A period of newfound turmoil is a duplicitous thief, the hours you feed into it simultaneously expanding and contracting; time seems to slow, every choice an agony of indecision while the world moves all too fast around you, giving the impression of a slow-motion crawl within a whirlwind of otherwise frenetic activity.
The days immediately following the declaration of martial law seemed as unreal then as they do to you now, standing atop your favorite perch a block removed from the pack's town square, two months after your world turned upside down. A pacification squad patrols the darkened street below, intercepting any werewolves they encounter, verbally assaulting them with a standard litany of questions: "Name? Identification number? Business and destination?"
It was child's play to evade the human soldiers, but the pack quickly learned the advantage of being seen and recorded on a regular basis after squads started breaking into the homes of wolves they hadn't seen in several days, accusing them of secrecy and sedition.
Daily lessons and workplace hours are strictly enforced, not only by the humans, but by the Haven Assembly as well. The adult wolves make little effort to hide the fact that they are being pressured to keep workplace production up and running despite constant interference from military patrols.
It was only a matter of time before the pack decided to push back. The secret meeting taking place in the building below your lookout is where the revolution begins.
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