by Jen Haeger
Tearing off the shredded remains of her shirt and struggling to regain control, Evelyn focused on David. He stood tall in front of Kim and Clem, teeth bared. A low, powerful growl rumbled up through his throat that Evelyn felt in her chest more than heard. Kim soon dropped her gaze to the ground, but Clem remained fixated on David, snarling, muscles taut, eyes feral. His lack of control obvious, Evelyn feared that Clem would attack David at any moment, and a primal desire to protect him flared in her chest. She could take Clem. He was distracted and didn’t know she was a threat, had probably forgotten she was there at all. Two steps and she’d be on him, one quick snap of her teeth and he’d be lame, then she’d glide away as he turned, just out of reach, while David went for his throat and… Evelyn caught hold of her emotions and turned her attack into a reassuring wolf-hand on Clem’s shoulder. He spun and snapped at her face. At the same moment, David shot forward to take Clem down, but Evelyn forced herself into David’s way as she narrowly avoided Clem’s teeth. David let out a frustrated and commanding bark but Evelyn ignored him, voicing a bark of her own and staring into Clem’s eyes. It’s me. It’s Evelyn. Her plaintive yips continued as she and Clem circled each other.
Evelyn thought there was a hint of recognition, but suddenly the rest of the team’s noses went up, sniffing the air, ears perked. Without taking her eyes off Clem, Evelyn listened and inhaled. The scent of foreign Wolfkin flooded her nostrils accompanied faintly by yips, barks, growls, snarls, and howls. No more time to worry about Clem; the stray army was here. The battle had begun. David barked to attract the team’s attention and pointed to each pair in turn as he edged in closer to Clem. Clem’s eyes lost their hint of humanity as they left Evelyn’s and he drove past David towards the incoming army. David hesitated, glanced at Evelyn then leapt through the trees after him. There was momentary confusion and unease within the team. Kim whined and shifted her weight back and forth, clearly wanting to follow Clem and David. Evelyn gave a sharp bark to focus the team, and motioned for them to spread out and follow the route that would herd the strays towards the deer meat drop. Taking up her position next to Kim, she began jogging, hoping that the deer drop would come before she had to fight any of the strays.
The forest was thick and Evelyn neither saw Clem and David, nor heard them over the racket that the stray army was making. Evelyn’s feelings teetered on a thin edge between terror and excitement until the first stray crested the hill a few hundred yards ahead. A male, black-furred Wolfkin with tiny white patches, he howled as soon as he spotted Kim and Evelyn, but the howl sounded wrong, somehow scratchy and muted. Even so, there was no mistaking the bloodlust in his eyes. Kim surged in front letting loose a snarl, but Evelyn sped up and nudged her, trying to aim their clash with the other Wolfkin as far towards the drop zone as possible. Evelyn didn’t smell any meat yet, and she wouldn’t have been able to see the flare through the thick canopy. Any time now, she thought.
They were only six feet from the stray when Evelyn spotted three more strays coming their way: all varying shades of brown. Knowing that she and Kim had no choice but to dispatch the black-furred stray quickly or be swarmed, she changed her tactic in mid-stride. She had intended to dodge to one side in order to draw the stray into a chase rather than a fight, but it was now too risky with three others almost on top of them. Instead, Evelyn dove low just as Kim smashed into the stray’s torso, and bit into the enemy Wolfkin’s thigh. A strained yowl escaped the stray’s throat as all three of them tumbled to the ground and Evelyn was thrown free. She rolled and popped up into a crouch.
The three strays were closing, but Kim didn’t seem to notice them as she wrestled on the ground with the black and white stray. She had her jaws locked on the other Wolfkin’s side, but he was thrashing and swiping her with his claws. Evelyn tasted blood, but it was not the sweet, intoxicating blood of prey, it was the bitter, salty blood of another predator, a flavor that would have made her spit if she’d had the ability. She barked at Kim and tried to draw the attention of the other three strays away from where Kim and the first stray still struggled on the ground. Kim responded to Evelyn’s bark by releasing the black and white Wolfkin and pushing away from it. Avoiding the downed stray’s attempt to grapple her legs, Kim was soon on her feet and by Evelyn’s side, but as the three fresh strays got closer, and the black and white Wolfkin regained his feet, Evelyn could see that the battle would be over for her and Kim almost before it began.
She howled in desperation and defiance, but held her ground. If she and Kim ran, it was likely that the strays could separate them and surround them, an assured death sentence. Then another Delta Team pair, one female and one male, exploded out of the brush to intercept the three oncoming strays. Evelyn yipped in gratitude and she gladly joined the other two friendly Wolfkin as Kim turned her attentions back to the injured stray. Evelyn swiped at the back of the smallest of the three strays who had jumped onto the back of the male Delta Team member, John? she thought, but the Wolkin held fast, trying to take John down as he fought against a larger stray. Evelyn bit into the softer, less protected leg muscles as she’d done with the first black and white stray, and grabbed onto his back, digging in her claws.
Evelyn jerked her head, and the werewolf dropped off John’s back, landing on top of her and howling in pain and fury. She had lost her grip with her claws but she still held onto the stray’s thigh with her teeth, until she felt a sharp pain as he clamped his own jaws down onto Evelyn’s shoulder. Releasing the stray’s thigh, she brought her head up and smashed it into his muzzle, causing him to release her shoulder and fall off her body. She kicked him in the face and then rolled so that she could rise into a squatting position. The stray seemed stunned by Evelyn’s kick, so Evelyn tensed her leg muscles and prepared to pounce and go for the stray’s throat. Even as she felt a red hot heat in her throat longing to be quenched by blood, Evelyn hesitated. The voice of mercy whispered in her ear. Innocent, it said, victim.
Evelyn wasn’t sure if the stray was incapacitated or if he would spring on her back the moment she turned away. Can I take that risk to save an innocent life? And what if this man isn’t innocent? We assume that the Vulke will send in the strays first to weaken us and overwhelm the Wahya side with superior numbers, but what if we’re wrong? What if this is a Vulke and not some poor stray forced to be part of the Vulke army? It was an impossible decision and there was no time to make it. Evelyn cursed internally. What the hell is taking the meat drop so long? Is it not working? The stray was righting himself, and would be on Evelyn in seconds. Feeling empty inside, Evelyn let her instincts take control and launched herself at her foe.
43
Nicolas paced before the growing pack of strays and scowled. Not as many had lived through the training process as he would have liked, and of those that remained, many were severely maimed, limping, missing fingers, or hunched in pain as they were forced from the trucks. Their bodies were battered and, although sinewy muscles flexed beneath their skin, they were too thin. I told them to feed the whelps more meat, he thought angrily. Nicolas tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. Though the strays were still chained and hooded, he couldn’t afford to let the other Vulke catch even the slightest whiff of failure, not now. Feeling the pull of the moon on each and every cell in his body, Nicolas knew that he had little time left before the strays would be gripped by the transformation. He halted, squared his shoulders, and cleared his throat.
“Whelps! Whatever you are thinking, whatever you’ve been told, listen to me now! Your freedom lies just a half mile inside of these trees. There your enemy waits to enslave you! Defeat them and you will…go…free!”
Eerie silence rang out after Nicolas’s speech. Though many of the strays strained at their bonds in response, just the memory of the shock collars prevented them from making any noise. Then one of the strays screamed as the change hit him. Twitching, he fell to the ground, taking the two strays chained next to him down as well. Smelling the sour reek of anxiety su
ddenly rolling off the strays, Nicolas watched dispassionately as several more of the strays succumbed to the change. Finally, he raised his hand and gave the signal for the thirty other assembled Vulke, his lieutenants, to unchain the strays.
His lieutenants responded immediately, though Nicolas could see trepidation in their eyes. Though they worked in pairs, one with keys and one with a cattle prod, this was still the most dangerous moment of the whole procedure as they would have to get close enough to the strays that one might lash out. Staying well back from the fray, Nicolas felt his pulse quickening as his desire to yield to the transformation became more insistent. Surveying his lieutenants’ progress, he willed his body to remain human. Then he spotted one of the strays, who had been unchained but was not in the thralls of the change yet, reach up with shaking hands and remove his hood. He was an older man, perhaps in his early sixties, but still in excellent physical condition despite his greying hair and near month of captivity. His eyes locked onto the Vulke who had released him a few moments ago and he tensed as if to attack, but then spotted the other Vulke with the cattle prod and paused.
The stray then caught sight of Nicolas standing before them, apparently unarmed. Daring him to make his move, Nicolas simply glared at him. With murder in his eyes, the elder stray shot forward and spun out of reach of the nearest cattle prod as he came at Nicolas. Nicolas’s body screamed for the change in the face of the oncoming stray, urging him that he could rip the man limb from torso when he was in Wolfkin form, and Nicolas nearly gave in, but gritted his teeth in resistance knowing that, in the few seconds it would take for him to transform, the stray could be on him and tearing out his eyes. A lieutenant lapping at his heels, the stray was fifteen feet away, then ten, then five. Nicolas tightened his muscles in anticipation, but then the stray’s whole body went rigid. He shrieked and tumbled to the ground where he writhed and flailed in the throes of the transformation.
Nicolas snorted and ordered his lieutenant back to help with the rest of the pack. He liked that old stray. Maybe he’d survive this battle and live to be a Vulke. As the seconds tumbled past, the lieutenants continued to unchain the strays, but Nicolas could see the strain in their muscles. It wouldn’t be long before they too would have to succumb.
“Faster!” he screamed, his voice raw from his own efforts to delay turning.
Then, the lieutenant with the cattle prod dropped to his knees, and Nicolas was forced to rush forward to take his place. Nearly three-fourths of the strays were unchained now, and many were fully transformed. Though a few were fighting among themselves or attacking other still changing strays, Nicolas’s last words to them must have had at least some effect, because most of those that were now in Wolfkin form were loping into the forest towards the Wahya lines. Wielding the cattle prod recently dropped by his lieutenant, Nicolas broke up several of the fights, but these strays ignored his verbal orders to follow their fellow strays in to the woods. As another two lieutenants were lost to the change, Nicolas cursed internally and screamed again at the remaining lieutenants.
“Hurry you mongrels!”
Nicolas was consumed with the pain of holding back the change. His bloodshot eyes streamed hot tears, his chest felt like it was bound by iron bands, and pressure filled his head such that he thought it might burst. Back when he was still a new whelp, part of his special training directly under Taras had dealt with holding back the change, but he had never repressed it for so long under such stress on the night of the full moon. Finally, the last stray’s chains were unlocked and Nicolas gave in to the transformation. After the pain of keeping it in check, the pain of the actual change almost felt pleasurable. Immediately the desire to lead the strays overwhelmed him, and though he knew that he was supposed to stay back and let the strays thin out the enemy ranks, Nicolas couldn’t help himself. His instinct took over and he forced his way to the front of the pack, barking, snarling, and tearing the remaining brawling strays apart in his path.
He glanced back to make sure his Vulke lieutenants were pushing the strays forwards but, as Nicolas burst through the ranks in front of the strays and let out a demanding howl, the last strays finally began to advance as one. Rushing into the woods, Nicolas couldn’t yet smell the enemy, but his scouts told him that they were out there, just a half a mile away. In his ears, Nicolas heard Taras’s voice chastising him, calling him a fool for putting himself at risk and not using the strays as a shield, but that was not what his instincts told him to do. Instinct told him to be at the head of this pack, to show them how to fight, to show them he was strong and fit, and to show them that he deserved to lead them and that they should obey him.
Nicolas didn’t have to look behind him to know that the strays were following him. He could hear their progress through the brush, feel the heat of seventy-seven bodies, and smell the musky scent of fur and the pungent odor of sweat. Inside his own body, the rage churned like magma on the brink of an eruption. Energy flowed through him, making each stride seem effortless. As he rocketed through the forest, the branches whipping past his face and brambles scratching his legs were beneath his notice. Through the tunnel of his narrowed vision Nicolas swore that he could see the heat of the oncoming Wahya, and it made his hackles rise. He emitted another howling war cry and increased his pace, though he thought that he’d already been sprinting at the boundary of his ability.
In his wildness, Nicolas nearly attacked one of his own strays, but at the last moment he caught a whiff of the other Wolfkin’s slightly tainted Vulke scent. Frustrated that it was not an enemy, Nicolas snarled and charged ahead of the stray. He bounded down a ravine then up the other side, and as he crested the lip of the depression, finally he spotted an enemy Wolfkin. The reek of Wahya flooded Nicolas’s nostrils and the rage spiked his vision with red. The Wahya was running straight at Nicolas, and he obliged the other Wolfkin by neither slowing nor altering his course. Just before they collided, Nicolas noticed something that filled him with a wicked joy. This was going to be an easy kill. The other Wolfkin had a slight limp.
44
Evelyn barely had time to register what she’d done when the hairs on the back of her neck bristled and her nostrils were filled with the scent of smoke. She looked up from the body of the stray and saw an orange glow emanating from the forest all around her. Fire! Evelyn’s animal heart hammered in fear. She, Kim, and the other Delta Team members had won the fight with the four strays, though one of John’s eyes was closed and bloody and the other woman was looking haggard. Their rescuers were alert to the danger surrounding them, sniffing the air and whining, but Kim, still distracted by the barely moving black and white stray, gave no indication that she was aware of the fire. Howling to catch Kim’s attention, Evelyn tried to suppress the mindless panic rising within her. Her howl was soon joined by John and his partner, and became an alarm, a warning to all within earshot.
Kim paused, her ears and nose twitching, spotted Evelyn, then eyes widening, finally noticed the fire around them. She let out a series of high-pitched bark-whines and her muscles tensed, ready to bolt. Evelyn barked sharply and motioned Kim to her side almost at the same moment the other two friendly Wolfkin fled. Though John gave Evelyn a backwards glance with his one good eye as he ran, anger still washed over Evelyn as she watched them leave her and disappear into the brush. How can they abandon Kim and me? But then, as Evelyn took in another deep breath and her own panic surged again with the scent of the smoke, she understood. As soon as Kim was within a few paces, Evelyn’s resolve cracked and she turned and ran as well. Though she tried to think logically and gauge where the fire was least thick, her legs pumped and took her in a direction of their own accord. The smoke was thicker now and the chaos and cacophony of battle was amplified by the crackling of the fire and frightened howls from all around. Evelyn had no idea whether she was running back toward the Wahya’s camp or straight into the Vulke forces, and could scarcely tell shadowy friend from foe now that her senses were overrun by the fire.
&nbs
p; The blaze was raging all around and every time Evelyn thought that she and Kim had found an escape route, they came upon another wall of flames and had to alter their course. Had they never intended to fight? Just draw the Wahya and Amaruq into a trap? Evelyn had no energy to commit to these thoughts as she sprinted on, but despair seeped into her heart. She didn’t see David or Clem or Roberto or any other known friendly Wolfkin as they ran. Had the fire started behind them on the Wahya side or in front from the Vulke side? Oh, no David! Clem! Please God, let them have already gotten clear of the fire. Evelyn’s pace slowed with these thoughts and she was blind-sided by a Wolfkin—with singed and smoking tan fur—leaping out of the smog. In the brief instant that he was in view before he slammed into her, Evelyn could somehow sense that this was another stray.
She tried to brace for the impact, but the attack happened so quickly that she was bowled over and her fall backwards also knocked Kim, who was following close behind, off her feet. Evelyn crashed to the ground and just managed to wedge an arm in between the maddened Wolfkin’s teeth and her neck in time to save herself a quick and bloody end. They were only a few feet from the nearest flames, but the stray took no notice of the peril as he pressed his muzzle closer to Evelyn’s face. Snarling, his bloody saliva dripped onto her snout as she whipped her head back and forth and flailed her legs to try to knock the stray off of her. As a hot wind blew the fire ever closer, Evelyn’s strength began to ebb from the lack of oxygen. The flames transformed before her eyes, at first dancing and then swirling. She was so hot and the fire was too close.
