Werewolves were one of the biggest pests to any thriving kingdom. They didn’t pose a problem usually, if killed upon immediate discovery. Otherwise, left unchecked in a town or city, much like a fox living in a village of chickens, one-by-one, people ended up missing.

A time or two, a pack leader had visited the palace, arguing that werewolves choosing to live off the land were the true pure ones and needed no killing. It was the werewolves who tried to deny their nature, only to eventually lash out on a full moon when their caged inner wolves let loose and did the unthinkable, they’d argued.

Sorem’s uncle, the king of Wisen, had ignored each and every plea.

Much like the Jaffo, werewolves wore the pelt of other animals, which was disgusting considering that they were technically animals themselves.

They wore far less, however, enough to cover their loins but little else. It was the werewolf women that made Sorem uncomfortable.

A bitch in heat was a bitch in heat, even in human form. While their men wore pelt, the women did wear coarse linens. Linens that barely covered them.

Werewolves lived in an open camp, taking cover only in the rain. They moved about mostly at night, roamed often, and encroached on territory whenever possible.

But that wasn’t the strangest things about werewolves, it was the skinned silver and gray wolf coat some wore, complete with the dead wolf’s head resting on the man form.

Sorem scanned the open encampment and estimated a good fifty people. With strangers in their midst, young werewolves were sent out for night hunts by youthful wolves. The older groups, however, made music and drank, welcoming the leader of the Jaffo.

This werewolf pack leader was Kog. He sat beside the hunchback, dead wolf head atop his own, and he had a theory about the ogre.

“It’s a warring pack’s doing,” he said, biting into a rabbit leg he was good enough to roast for his guests. “And we’ve been after it for months, what with it being able to mask its scent. You’ve done us a real favor.”

They sat circling the large fire, the leaders close to one another, while all others brought them food non-stop.

Wyrn appeared in his element. His hunchback was probably why he rested with his elbows on his knees often, but he feigned the air of authority, tearing into his meat as he watched the ground and listened in earnest to Kog’s words.

“In ancient times, we’d patrolled forests,” Kog complained. “Now? Now we circle one another like vultures!”

Brow creased in thought, Wyrn asked, “What about Wisen? It must be hard staying in one area. Doesn’t the food bore you after a time?”

“It’s not just the food. That dirty king of Wisen. He’d promised us an alliance, allowing us to come and go as we pleased on his land so long as we were in wolf form.”

Wyrn sat up and attested, “If there was one pack.”

Kog, like Wyrn, was young for a leader. He was a towering man while standing, prematurely gray.

“The idea was sound. My mind was never to destroy the other packs. Only…only unite them.”

“Under your rule.”

Kog sat up, insulted. “And why not? My rule is just!”

Sorem watched the back and forth, too fearful of what the hunchback might say to get them killed. Even having Vadde sitting by him rather than her husband held little meaning as imaginings of being eaten by a pack of wolves came at an alarming rate.

Vadde’s lips parted as she listened to her captor in earnest.

Perhaps she, too, could sense imminent death. Surely, she could when the hunchback opened his mouth and uttered an insult to rival all others.

The rowdy crowd fell silent, even the music stopped.

Kog, facing forward much like Wyrn, sat up and turned to look at him finally. “Say that again.”

Shockingly, the hunchback mimicked his posture and did just that.

“I said, your rule was infiltrated by an ogre. And how do you know it’s even just the one?”

With that, it happened, Kog clenched his fists. “Upon finding you’ve stolen territory, a proper werewolf wouldn’t have used diplomacy. He would have eaten you, taken your women, and killed your mules.”

He shot to his feet, but Wyrn merely went back to staring at the ground as he finished his meat. He was in no hurry, and he didn’t speak again until he was done.

At that moment, Kog’s rage was at its peak to such an extent that the man trembled.

Wyrn dragged himself up to stand. The height difference alone was comical.

“Yes. A proper pack leader would do all those things,” Wyrn agreed. “But the fact that you don’t is why there’s tension with your wolves and the others. You’re a leader who thinks like a man, not a wolf. That is a problem.”

Two men stood, then another.

The dumb little Jaffo wasn’t fazed, not even slightly. Couldn’t he feel the imaginary teeth already in his throat? Sorem certainly could.

Wyrn peered up at Kog. “You knew there was an ogre in your midst. You must have known, or at least suspected. But their skins are too tough to bite through and asking for help is for the weak, correct?”

Kog drew ragged breaths, staring at the pest before him.

There was no coming back from this insult, so Sorem scanned the campsite, looking for a possible means of escape. His horse was too deep into the clutches of the werewolf, but he could run. A glance at Vadde, hands clasped together at her chest, and he wondered how fast she could move as well. Perhaps cutting the fairy would distract the pack and they could get away.

“And it’s the reason why I’m glad to have encountered you rather than any of the other packs.”

Teeth gritted, Kog sneered. “Meaning?”

“You’re young, and you’ve earned that wolf pelt from battle no doubt. But you’ve got brains along with it. So, you must understand that no alpha is going to allow himself to be ruled by another. It would be all-out war if you tried to unite other factions.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Kog argued. “It’s a chance to roam free. Only a fool would not take it.”

“Well, how about allowing a different rule?”

Kog gave only a cold stare as his answer.

“Jaffo are skilled at catching and restraining a number of creatures, including ogres who can masquerade as wolves. In fact, I’ve taken some of your land already. We do not need to live here, so you are free to do as you please. However, if you have an infestation or a suspicion of one, call on us and we’ll send in a party immediately to remove it.”

Sorem, hand on his dagger, had already sized up Matax and where to cut when the werewolf leader said, “In exchange?”

“You and the other wolf packs answer to me.”

Kog scoffed. “They would not agree.”

“Oh, but I think they would.” Wyrn stared up at him. “In one day, I did what you could not do in one year. I lead the Jaffo, and it’s not by chance or luck. I could fight you. I could visit each wolf pack and fight each and every alpha but how could you rule your people if someone of my size could best you? It looks bad and I take no pleasure in it. I am not even asking for land to settle. Only to expand the Jaffo territory. All wolf packs would be ogre-free within the month. Guaranteed.” Wyrn wasn’t making much ground, so he said, “And of course, you are welcome to call on us in times of need.” Murmurs broke out but he held up his hand. “Within reason. But yes, we would see to it that Wisen holds up its end of the bargain.”

Kog’s expression softened. “And what about Jaffo land?”

“What about it? The previous rules go unchanged. No werewolves in Jaffo land.”

The collective chatter intensified until Wyrn held up his hand yet again.

“But, unlike before, you can travel through in small numbers.”

The way Kog stared at the ground, thoughtful, meant he was more than interested.

“Now, you need not do so in secret and risk death. That death decree would be lifted for all werewolf travelers who announce themselves.”

“But Jaffo can smell us—”

“Our wives can’t.” At the silence, Wyrn hesitated then said, “Should any of your women join us—”

Kog pointed. “A-ha! I knew it would come.”

“We’re not asking for women. I only mean that since Jaffo only have boys, you lift the restriction on your women mixing with us. We lift the one on your travel. It is a fair trade. Or would you rather a half ogre taking command of a pack? Or a full ogre?”

That shut everybody up.

After a long pause, Kog looked out at his people and ordered, “Bring the mead!”

By midday, negotiations were at an end.

Sorem got a good look at the troll marker, the domain keeper, as it marched by, making the earth rumble. When it met up on the werewolves’ own border statue, it swelled, the werewolf one shrinking down as it lurched on.

No less than six werewolf leaders stood side-by-side the next day, shaking Wyrn’s hand.

The seventh leader folded his arms and turned up his nose when Wyrn reached him.

It was an unexpected impediment to be sure.

Kog approached, angry. “What are you doing, welp? You’re jeopardizing a very rare and delicate treaty.”

Sorem watched, fascinated.

The irony was not lost on him. To many, werewolves were the infestation. Most of the land they’d claimed was through violence and destruction.

“I don’t follow Jaffo,” the reluctant wolf said. “They oppose the Fairy King.”

Kog allowed his vulnerability to show. “The last time we followed the Fairy King, we were nearly wiped out. I pledge us against his cause. Where is your precious Fairy King now in our time of need?”

Unlike Kog who was graying, this man, though older, wore a black wolf’s pelt that matched his hair.

He watched the ground for some time then met Kog’s gaze. “The Fairy King is ruthless. Even if he’s killed, he only comes back reborn with a bloodlust. I’m sorry. We can’t risk it.”

Kog stepped before him, warning, “Then you’ll have to fight this Jaffo, and when you lose, your pack will turn on you—”

“No,” Wyrn said, hand held up. “I won’t fight you unless you want to. Keep your territory. We will note it.”

After a thoughtful gaze, the man turned and broke into a run.

Kog stared after him. “The Fairy King would order us to kill him with his back turned.”

Wyrn said, “Then be thankful you are now under the Jaffo rule.” His eyes drifted to Vadde who still worried for him some distance away. “Because my cause is equally just. Isn’t that right, Princess?”

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