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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 with recognition. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it, apparently reconsidering his comment. While he's stunned, you have a momentary advantage, and you calmly appeal to his sense of moral decency. He can't simply execute a peacefully protesting elder on the streets.

The colonel's eyes narrow, and he bares his teeth, the muzzle of his gun shaking for a moment before he lowers it. He spits a wad of dark phlegm to the pavement before retreating to the line of his troops, gesturing them away.

Ahote sighs in relief, a tremor running through his body. "Thank you, Decaarr. I was willing to sacrifice myself, but I was hoping it wouldn't come to that. Don't relax yet, I think things are going to get worse."

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.

You move quickly through the crowd, stopping here and there to whisper the right words into the right ears to organize a retreat. By the time Ahote and Haken realize what's happening, the protesters around them have already pulled back, leaving them exposed along with two other wolves who refused to be moved.

"Cowards! Weaklings!" Haken roars at his retreating kin. "I'm ashamed to be counted among you!"

Seizing on this moment of distraction, Colonel Williams pulls one of the remaining protesters forward, yanking the fully transformed wolf off its feet in an astonishing display of strength. "Some of you creatures know what's good for you," Williams snarls. "But know this." He lifts a pistol to the frightened wolf's head and pulls the trigger. A thin red mist covers the colonel's face as the wolf's body slumps to the ground, unmoving. "Further displays of disobedience will be met with lethal consequences."

Ahote screams in feral anguish and leaps forward to the fallen wolf, cradling his head in his hands as though he could somehow heal him if only he possessed the strength of will. The elder stares up at Williams, hate in his eyes.

"You will not break us. You hear me! You're the monsters, not us!"

Williams turns his back on Ahote. It's all you can do to keep yourself from rushing forward and striking the colonel down from behind.

"You just keep telling yourself that, Ahote," Williams says. "Maybe one day you'll actually believe it." He disappears into the assembled pacification squads, signaling for them to retreat.

A wave of confusion and quiet whispers filters through the crowd as the soldiers fall back toward their base. You hear one wolf behind you say hesitantly, "Did we win?" You wish you could answer her. You faced off the soldiers, but after Williams's act of savagery, it doesn't taste like victory. It tastes like ashes.

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