling to all fours, you force yourself into a lurching run, unsteady, but still faster than you'd be able to manage in human form. At the base of the hill, not far from the barracks, the pain begins to overwhelm you and a fearful howl rips its way from your wounded throat. You hear shouts of alarm and calls to arms, and over it all the popping and cracking of bones, grinding against one another as the camp sings in the atonal song of war.

Blackness overwhelms you. And all is silent.

Next Chapter

Chapter 6 Zealotry

"We've learned all we can from these creatures—the only question now is how to end them. Let me be frank, ladies and gentlemen. The difference between planned extinction and genocide is rhetorical. Call it what you must to soothe your bruised consciences, but the plan is moving forward." - General Greene, one week before the Battle of Haven and his death at the claws of General Rivera

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