The sky was a grey, glass ceiling. Light spilt from a punctured hole above, simulating the image of a sun. A semblance of an atmosphere above was needed to sell the illusion of a free world, hence the sparse clouds. They were like torn cotton floating down a muddled river. The air breathed metals fumes that smelled akin to the rusted coughs of many broken machines. Whenever the cold breeze came they seemed to signify an oncoming death, but it never came. What remained were unseen presences opting to stagnate in limbo, refusing to rot. They weren’t dead, but they were far from being alive either. They only took space from the living that they didn’t occupy. They weren’t there nor were they anywhere.

The horizon had no door to escape to nor any walls to climb over. The glass ceiling only seemed to scale outwards forever. None saw it, but everyone knew. Everyone also knew not to attempt the impossible, and simply live as the currents took them.

Though not everyone was lucky enough to have someone to share the experience with.

A wolf cub and a tiger cub strolled across a small mart.

The temperature of the tiled, ceramic floors neared subzero territory, so much so that any contact with bare flesh would wake even a geriatric sloth in a coma; whether from slumber or straight to death. Lining in neat orders across the tiled floors were low racks and shelves, housing fresh produce, canned food, hygienic commodities, and anything the average household needed. They only stocked the bare essentials; there were only a handful of premium items, much less branded products. Whatever was available was the minimum need of any family of at least three.

The tiger cub was dressed for the occasion, sporting a red beanie over her head to cover her ears whilst triple-layered with an undershirt, a winter jacket and a coat. Her pants were loose and thick, complimented by a pair of bulky boots that seemed two sizes too big for her. The wolf cub had nothing but a plain white shirt and a pair of skinny jeans that barely reached his ankle. He didn’t wear any shoes, and they still looked the same size as the tiger cub’s boots.

The tiger cub had her arm hooked around the wolf cub’s elbow as they walked side by side, much to his timidity; though he hadn't made a single voice of complaint so far. The tiger cub carried a backpack with her, while the wolf cub had a basket in his other arm; the upper half filled with an assortment of groceries and the bottom half just a base of potatoes.

The wolf cub always enjoyed his time in the supermarket. The air was clean, unlike the dust-choked atmosphere outside. The floor, smooth and cool, felt comfortable to his bare feet, as opposed to the endless barrage of pebbles and rocks and other minute trinkets he'd get beneath his soles from a simple stroll outside.

It was also a haven for him. Outside was fair game. Inside, rules were applied. He couldn't stay forever, of course, but a temporary sanctuary was still a sanctuary. The wolf cub didn't have much grounds to complain on in the first place anyway.

He was always spoilt for choice whenever he passed the racks, especially at the foods section. He pondered much on whether to get the canned sardines or the tinned tunas. They weren't any Feral pork or beef, but they still cost much. It just so happened that he saved enough of his allowance to buy both. Yet again, he wouldn't be able to accumulate this much for another three weeks. To the flow of time for the average adolescent, it'll be akin to three whole months. Thus, a difficult decision had to be made; one that would include difficult financial preplanning and considerations of one's potential losses over the other.

"Get the sardines," the tiger cub suggested, "You already got the tuna last month."

The wolf cub heeded her advice and dropped a flat can of sardines into his basket.

The tiger cub asked, “What’s next?”

The wolf cub stopped to wonder for a second. After a second, he turned his head towards the tiger cub and shook it.

The tiger cub glanced towards the wolf cub’s basket.

She asked, “You sure you don’t need more potatoes?”

The wolf cub shook his head again.

“We pay now,” he said.

The two cubs made a beeline towards the payment counter.

A musk deer manned the cash register with the attitude of someone who wouldn’t care if the world ended tomorrow. If one judged him solely by his eyes, they wouldn’t be able to tell if he’s dead or alive. He slumped over the counter with slack shoulders, picking his tusks with his finger as his tired gaze lingered at the entrance of the mart. Even as the wolf cub and the tiger cub approached, he barely made a sign of acknowledgement aside from a furtive glance towards their general direction.

The wolf cub raised the basket and dropped it in front of the musk deer. With great lethargy, the musk deer slipped his hand across the counter and held the basket. He leaned over it, staring at the two cubs standing before him.

He moaned, “When did you come in?”

“J-Just now,” the wolf cub replied.

The tiger cub chimed in, “You didn’t see us ten minutes ago?”

“I’d rather not, then or now,” he answered, pointing towards the tiger cub “And what are you doing here, again?”

She asked, “Is it a problem?”

“It better not going to be,” the musk deer replied.

“Then better get bagging,” she said.

The musk deer sighed and pulled the basket to him. He glanced inwards for a moment before turning towards the wolf cub.

He asked, “Same as last week?”

“Y-Yea,” the wolf cub answered.

“You sure?”

“Uh…”

The musk deer sighed again and picked up the barcode scanner. The two cubs watched as he fished out item after item from the basket and transferred them into one giant plastic bag, regardless of category. He replaced the filled basket with one large and bulging sack of groceries. He then turned towards the cash register and punched in some numbers.

“It’ll be this much,” the musk deer said as he pointed towards the digital display sitting above the machine. It held three figures and two more behind a decimal point. None of them was a zero.

The wolf cub glanced towards it and swallowed a big gulp.

The tiger cub leaned in from behind and asked, “You got enough?”

The wolf cub reached into his pockets and pulled out a fraying wallet. He opened it up and checked his notes. They were an assortment of small notes, and he had a lot of them. He swallowed his second big gulp.

He counted through the notes for a few seconds. Then he lost track. He tried counting them again, this time lasting for half a minute. He jumbled the numbers in his head and somehow landed on a four-figure amount. A mixture of panic and frustration began seeping into the wolf cub's head.

The musk deer stared at the wolf cub with the attention of a worker watching paint dry. He watched the cub struggle in silence, occasionally letting out a visible yawn, further fueling the cub's already heightened agitation.

The tiger cub sat on the opposite end of the spectrum. Whatever was going through the wolf cub's head, she was able to read it on his face. She leaned in over his shoulder with one palm rubbing down his back.

She asked, "Need help?"

"I-I can do it," the wolf cub stammered.

The musk deer chimed in with a sour voice, "Give it up, kid. You'll be here all day. Let your girlfriend do it for-"

"Hey," the tiger cub shot out at the musk deer, "He's concentrating."

The musk deer said nothing, rolling his eyes and going back to his routine.

The wolf cub tried counting them once more.

It was then when another group entered the scene.

They were a rowdy gang chattering at a decibel impossible to ignore. They stood at a near-uniform height. The tallest within the gang had no more than half a head's advantage over the shortest. The entourage had no more than half a dozen members, but the way they flocked made it feel twice that number. An average step wouldn't be taken without one of them kicking a leg and swinging an arm.

The wolf cub drew an eye towards them. They were a collection of medium-sized carnivores; all boys, with no girls in sight. He recognized none of them, and he lived in a small town. They dressed in heavy jackets and baggy pants. For a split second, the wolf cub felt like an outcast. The feet department didn't help either when everyone's soles were made of thick rubber and not an organic dermatological equivalent of an elephant's hide.

The wolf cub was about to glance away when something else caught his attention instead. That something was someone. Someone familiar.

Walking amongst the group was a feline the wolf cub recognized. Head down and silent; sharp-eared with a pale coat of fur.

A lynx.

The wolf cub darted his eyes back to his wallet before the visual contact became mutual. He buried his face deep into his wallet, his snout practically touching the faux leather and started counting again. The numbers couldn’t register no matter how many notes he thumbed through.

He kept counting regardless.

The gang gave no attention to the others that may be sharing space with them. Anyone within earshot range was their audience. Whoever their actions or words affected didn’t exist to them. The world was their oyster, and they were the only fishermen at sea.

The wolf cub kept counting.

They rambled their way past the counter, going towards the shelves where, by some miraculous grace, would block out some of the noise.

A few moments later, the noise stopped abruptly, relieving the place with temporary silence.

But it wasn’t the shelves that did it.

The wolf cub kept counting.

Another pair of footsteps began emerging from the soundscape, this time belonging to an individual. They were light and slow, growing louder as they approached from behind.

The wolf cub gave up counting. He grabbed everything in his wallet and dumped it on the counter without a care in the world. He frantically reached towards the plastic bag.

He stuttered as he wrapped his fingers around the bag’s handle, “Return for c-change next ti-”

A hand grabbed onto the wolf cub’s outstretched arm.

The wolf cub flinched and froze.

A voice came from the side, “Wolf boy. Brother.”

Its words carried a shallow, nasal depth that seemed to pronounce itself deeper than it was. Casual, they spoke, but to the wolf cub’s ears, they were anything but.

The wolf cub looked down towards the hand. Its grip was nowhere near the strength of an adult’s, but it wasn’t weak either. It had all the intentions, but letting go wasn’t one of them. He traced the arm with his eyes towards the body.

He found another wolf standing beside him. He was the tallest of the gang and stood shorter than the wolf cub by just a bare hair’s difference. His body was covered under a tarp of prickling snow, at times almost colourless under the sunlight’s gleam. His dark eyes and nose served as the only minor contrasts to his appearance, like rigid charcoal pieces among soft cotton.

If the white wolf’s expression spelt anything, it was unwanted trouble.

“Calm down. No need to hurry,” he said, pulling the wolf cub’s arm away from the plastic bag, “You’ve got all day to count your cha-”

The tiger cub chimed in from the side, pushing the white wolf away from the wolf cub. She grabbed him by the wrist and held it high above her head.

She asked with gritted teeth, “Hell you doing?”

The white wolf stared down at the tiger cub and asked back, “Hell are you doing? What’s your problem?”

With a free arm, the tiger cub dropped her bag from her shoulder to her elbow and arched her hand into the opened zipper, “This. This is my problem.”

From behind, a panicked voice broke out from amongst, catching everyone’s attention in an instant.

It came from the quiet lynx from before. He shouted out, “Her bag; she’s got a weapon in ther-”

As the tiger cub was distracted, the white wolf relinquished her grip off his wrist, pulling his arm away from her. It caught the tiger cub off guard as her whole body was flung towards the white wolf like a sheet of paper whisked away by a passing wind. In an opportunistic move, the white wolf shot his arm out and snatched the bag away from the tiger cub. Before she could react, the white wolf bent his elbows and slammed his shoulders against the tiger cub, sending her on a one-way collision towards the counter.

By the edge of his claws, the wolf cub managed to catch the tiger cub from her jacket and scooped her into his embrace just before she slammed into the counter. Instead, the side of her snout slammed against the wolf cub’s chest. It rocked both of them with the force of a head-on car crash. By some miracle, the two managed to hold their balance and not hurtle to the floor.

The wolf cub was unfazed and upright still, holding the tiger cub by her shoulder whilst the tiger cub herself had to brace herself using her fists to keep knees from sinking onto the floor.

The wolf cub looked down to his chest and asked, “You okay?”

Panting, the tiger cub looked up and gave a wry smile. Behind it, however, hid a fit of shaking anger. Her eyes were crossed as her pupils burnt in fury.

From the side, the white wolf had one hand holding the tiger cub’s bag with the other grabbing onto its contents as he lifted it above his head.

He muttered, “Holy…”

It was a submachine gun. A boxy, angular weapon with edges sharper than knives, lines as sleek as steel, texture darker than night, and an aura of pure devastation. It was the size of the white wolf’s torso. His fists could barely cover the grip, much less reach for the trigger. The white wolf laid his gaze onto the gun as if he’d unearthed a long-lost treasure of untold riches. His snout broke into a grin, revealing the sharp hides hiding beneath his furled skin.

It was a magnet for stares. Everyone took a look at it, be it with the eyes of amazement, terror, excitement, or a combination of the three. For the tiger cub, however, it was frustration. She shook her shoulders from the wolf cub’s grasp and stomped towards the white wolf.

She shouted, “Hey-”

The two wolves on site reacted in different ways. The white wolf drew his eyes towards the storming tiger and turned his longing gaze into that of contempt in a flip of a switch. He threw his arm in a forceful, vicious arc and aimed the gun sideways towards her. The sights weren’t lined up, but the muzzle was close enough to the target to warrant a blind fire.

The wolf cub, however, was a split second faster. He lunged towards the tiger cub, clutching her jacket from the back in a rigid fist and cranked his arm behind him. In a whiplash of a motion, the tiger cub was flung away from the white wolf and back towards the counter, with the subject in question having no more than a quarter of a second to process the events unfolded. At the same time, the wolf cub threw his free arm up and made a desperate reach towards the gun.

The wolf cub was half an inch short of grabbing the gun’s barrel. All he could manage was to hold up his palm to block the muzzle. If that didn’t work, he had his body.

Half a second later, everyone’s eyes caught up with the turn of events. All were silent as they witnessed the standoff between the two wolves, one with a gun and the other with his bare flesh to contend with. The white wolf was dumbfounded to see the tiger cub storming towards him in one moment, only to find the wolf cub staring down at him from behind a palm, but his focus remained steeled. The wolf cub himself exhibited no more than panic and anticipation for the white wolf’s next move.

A moment passed, with not one party making a single move.

“Hey,” a sound came from behind the wolf cub. It was the tiger cub’s voice. He looked behind him, finding the tiger cub whispering towards the musk deer behind the counter, who’d been watching everything with his eyes at an opened width never before seen by the wolf cub, like a window with no blinds. He was so engrossed by the sight before him that his ears were rendered deaf for a moment.

“Hey,” the tiger cub called out again. This time, she managed to snap the musk deer from his spell. Sort of. His eyes were still open doorways as they glanced towards the tiger cub.

“You’re an adult,” she whispered, “Do something.”

Something, the musk deer did. As soon as the tiger cub spoke to him, he reached underneath the counter and pulled out something sharp and metallic.

It was a bunch of keys.

He turned behind him where a door sat at the back of the counter. He unlocked the doorknob, swung the door open, stepped inside and slammed the door shut. There was a click after that, signalling a lock. Nothing has been heard from him since.

“Wuss,” was all the tiger cub could say.

“Hey, wolf boy. Brother,” the white wolf called out, still pointing the tiger cub’s gun at the wolf cub, “Can I call you brother? We’re the same, right?”

The wolf cub didn’t answer.

“Brother,” the white wolf said, “Our tour guide here says you’re someone he knows. Someone we’re looking for in this town. One of a few. He told us he could only find one, for now, but he also told me that if we find that someone, he could tell us where everyone else is.”

The wolf cub stayed quiet.

The white wolf continued, “He told me that someone’s a black wolf. Tall. No shoes. Short snout. Probably goes around a lot with a tiger.”

The wolf cub remained silent.

“Say,” the white wolf asked, “Is your name-”

“T-Tein,” the wolf cub blurted out.

There was a pause among the two.

The white wolf asked, “What?”

“Tein,” the wolf cub repeated, “Tein’s w-with me. With us. Me and her.”

The white wolf was quiet for a moment.

Then he lowered the gun.

It took the wolf cub a while, but then he too lowered his guard, though his eyes remained on the white wolf.

The white wolf turned to his gang behind him. He tossed the gun and the bag towards them. One of the members; a black domestic cat, managed to catch a bag, while the gun landed in the wings of a fat bird.

The white wolf then lifted an index finger and pointed towards someone.

He pointed towards the lynx hiding behind the other bodies of the gang.

“Good job, Vysok,” the white wolf said to him, “Nevaz is gonna be happy. I’ll tell him about you. Maybe he’ll leave your brothers off the hook.”

Vysok the lynx nodded his head and gave a soft, “T-Thank you.”

The white wolf simply flashed him a grin.

Then he twisted his finger, balled it into a fist, spun around on his heels and threw a violent hook onto the side of the wolf cub’s face.

The white wolf lost control of his wrist. His fist took hold of the engine mid-flight and drove its entire body across the cold air and crashed against the corner of the wolf cub’s snout. The sound was a dull blow, but the impact was not. It was akin to a small, stationary sedan parked in the path of a barrelling freight train. All four knuckles made direct contact and registered themselves through the thin cushions of flesh well enough that it sent the wolf cub’s head spinning to the side as if his neck was a comical pivot. Blood spewed like a glorious geyser, painting the air into a fine, red mist. The white wolf’s fist devoured it whole like a glutton in a buffet, decorating its snow-white complexion with dots of crimson.

The white wolf managed to seize control of his fist and snapped it back to his wrist. He was left to a wheezing husk from the swing, leaning down against a bent knee as he tried to catch his breath.

He looked up towards the wolf cub.

His face was intact, from the structure to his expression. His stare remained unchanged, with his eyes still square on the white wolf’s as if nothing happened. The sum of the white wolf’s effort resulted in nothing more than a few strands of tousled fur and a thin stream of red running down from the corner of the wolf cub’s snout.

The tiger cub peeked at the wolf cub from behind, her face wrought with concern and shock.

“Yasnyy,” she whispered, lifting her hand towards his snout and rubbing off his blood with her sleeve.

Still hunched over, the white wolf locked eyes with the wolf cub.

The tiger cub tugged the wolf cub on his shirt from behind, “Come on, let’s go.”

The wolf cub didn’t budge. He remained rooted on the spot, shielding the tiger cub with one arm as he clenched his fist in the other. He kept his silence and his snout shut, making not a single sound. His expression was a blank page, void of any agitation or emotion.

The white wolf’s snout broke into a smile.

“You’re right, Vysok” his voice boomed across the mart as he yelled.

The white wolf took a stance, raising his fists close to his face, tucking his chin to his chest. He brought in his elbows, putting them straight beneath his fists.

“He doesn’t even run when you fuck with him,” he said.

He cranked his shoulder and slammed an uppercut under the wolf cub’s chin. His snout rocked upwards like a whiplash. Before anyone could catch the sound, the white wolf launched a hook from the side, clipping the wolf cub by his hips. The impact shot his body sideways by a fraction. Before he could shift his weight back, the white wolf threw his elbow across his chin. He threw hook after hook, cut after cut, hitting at every angle he could reach. He ducked down and flung a jab at the waist before throwing his weight and slamming a strike across the chin. He was a machine churning violent force at a raging pace.

Everything became a blur. The white wolf’s face was obscured behind the flurry of attacks. His body was reduced to a collection of pale streaks bursting in spontaneous motions. Grotesque thunders of colliding flesh rippled across the soundscape like tidal waves wreaking vengeance against the currents. The air began to rust with ripe, sharp pangs of metal. He didn’t seem to hold any notions of stopping. His fists kept going, one after another, only growing in quantity and violence.

The wolf cub’s feet remained in place.

His head, though rocked and shaken, was kept high. His limbs, barely clutching to their joints, stayed in perpetual dormancy, never once risen. Silence, he wore throughout. The only thing that wasn’t a constant was his fur. Bruises from the blows, cuts from the clips, emerging throughout his body, searing marks through his bare skin, cutting across the black strands as they housed flows of red, tainting from his nose to his neck; from his shirt to his torso beneath; from his shoulder to his fingertips. They’d lash out in droplets and splotches with every jolt from the strikes, dousing its surroundings with their sparse, crimson presence.

The wolf cub stood through it all.

Time had thrown its chips into the table in place for the white wolf’s waning strength. Gravity soon joined in, taking hold of the weight of his body. Like grooves on a train track, they slowed him down. The white wolf lost his stance. Whatever that was left of him were mindless straight punches. He hammered his knuckles wherever he could touch, lobbed them like they were rocks on a string with his elbow as a pivot. The back of his fists was smothered. He’d gripped his palms so tight for so long that his claws bit through the skin, turning the flesh into bulging, pulsing balls of pale red. The white on his fur was muddled, either by dirt, blood, pain, or the unholy combination of the three.

The white wolf’s face reemerged from the fading blur. Whatever emotion he held moments prior were long gone, replaced with something much stronger. It pulled his skin from the base of his snout, crossing his eyes to a dark glare. Boiling mists of frustration seeped out of his dripping nose and from between his unfurled teeth.

None spoke, as a choking atmosphere took hold of the scene. Shock and awe were present in the expression of every spectator, save for two. The tiger cub hid her face behind the wolf cub. He could hear the sound of her teeth grinding. Vysok hid his eyes behind his palm as if to shield himself from the act.

Peeking beneath his hand, however, was a slight grin, flashing out from the edge of his snout.

As for the wolf cub himself, he returned no more than an unchanging gaze towards the white wolf.

It drove the valley further between the white wolf’s eyes.

"H-Hey, Ryadov," a voice sounded off from the gang, “We got this. W-We can just use it, r-right?”

Ryadov the white wolf shot his glare to the back.

The fat bird from before stood out in front of the gang. In his wings was the submachine gun from the tiger cub’s bag pointing to his front, sights lined toward the wolf cub. The gun rattled under the bird’s nervous feathers but the barrel never strayed from its general target.

As a response, Ryadov reached into his jacket and pulled something out.

A curved, wooden handle with a steel head on the top.

The wolf cub was the first to recognize it, sticking his eyes towards it with a degree of caution.

The white wolf held the thing tight between the ball of his palm and his fingers. He drew it close to his chest and flicked his wrist outwards.

The thick blade of his pocket knife shot outwards. A ridge rode between the cold steel, curving towards the tip sitting on the edge. Metal teeth bit through the base of the spine, with no intentions of slacking its grip.

Scars were adorned upon the blade in form of scratches and light dents. The wolf cub picked up its stench stronger than most knives he’d seen.

It wasn’t the blade’s first time out of the handle.

The wolf cub felt his fingers and limbs tense out of reflex.

Ryadov kept his eyes on the bird. With a heavy hand, he tilted the blade towards him, sending a chilling shudder down his shoulders.

“Do that,” the white wolf growled, “And you’re next.”

The bird kept the gun held high, but his wing stayed far from the trigger.

Ryadov smiled.

“Good,” he said.

The white wolf flicked the pocket knife to a backhanded grip, ducked down, and thrust the sharp end at the wolf cub.

The tiger cub yelped out of pure shock.

The wolf cub managed to catch the blade with both hands inches before it pierced his abdomen.

The white wolf kept his grip on the handle as he pushed it with his palm. His limbs trembled, having nowhere to exert all the invested force. He gritted his teeth, the jagged pattern growing ever wider and more vicious within his unfurled snout.

The wolf cub’s hands were the dam holding everything back. He clutched onto the blade with energy enough to rival the white wolf’s vehemence. The knife ate his palm from the inside, sinking its teeth into his flesh. Streaks of fresh, bright red seeped through his dark fur like vines on the trunk of the tree, their ends dangling off the tip of his hair into beads of dark, gleaming crimson.

Throughout it all, none moved a muscle. The gang could only stare with disturbance, including Vysok and the bird. The tiger cub stood close enough to intervene. She never followed up on her position. She dared not to move, watching the volatile stalemate from behind the wolf cub.

The two wolves locked eyes, holding onto each other’s attention with adamant focus.

“Only now you move,” Ryadov growled.

The wolf cub’s looked down at the white wolf, his gaze remaining the same.

Ryadov’s glare was driven deeper than before, cracking into a deep canyon of rage. In a heave of temper, the white wolf ran the pocket knife further towards the wolf cub.

The wolf cub tightened his grip. The steel tip was now a bare inch from the wolf cub’s body. Their struggle only dug the blade deeper into his hands with each passing second. The small streams became heavy leaks, spilling miniature pools onto the cold floor below.

It fazed Ryadov none. He held onto his strength as if his life hung between his blade and his target. That sentiment was mutual; more so for the opposing force.

Said sentiment was broken, however, when a sound emerged from beyond the mart’s entrance. It shattered the ambience with all the subtlety of a firework going off in a starless night; the low hum of a decelerating engine, hard rubber biting gravel, the creaks of an ageing suspension system. The noises cast a net and roped in every watching head towards its general direction.

In an act of serendipity, the wolves released their grips. The pocket knife fell in between the two, landing on the floor with a dull, wet thud.

There, pulling up to the parking lot, was an old, white sedan. It sported a pair of blue strips running across the body, reaching from the headlights to the taillights. Written on the doors and bonnet of the vehicle were words none of them wouldn’t be able to recognize.

If they couldn’t, the red-and-blue flasher sitting atop the roof was more than capable of reminding anyone.

Outstepped the car, a walrus; whiskers long and unkempt, brushing off against the tusks sticking out below his upper lip with every step he took. Adorning his body was a black uniform that he wore like a label on a plastic bottle. The fact that the buttons held on to the fabric wrapping across his near-oval shaped body was a miracle in itself. His torso took a near two-thirds of his frame. His legs, under the might of his upper body, were reduced to stumps, so much so that they made his pants look like shorts.

That, however, wasn’t a detriment to his actual size. They commanded a presence that brought with it a degree of authority capable of silencing anyone with any sort of judgement towards his figure.

The effect was given a visual aid, too. Upon the walrus’ entrance, the entire front of the mart was cast under his shadow, enveloping everything within his vicinity to a dark, oppressive ocean. The ones unaffected were the gang standing behind Ryadov, who made an immediate retreat from the walrus’ approaching silhouette as if it was a poisonous tide.

The white wolf and the wolf cub had nowhere to go. The tiger cub had stuck herself behind the latter, hanging close to his back, away from the new looming threat.

The walrus looked down onto the two wolves before him. The two stared back from under his darkness.

The white wolf had the expression of someone in complete clarity regarding the gravity of the situation. His arms were stuck in a limbo between tension and ease. They were held outwards, close to his body but paralyzed from fear that any indication of motion would signify instant guilt.

The wolf cub had as strong of an understanding as Ryadov, though he grasped it from another perspective. His expression remained the same. As soon as the knife touched the floor, he curled his fingers inwards and formed fists, hiding his palm from view. It only made the red gush out more.

The walrus kept his dark, beaded gaze on the situation as he reached his flipper towards a dark, radio transmitter clipped onto his shoulder. A static explosion erupted in the cold air. The white wolf made a slight stagger that did more to shock him than anything else.

“Balev here, ten-twenty-three for last ten-eighty-five call, nine to ten juvies, two armed, one to two possible repeat offender,” he boomed with a bloated, hollow voice, “Requesting backup. In need of at least two extra personnel, over.”

A noisy ambience trailed behind Balev the walrus’ words for a few seconds.

“Copy that,” a voice replied, its tone so coarse and hazy from the radio that it resembled talking sandpaper than an actual living being, “ETA in three. Proceed with caution.”

Balev released his flipper from the radio and returned the soundscape to the deafening silence.

“Hey,” his voice bellowed.

The walrus raised his flipper once more, pointing towards the gang standing behind Ryadov.

It was like a mechanical switch. All at once, any sort of movement, be it as big as a raised arm or as minor as a fidgeting ankle, was halted the instant the walrus pointed towards them.

“Put that down,” he said, “Before someone gets hurt.”

He needn’t clarify whom he spoke to. The fat bird simply dropped the gun as if it was a cursed stone. His avian eye tried to look away but couldn’t. The walrus’ beady pupils forced contact with the bird as he struggled to breathe. His beak was left ajar, trying to cough out but was held back by the air choking his throat. His legs trembled; a mere ounce of pressure away from giving way and crumbling from their joints.

The walrus turned back towards the wolves. More specifically, he set his sights on the tiger cub cowering behind the wolf cub.

He asked, “You called the police?”

The tiger cub didn’t dare to turn away from the wolf cub’s back.

“You in the red beanie,” Balev asked again, “You called me?”

For a brief moment, the tiger cub was irresponsive, until she shook her head by bare inches, her face still buried in the wolf cub’s back.

The walrus looked back up towards the scene.

“So who the hell made the call?”

As if on cue, a mechanical click sounded off from the white door behind the counter. Attracted by the sudden silence, the musk deer from before peeked his head out, scanning for potential trouble. It was then when his eyes met with the walrus’.

He asked, “Y-You the police?”

“Do I look like a repairman?” Balev replied.

“They came in and disrupted business,” the musk deer stuck out a finger from behind the door, pointing towards the crowd, “The wolf’s fine; the black one. The tiger too. The rest are h-here for trouble-”

“I’ll take it from here,” the walrus cut the musk deer off, “You stay behind that door. Save all that for testimony.”

With great obedience, the musk deer retreated, closing the door behind him but this time, leaving it unlocked.

The walrus glanced back towards the two wolves.

At this point, the wolf cub’s lower lip was tainted into a wet, unrecognizable blend of black and red. He tucked it behind his upper teeth but to no avail. Despite his best efforts to hide it, the crimson stream still managed to seep between his teeth, flowing down beneath his chin where they began dripping onto the floor, dropping beads of ruby onto the pocket knife laying before his feet. A carmine mess, in forms of spread puddles across the ground and pale, drying splotches on the wolf cub’s white shirt.

If said mess served any purpose whatsoever, they took attention away from the pulsing bruises bulging across his face and limbs, growing out from beneath his thin fur.

Balev reached back towards his radio transmitter. He spoke as soon as the static boom ran its course.

“Requesting ten-fifty-two on the scene, one wounded, no casualty, in need of immediate first aid-”

“No,” the wolf cub shot out as he tried to wipe the filth off snout and chin with his wrist, “N-No. I’m okay. Okay. G-Good. I’m goo-”

“You’re as good as my eyes can see,” the walrus replied, still holding onto his radio, “Disregard disruption, follow with that ten-fifty-two, over.”

“Copy that,” the coarse voice from before rustled out from the radio, “Dispatch ETA in five to seven.”

Balev released his flipper from the radio and spoke to the wolf cub, still dragging his tainted snout across his equally dirtied wrists in desperation. The walrus let out a sigh.

“Your dad’s going to have a field day with you,” he said.

The wolf cub froze up upon hearing those words. His eyelids lowered, turning his gaze into a cautioned, empty stare.

The walrus turned towards the white door.

“Hey, you, deer,” he boomed, “Where do you store the medicals?”

There was a brief silence before the musk deer’s muffled voice emerged from behind the door.

“A-Aisle fourteen,” he answered.

Balev glanced towards the wolf cub, “You heard him. Go patch yourself up. I’ll pay for it.”

“I-I bought some,” the wolf cub answered.

“You did?”

The wolf cub nodded.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

The wolf cub turned to his back.

“Gloymi,” he said, “The bag.”

Gloymi the tiger cub was unresponsive for a while. She eventually broke away from the wolf cub’s back and turned towards the counter. There, the plastic bag from before sat, waiting for them all this time. Gloymi grabbed it by the ears and dragged it down to her arm. The weight forced it to oscillate from her elbow, rustling from the groceries inside.

The wolf cub asked, “Y-You have it?”

She returned to his back, gripping the back of his shirt with both arms.

“I’m with you,” the tiger cub muttered beneath her breath.

“H-Hold tight,” the wolf cub whispered.

Gloymi tightened her grip just a little more.

The wolf cub turned his head towards the entrance and broke into a mad dash towards it. The tiger cub held close to his shirt from behind, with the plastic bag’s massive bulge swaying from the sudden burst of motion. By the time Balev noticed, all he could see was the tip of Gloymi’s tail streaking past the corner of his eye.

“What the fu-” was all the wolf cub last heard of the walrus as his face crash against the wall of cold air outside. His sight was burnt for a split second by the sudden bask of natural light, but his legs kept going. His nose was befuddled from the assault of various smells, ranging from the cold air to dust to burnt rubber, all packaged in the moulding stench of metal, but his legs kept going. His ears rang to a near-deafening degree, but his legs kept going. He felt the ground beneath his bare feet change from a smooth floor to jagged, freezing asphalt. He felt the rocks stabbing his toes with every panicked step he took, digging into soles.

His legs kept going.

At that point, the wolf cub opted to run blind. He relied on his mind; his muscle memory on the streets he lived in for the better part of a decade. He drew the mental image from his movements like a running film. He ran for what felt like an instant and an hour as if time had solidified on the spot and never allowed him to stop. His ears kept ringing; his nose kept stinging; his sight kept burning.

His legs kept going.

Then he felt something slip from his back as if he’d been carrying a weight for all his life and had only revealed himself at that very moment.

The wolf cub made the realization.

He pounded his heel to the ground and turned to his back just as that weight slid from on his back, losing its grip from the tip of his tail.

“Gloymi,” he yelled.

At that point, the wolf cub’s sight returned to his eyes, but only by a narrow margin. The corners were still burnt like an old, rotting photo, with the colours faded to grey. The wolf cub could only see a little, and the tiger cub was all he could see.

She had crashed face-first onto the ground, unable to catch up with the wolf cub. The bag had dragged her down, with the bottom breaking away, leaving an assortment of groceries strewn and rolling across the ground.

The wolf cub’s ears stopped ringing and started picking up sounds again. All he could catch was distant sirens crying from afar, growing louder with every passing second.

The wolf cub ran towards Gloymi, grabbing her under her shoulders. The blood from before still ran, flowing from his palm to her jacket, staining it to a wet, glossy red.

The wolf cub pleaded, “Come on, come on-”

“-kle,” she muttered.

“W-What?”

The sirens grew closer and louder.

“My ankle,” the tiger cub panted, “The fall twisted it. Go.”

“No, n-no,” the wolf cub retorted as he pulled her up, “T-The gun. Your fingerprint’s on it. They’ll-”

Before he could finish, Gloymi made a sudden grab onto his arm and bit his wrist. The wolf cub yelped as he dropped her out of reflex. The tiger cub broke her fall with her elbow, the tattered ears from the plastic bag still stuck to it.

“Go, I got bail,” the tiger cub yelled, “Go, go-”

The sirens grew nearer.

“GO!”

The wolf cub screamed out incoherence as he broke back into a sprint, leaving Gloymi behind him.

The pain and fatigue began to creep into the wolf cub’s system. He felt his palm roar in discomfort as the cut from the pocket knife began to take its toll. The cold air seeped into his palms and began scraping against the wound like claws. They burnt every nerve beneath his gash into a frizzled mess, searing it in great agony. He felt the bruises across his body; the blood clot rubbed against his contracting flesh and his bones with every move he made. He couldn’t feel anything from his snout but his inflamed gums, swelling and pulsing against his teeth. Liquid metal seeped the exposed corners of his jaws, pooling over his lips as they overflowed and poured onto the streets.

The ache in his legs screamed in torment, and they just kept going.

The rocks from the asphalt began tearing through the wolf cub’s skin from beneath his feet.

His legs kept going.

The blood from the wolf cub’s mouth gathered with his saliva into chunks and began sliding down his throat.

He simply lifted his head and kept going.

He still couldn’t see much, but he could still see the sparse clouds in the sky.

The glass ceiling seemed lower today.

The concrete room shrunk with every subsequent visit. The walls only ever seemed to pull closer to the centre. The wolf cub could feel their presence, even if he stood far from them. They could be a few meters away from him and all the wolf cub needed to do was to extend his hand and he could touch it in the air, cramping against his palm, pushing him to the opposite, solid wall. The ground was the same as always, caked with dirt, dust, dried mud, and various other substances unsavoury to his nose that were best left unidentified. He felt a weight latched onto his two feet whenever he stepped in, tugging him down from beneath the ground, pulling with him his strength and motivation. The ceiling had a gravity of its own, tugging the floor every closer to it. Its pull was so strong that it held a palpable grip of the air, turning it every so slightly denser with each breath the wolf cub took. He always questioned whether the ceiling was always as near as it looked, so much so that he developed a reflex to duck his head to his neck every time he stepped under it, no matter how far high it was.

The concrete room felt less like one every time the wolf cub entered. It seemed to hold a life of its own, changing its properties to its will in ways imperceivable to the naked eye. The wolf cub could tell the distortions with every sense but his sight, blind to the happenings, vulnerable to its mercy.

The other occupants of the room, however, seemed impervious to its force.

“Tell me the names again,” Tein brought his face closer to the wolf cub, his eyes peering.

“R-Ryadov,” the wolf cub took a step back, losing the rhythm of his breath as the tiger’s scent engulfed his snout.

“And? The other one,” Tein loomed in closer from above.

The wolf cub left his mouth ajar for a moment before replying, “N-Nevaz.”

“Nevaz?”

“Y-Yea,” the wolf cub said, “Nevaz.”

“Species?”

“D-Didn’t say.”

“You sure?”

The wolf cub nodded.

“Nevaz?”

The wolf cub nodded again.

Tein turned to his back where a bear and a lizard stood. The former leaned against the wall, staring at the wolf cub from a distance. The latter squatted down in the corner of the room, resting his arms on his kneecaps with a lit cigarette dangling between his fingers.

“Never heard of him,” the lizard answered before the tiger said anything.

The bear simply shook his head.

Tein stuffed his hands into his pockets and pulled out a small flip phone, “Call up the usuals.”

The bear, in turn, reached into his jacket and fished out a cell phone, “Which one?”

The tiger flicked open his phone with one hand, punching his thumb into the keypads, “Everyone.”

The lizard slotted the cigarette between his cracked lips, brushed his knees, stood up and asked, “I got no phone.”

The tiger kept his gaze on his phone, “Payphones.”

The lizard took a drag from his cigarette, inhaling a quarter of the remaining stick before blowing a chimney out from his nostrils, “I got no money.”

“You got a cigarette,” the bear pointed out.

The lizard took the cigarette out of his mouth, flicked the ashes onto the ground and put it back in, “That’s why I got no money.”

The wolf cub, still standing on his spot in front of Tein, spoke out of the blue, “I-I used your name.”

The bear asked the lizard, “You even remember the numbers?”

“No, but I remember faces,” the lizard reduced the cigarette to a burnt orange butt in one breath, turning it into pale, white steam brushing against the high and low ceiling, “I’ll ask ‘em if I see ‘em.”

“T-Tein,” the wolf cub cried out in a louder voice, “Your name didn’t work.”

“Too bad,” the tiger kept his eyes on the phone, thumbing through his contact list.

“Y-You said you’ll protect us,” the wolf cub retorted, “M-Me and Gloymi.”

Tein looked up from his phone and tossed it towards the lizard, “Catch.”

The lizard’s jaw opened out of shock, dropping the still-smoking cigarette butt from his mouth as he caught the phone flying towards his face in mid-air with both hands.

“Hey, what- damn, I was gonna chew on that,” the lizard looked towards the floor, lamenting on the dropped cigarette butt.

“It’s dialling,” the bear pointed towards Tein’s phone in the lizard’s hand as he put his against his ear.

The lizard glanced towards the phone, “Really?”

“Y-You said you’ll protect us,” the wolf cub repeated himself towards Tein louder.

A muffled click emitted from the tiger’s phone, followed by the sound of a weak, feeble voice, “Hello?”

“Hey,” the lizard answered, “Is this thing on speaker?”

“Yes,” Tein replied from the other side of the room.

The feeble voice spoke again, “T-Tein? That you?”

“I’m going to the payphones. You two keep making calls,” the tiger said.

“Wait, I don’t know no numbers,” the lizard retorted.

The feeble voice spoke, crackling in static from the bad speakers and the worse signal, “Tein? Wha- What’s this ‘bout?”

“He saved them in his contacts,” the bear replied, his phone still planted next to his ear.

The feeble voice sounded desperate, more so under the terrible speakers, “T-The money? Is it the money? It’s next week, ri- right? You set the date yourse-”

“Shut up for a second,” the lizard cried to the phone before turning towards the bear, “I don’t know no names either. I told you, I only know faces.”

“Hold on,” the bear raised his palm towards the lizard, cupping the phone closer to his ear, “Yeah. Yeah. No, listen- I’m looking for this guy. Navez.”

“Y-You said you’ll protect us,” the wolf cub repeated himself even louder than before.

“Nevaz,” Tein corrected the bear.

“Nevaz,” the bear said, “The name ringing bells?”

“Tein, I-I swear, I’m good for the money,” the feeble voice cracked into three different tones throughout its few words, “Ju- Just please, do- Don’t- I mean, please. Keep my- no, uh… C-Can we leave my sister o-out of this?”

The lizard turned his head to the phone, “Hey, you know Nevaz?”

The feeble voice was thrown in a loop, confusion gripping his words, “Who- wha- N-Nevaz? W-Who’s Nevaz? Who’s thi-”

The bear stuck a finger in his other ear and spoke louder, “Can’t tell you the species. I don’t know. But have you heard of the name?”

“I’m only asking twice. No third chance,” the lizard yelled louder than the bear into Tein’s phone, “Do you know who the hell is Nevaz?”

Without another word, the tiger turned on his heels and headed out towards the broken doorway. He stepped past the wolf cub without giving so much as a look at him.

The wolf cub, rooted on his spot, watched as Tein left the concrete room from a broken doorway. The wolf cub made a panicked glance, looking at the tiger’s tail waving farewell from the doorway before watching the commotion erupt on the other side of the room as the lizard, the bear, and the feeble voice collide in a competition of volume.

The wolf cub stood in a mental conflict for a hesitant second before breaking away from his spot, rushing out of the doorway, leaving the concrete room.

“T-Tein,” he called out as he ran across the corridor, streaking past the cold, metal-poisoned air and the distant industrial ambience.

The tiger’s figure was not far, but it was fast approaching the staircase.

“Y-You said- You said,” the wolf cub cried out as he quickened his steps, catching more dust with the skinned bruises under his bare feet, “You said you’ll protect us.”

Tein gave no attention to the wolf cub, keeping up with a constant, walking pace.

The wolf cub was meters from catching up, “You said-”

The tiger remained silent.

“-you’ll protect us,” the wolf cub reached Tein.

The tiger swerved to his back, stomping a heavy boot against the ground inches away from the wolf cub, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

The wolf cub felt the ground shake from the impact, stopping him in his tracks almost immediately. Tein’s voice blasted across the dilapidated, abandoned workers’ dormitory, drowning out every last decibel in the local soundscape that didn’t belong to him. The air burnt to a near-boiling degree in an instant, choking the wolf cub for a split second. The echoes held their grip onto the surrounding winds, daring them to make even the smallest breeze.

The wolf cub himself was frozen on the spot. His limbs were locked to their joints. His organs seized functions for a moment, forcing every drop of blood towards his drumming heart. Fear and shock took hold of his mind, overriding his natural reflexes to move or even breathe.

“Did I say that I’ll protect you?” Tein unfurled his snout, showing his gritted teeth. White as they were, its colour was the only thing that could be described as such. They occupied his mouth like a prison, seated in disciplined rows, jagging into each other’s space with geometric perfection. They curved down ever so slightly to its base, riding up to a tip that was as sharp as its smooth. They bit over nothing and yet, still took an unrippable hold over it.

The wolf cub had his eyes stuck to its presence.

“Did I say that I’ll protect you?” Tein repeated himself. His snout pulled itself wider, showing the shrouded length in which his teeth stretched inwards.

Compelled by its sight, the wolf cub managed to swallow his fright and speak, “Y-you s-said-”

“I never said I’ll protect you,” the tiger took a step closer towards the wolf cub, covering him under his shadow, “I said I’ll let you use my name. That’s all my words were. Unless I’m a liar.

“Am I a liar? Are you calling me a fucking liar?”

The wolf cub instincts regained control, snapping his legs out from the trance and pulling him a step back out from the darkness, “N-No-”

“So I’m not a liar,” Tein took another further step closer, enveloping him in his silhouette again, “So I never said I’ll protect you, and I never will? You could’ve thought this out yourself. Why’d you think I’ll ever say that to you?”

The wolf cub had to compensate with two, and it still wasn’t enough to escape his presence, “I-I don’t-”

The tiger loomed in ever closer, “You disrespected one of my goons with your attitude. You made him and his brothers turncoat and killed off one of my income supplies. Now? You landed my sister with the fucking cops and insist that I should protect him because she calls you her boyfriend?”

The wolf cub didn’t dare to speak anymore, much less move.

The tiger stopped, “What’s my name?”

The wolf cub struggled to find the words, “W-Wha-”

The tiger lowered his voice to a sharp growl, “What’s my fucking name?”

The wolf cub looked down to his feet, “T-Tein.”

“Say it again.”

“T-Tei-”

“Say it perfectly.”

“Tein.”

“Good. What am I?”

"……”

“What the fuck am I?”

“G-Gloymi’s brother.”

“Your girlfriend’s brother. Am I right?”

“Y-Yes.”

“What else am I?”

“…… “

“What else am I?”

“I-I don’t-”

“Can I kill you?”

The wolf cub shuddered from that sudden question.

“You heard me. Can I kill you”

The wolf cub didn’t respond.

“Answer me. Can I kill you?”

The wolf cub remained quiet.

“I know your ears work, you fuck. Can I kill you?”

A moment of silence passed.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Say it in full.”

“Yes, y-you can k-kill me.”

“Say it louder.”

“Yes, you can k-kill me.”

“Louder.”

“Yes, you can kill me.”

“Louder, you fuck.”

“Yes, you can kill-”

Tein shot out his arm and grabbed onto the wolf cub’s nose. With one hand, the tiger clamped his snout shut and lifted him off the ground, bringing him out from his shadow and into the natural light. The wolf cub couldn’t struggle; he didn’t dare to. His body dangled from the tiger’s grasp like a dormant marionette. There was no action the wolf cub could make that belonged to his will. Even his stare was a product of Tein’s insistent, inescapable glare.

“My name is Tein. I am the brother of the girlfriend that you left behind in a slammer whose business you fucked over and has more than enough reasons to crack your jaw wide open,” the tiger tightened his grip, forcing a wince from the wolf cub, “And I don’t think I need to tell you whether I’m capable of doing that shit.”

The tiger then moved his grip, focusing the balls of his palm on the wolf cub’s nose. He held tight onto the wolf cub’s upper jaw and raised it high where his entire body dangled from his grip alone. The wolf cub’s lower jaw hung below it, ajar and drawing stiffened, short breaths.

“Now, what’s your name?”

Tein's grip flattened the wolf cub's voice, filtering it through a forced, nasal tone, "Ya- Yashnyy."

"Say it again.

"Y-Yashnyy."

"Again.

"Yashnyy."

"What are you?"

The wolf cub was rendered silent as he began to tear up from the pain gripping his nose.

"Tell me, what are you?"

"G-Ghloymi'sh boy-"

"No no no, I already gave you the answer. All you gotta do is repeat it. So tell me Yasnyy, what the fuck are you?"

"I d-don'th kno-"

"You damn well know, Yasnyy. You fucking do."

“I-”

“You’re the wolf who disrespected one of mine-”

The wolf cub gave up on forming words, pouring all his strength into the last of his waning consciousness.

“You’re the wolf who made him and his brothers turncoat-”

His nose felt as if it was being torn from his snout by the weight of his own body. The hardened wounds in his mouth began to reopen.

“You’re the wolf who landed my sister with the police-”

Blood spurt out from the wolf cub’s inflamed gums, pooling over his lips as they overfilled and trickled down onto the cold ground.

“-and the wolf who insisted I should protect him because she calls him her boyfriend.”

For a split second, the wolf cub lost sight of natural light. Bitter, aching, and tortured, he couldn’t feel anything else but the pressure on his nose both from above and below as if his body shut itself down for the sole purpose to congregate all the nerves and senses to the torment searing across his upper snout alone.

With a flex of his wrist, Tein relinquished his grip.

Like a sudden burst of light in a dark room, the wolf cub was blinded by the relief. His body couldn’t catch up to the train of events. The wolf cub crashed onto the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, smacking his snout right against the floor where he spilt blood from his teeth. He didn’t have the strength to move his limbs, much less raise himself from the ground.

“Think for a second,” Tein planted a firm foot over the wolf cub’s back, adding weight to his already drained figure, “Who are you to me?”

He loomed over the wolf cub’s frame, shrouding him back into his shadow.

“What do you have over me?”

The tiger pressed down harder against the soles of his boot.

“Why should I care?”

He lowered himself closer to the wolf cub.

“What do you think you are?”