Losing Control
In the morning.
Inside the tent, Julius sat cross-armed, his leg bouncing with impatience. His irritation was palpable as he stared at Wolfgang, who lay unconscious on a small, single bed.
What made things worse, and utterly unbearable for Julius, was the mess of thirty wolves crammed into the tent with them.
Fur floated in the air like clouds of dust, and the pungent smell of wild animals permeated everything. Wolf cubs gnawed on Julius' pant leg, growling and pulling at the hem with their sharp little teeth.
Julius clicked his tongue, swatting at the cubs, though they paid him no mind. "Ridiculous," he muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, Wolfgang stirred. His eyes blinked open, slowly coming to his senses. The wolves around him reacted immediately, tails wagging furiously, some even nudging closer to him.
Wolfgang groaned and sat up, glancing around the chaotic tent. "When did I fall asleep?" he mumbled. "Is the mission a success?"