17

Dena looks up with a smile as you settle into the seat next to her. "I was hoping you'd make it tonight," she says as she returns her gaze to the front, eyes locked on the stage. "A little bit of normalcy and entertainment's done wonders for my nerves. I read all about the Sheep Eaters over the last week, they're really quite fascinating! Elder Ahote let me borrow a book about them when I asked him about the name of the play. They were part of the Shoshone tribe, called the Tukudeka now, I think. I love learning about the history of our homeland, don't you?"

Dena shrugs. "Well, I'm still glad that you made it out to the play. I think you may change your mind once you learn a thing or two."

As you settle in to watch the performance, you're soon riveted by the way in which the Sheep Eaters' story mirrors your pack's history and your people as a whole.

The native humans were a subset of the Shoshone tribe, named for their practice of migrating along with their primary food source, the bighorn sheep. The Sheep Eaters had been mocked by the men who displaced them from their home, and fantastical tales were spun about them, even by Yellowstone's own rangers. They'd been called pygmies and renegades, and when that wasn't enough to dehumanize them, they'd been labeled feeble-minded as well.

It's no secret that this is what many of the humans think of werewolves, at least in a post-Purge world. The few pieces of media allowed into Haven through the military censors have portrayed werewolves as mindless savages, best locked away or disposed of. The elders assure you that not all humans think this way about your people, but it's a hard thing to let go of sometimes.

When the curtain closes and an intermission is announced, most of the wolves get up from their chairs and wander outside to stretch their legs. You stand up from your chair, massaging a kink in your back, waiting for the show to resume.

Within a few minutes the doors reopen, and new seats are chosen and slightly rearranged. If you want to talk to someone else for the second half of the performance, now would be the best time to get to know them better.

Jolon gives you a curious glance before his eyes flick back to the stage, darting back and forth, alertness belying his relaxed appearance. "Did you know," he says, never taking his eyes off the front of the theater, "that there are at least two human government soldiers in this building right now?"

You flinch reflexively, shifting about, trying to locate the intruders.

Jolon's gaze flickers back to you, almost overly calm, somehow making it clear he needs you to relax and act normal. "You won't see them unless they want to be seen. To their credit, they're actually very good. For humans, of course." He's quiet for a moment as the play begins. "I don't think we need to worry," he whispers to you over the actors' performance. "They're here to observe something, not shut us down."

You're unsure how to respond at first, but eventually you get your wits about you and reply.

You're not sure what you're seeing. You nudge Jolon and point him in the direction of the shadow.

He hisses a sharp intake of breath and slaps your hand down so fast you never even raised it to the proper height.

"You trying to let them know that I'm on to them?" he growls. "You have a lot to learn. Pointing them out to me is the surest way to get yourself spotted. Keep your head down on the stage and leave the watching to me, okay?"

Next

You wake with a start, drenched in sweat despite the morning chill.

Your dreams were a chaotic jumble of frightening images; you remember looking up at a man in a surgical mask holding a scalpel as two orderlies strapped you down.

"This won't hurt a bit," the doctor said as he began cutting into your chest. You can still feel the phantom pain of the blade as the dream slowly fades. You groan. Another day. Another chance to change the world. And it's a weekend; no lessons and no work. You have the whole day to yourself.

Your stomach gurgles and you groan in pain as a spasm runs down your back along your spine. You've been feeling odd ever since you returned from your expedition to the military base, although the occasional twitches haven't been too difficult to deal with.

A sharp knock comes from your door. Mourning the passing of your all-too-brief period of peace and quiet, you quickly throw on some clothes and open the door. Dena stands there, panting and out of breath.

"I'm sorry, Elizar Evenwood, I didn't know where else to go. My dad was yelling this morning—he woke me up when it was still dark out. One of the adults didn't come back from the humans' warehouse last night. I think it was one of his friends. He kept talking about 'making them pay.' I waited until he calmed down before I came out of my room. He tried to pretend like nothing had happened. He wouldn't even tell me the truth." Tears well up in her eyes. "How can we keep living like this? What if my family disappears next?"

You hug Dena awkwardly, but nothing you say seems to comfort her. You just don't seem to have the proper words. She pulls away and stares at the ground with reddened eyes as her tears turn to sniffles and eventually stop. She looks up and tries to smile.

"I know you mean well, Elizar Evenwood, but maybe there's just nothing we can do."

You spend a few more minutes talking to Dena, trying to keep things light and cheer her up as much as possible. Eventually she heads for the door.

"I should probably get out of your hair—I'm sure you have plans for this morning. Maybe we could hang out later tonight?"

You nod noncommittally, your mind still hazy from a lack of quality sleep. Dena smiles, heading off on her own as you prepare your breakfast and make plans for the day. You should probably see what Ahote wanted from you the other day. Ignoring his summons once might be overlooked, but if you make a habit of it, the old wolf might not take kindly to your impertinence. You're sure there will be time to train in the dojo after your meeting.

Then again, who wants to listen to a lecture from a stuffy old wolf when you could be outside living your life? You also wonder just how Tiva's been holding up. You haven't seen her since your lessons the other day. Hopefully she's healed up properly since being blown off the bridge alongside you.