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The other, younger wolves can take care of themselves, but the elders are in need of protecting. There are so many years of collected knowledge that could be lost in an instant—you simply cannot accept such an outcome, not even as a possibility. Hanska gasps an exhausted thanks as you lift him into the truck, as does the bony elder, Nakai, who feels as though he may weigh less than one-hundred pounds even in werewolf form. Several other elders hop into the back of the truck with your assistance, each muttering words of grateful or grudging thanks depending on how rattled they are. The earth below your feet rumbles as you assist the final elder, a frail wolf named Mitena. She looks you dead in the eyes, and while you can feel her gratitude, you can also sense her mortal terror.

"It's too much for old bones," she says, her voice leadened with weariness. "Sometimes I fear that this is all we've left you younger generations. The Great Spirit has abandoned us."

You shake your head, not sure what to say. Philosophical questions will have to be addressed later, when none of you are in mortal peril.

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After a final look for more passengers, you pull the trailer's doors shut behind you. There are no windows, no way to view the fighting outside. For all you know, the humans are already upon you, ready to rake the trailer with automatic weaponfire. It's a disconcerting feeling, and from the muffled whimpers of several other wolves you can tell you're not the only one picturing a death-squad lined up behind the opaque walls. You nearly lose your footing as the truck rumbles forward, its wheels catching for a moment in the gravel below due to the weight of its new cargo. There had been six cargo trucks, but each one is carrying a full load of prisoners—the going will be slow, and a dark part of your mind despairs, wondering how the drivers plan to escape a horde of military vehicles.

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Maker files out from the crowd, falling in toward the back of the trailer with you. Her strange hood is off now, and she's looking quite pleased with herself. "You made it! Good. We'll need you in the days ahead."

"What do you mean?" you ask, irritated but almost happy that she's interrupted your desperate thoughts.

"Those mercenaries fighting the military? Those were adherents of your father's anti-werewolf zealotry. They call themselves the HSM—the Human Sovereignty Movement. And they were here waiting for us; they knew where we'd be coming out. Luckily for us, it looks like the military spotted them right before we got out."

Something explosive slams into the trailer by the rear door, throwing you and Maker to the floor in a tangled heap as metal rends and tears with piercing shrieks. When you regain your feet, you're staring out the back of the trailer through a ragged, smoking hole. The wolves beside you are stunned, barely able to move, and you certainly can't blame them. Through the jagged window you witness a surreal battle taking place. Three helicopters swoop low from behind your convoy, down over the road toward your pursuers, the rattling fire of their machine guns raking over the human military and HSM alike. Twisting smoke trails fan out behind synchronized missile strikes, and one by one the military vehicles behind you explode into flames.

Maker crouches back away from the hole and wipes sweat from her brow. "I'll be damned. General Rivera actually came through."

"What?" you say, stunned. "How—"

Maker pulls the hood back over her head, eyes still on the sky. She looks ridiculous, but doesn't seem to care. You can barely hear her over the deafening sound of high-caliber weaponfire. The truck jolts off the edge of the road, one side's wheels spinning above the ground and nearly toppling before righting itself again. "A measure of last resort," Maker says, shaken. "Rivera had to balance keeping herself hidden with the success of the mission." Another vehicle tenaciously following your convoy explodes into flames as the helicopters fan out to either side. "Looks like she chose us. We'd better hope she's as good at spinning excuses as she is at blowing things up. If the government discovers that we have werewolf operatives embedded in the highest ranks of the military, we're risking outright civil war. At best, a new age of McCarthyism—humans accusing other humans of being werewolves for political gain. Chaos." She pauses for a moment, and incredibly, she breaks out in a smile. "It's brilliant."

"What do you mean?"

"A civil war. Fear, distrust, uncertainty." Fire from a nearby explosion flickers red in her eyes. "That may be just what we need."

Next Chapter

Chapter 4 Respite

"Our ancestors fought by brute force and the claw, but this new war will be won through cunning and deception. The human wartime apparatus is too powerful to be defeated, and thus our only option is to turn it against its masters." - Major Rivera, two years before the Jackson Slaughter

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"You think they're ever going to give her a moment to rest?" Dena asks as the two of you lean against one of many red-brick houses dotting Sonoma's base of operations. The two of you watch the door of a re-purposed tool shed which currently houses a prisoner of war. Sonoma hasn't resorted to violent coercion in her hunt for information yet, but you aren't the only wolf who's noticed the packleader's nerves fraying around the edges as she works the prisoner over every hour on the hour. Seeing Dena safe again after the breakout had been a relief, but at times like this it seems nothing will ever get back to normal.

"She has Ahote in there now," you reply, cocking an ear in an attempt to catch a few stray words. "Sounds like he's keeping things calm."

"Offering a kindly face for a change," Dena says, crossing her arms. "I think we all deserve respite. Even those who tried to do us harm."

"She was wearing an HSM uniform when Inferi grabbed her." You twitch uncomfortably. "My father's followers."

Dena winces. "Sonoma's going to want to know what she was doing there. How Williams's anti-werewolf fanatics knew where we'd be coming out."

"It's worth knowing how they got there," you say hesitantly. "Sonoma isn't the only one who thinks it's disturbing that they were waiting for us. If the military hadn't noticed them, we might not have made it out alive."

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