Nathan was sitting in front of the pub where Greg could hardly miss him and didn’t look surprised to see him.

“What’s up?” he asked. “I saw the whole pack walk out. Something going on?”

Greg sat down across from him, and quickly looked left and right, before saying: “We’re going to need a werewolf hunter.”

Nathan sighed. “I’d like to claim I’m surprised,” he said. “But that would be a lie. How does Bernadette know?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greg said. “But she seemed really sure.”

“Most people like to be before they hand out a death sentence,” Nathan pointed out. “How many?”

“She’s certain four of them are – are gone. The fifth one might become a problem. The last one is apparently okay.”

Nathan rubbed his chin. “Four of them? Damn.” He thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Let’s go talk to Reed. Or should I go alone? Bernadette and the others can keep the workers safe, right?”

“For now, yes,” Greg said. “But let’s go.”

Captain Reed looked up in surprise when they walked in, then made a face. “I hate bad news,” he informed them before they could say anything. “But out with it, anyway.”

When Greg explained to him what Bernadette had told him, he shook his head sadly but didn’t look shocked. “My men who deal with them have already reported that there were irregularities.”

“With respect, Captain, why didn’t anyone tell me?” Nathan asked. “If you knew about this already, why didn’t you take steps?”

Reed frowned. “I did not realize that you were still actively hunting.”

“And what were you going to do instead?” Nathan asked. “Have you sent for another hunter?”

The captain leafed through some papers on his table and shook his head. “We had a couple of hunters,” he explained, “but they weren’t happy about the new laws and walked out on us.”

“What new laws?” Nathan wanted to know.

Reed paused in shuffling the papers. “Right, you’ve been with the railway for a while,” he said and continued his search. “No werewolf is to be killed without a crown warrant,” he explained. “Or a fair trial.”

“A fair trial?” Nathan echoed. “How do we get a judge out here?”

“I am authorised by His Highness himself to preside over such a trial or issue such a warrant” the Captain assured them. He finally seemed to find whatever paper he had been looking for and handed it over to Nathan. “Here, the law pertaining werewolves in its last iteration, as it reached us a few days ago.”

“And why haven’t you – charged those werewolves yet?” Nathan asked, barely glancing at the text. “If you’re authorized to do so?”

Reed pressed his lips together, clearly wondering whether he should explain himself to them.

“They stopped coming into the camp,” he finally said. “That was the first clear sign that something was changing, and I’ve been told that it’s a weak sign. Calder barely entered, too, so I was hoping that for full moon, they still might come into their cages so that we could sort this out afterwards. If not, well, then I would have been forced to send a messenger to Eoforwic for new hunters.”

He looked Nathan up and down. “And I reckon I’ll still have to send someone, right? Or do you think you can bring in all four of them by yourself?”

Greg was pretty sure Nathan hadn’t even heard the last couple of questions.

“You – hoped they would willingly come into their cages for full moon,” he repeated, clearly incredulous.

“You don’t think they will?” Reed asked back. “It would have been nice and easy – we could have just left them in there after full moon, have the trial then.”

“And in the meantime? Who’s guarding the workers right now?” Greg could tell that Nathan really wanted to ask the captain whether he’d lost his mind.

“He was supposed to,” Reed said, glaring at Greg. “Clearly, he isn’t all that worried either.”

“Greg is only here because right now Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur are making sure that the building site is secured. As long as this problem isn’t dealt with, your workers are all in mortal danger.”

Reed looked surprised at that. “But nobody leaves the camp after dark,” he said. “And the Rot hasn’t been around in weeks.”

“Just because there’s a sun in the sky doesn’t mean that there’s no danger,” Nathan replied. “It’s very rare, yes, but still. Daylight attacks do happen, and in this situation, I wouldn’t count on anything to go as usual. And just because there’s no Rot now, doesn’t mean it won’t be back. One good storm might be all it takes.”

“So you don’t think that they’ll come into their cages peacefully?”

“No,” Nathan said flatly.

“I would be extremely surprised if they do,” Greg added. “Though I’ll admit that even werewolf hunters very rarely deal with werewolves before they’re fully gone, and there’s no telling how the presence of so many sane ones within the same area will affect the outcome.” He glanced over at Nathan. “I would strongly advise you to send a messenger with the next train.”

The captain nodded slowly. “I’ll send a message,” he promised. “We’ll need more werewolves, too. I’m not issuing a warrant until after full moon, though. Work will stop tomorrow anyway until after.”

Nathan opened his mouth, clearly to object, but Greg was quicker. “Captain, are your men informed? And the other settlers?” he asked before Nathan could get them both kicked out.

“Of course my men are informed. As for the settlers, I do not wish to worry people unnecessarily.”

“What about the farmer with his cows?” Greg asked. “He’ll be a very easy target, all by himself.”

Reed glared at him, but then he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll let people know. However, I expect you to get back on the job now.”

Greg nodded and pulled Nathan with him. He wasn’t surprised when his brother insisted on following him out to the worksite.

When he got back to the construction site, everybody was looking over their shoulders a lot, but mostly, work seemed to progress as any other day. Smith still looked very relieved to see Greg again.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked quietly. “Is Nathan going after them?”

Greg shook his head. “Not right now. There’s four of them, and the captain wants to wait out full moon.”

“And we’re supposed to just pretend nothing is going on?”

Greg shrugged. “Bernadette, Boris, Fleur, and I’ll hang around, and tomorrow is the last day of work before full moon anyway. After that, well, I guess the captain won’t have much choice but to send some hunters after them.”

Smith was quiet for a long time. “I don’t want to sound like I don’t trust you,” he said finally. “But – can you even fight them off? If all four of them come at us together?”

Greg made a face. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never had to fight another werewolf. And I’d like to avoid it now if possible. Bernadette says, in a fight with a truly mad werewolf, only strength, size, and skill matter, and well. Neither she nor Fleur is exactly huge. And a werewolf can cripple another one permanently, just like fire and silver.”

“So we’re risking one of our very few elder werewolves why, exactly?” Smith asked.

“I have honestly no idea,” Greg sighed. “I don’t think the captain fully realizes the danger. I also don’t think he was going to take any more advice from Nathan or me.”

He sighed. “He says that all his men did report was that the young werewolves wouldn’t come into camp anymore. If that’s really all the information he had, hell, it wasn’t even such a bad decision. That really is a very weak hint. Think you can talk to Brown? Maybe, as the company representative, he can give everyone tomorrow off?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Smith promised.

They left the worksite early – the workers certainly didn’t need convincing. After weeks of not having to worry about anything, Greg was relieved to see their discipline when they hurried back to camp in a close formation, the werewolves following them, already transformed. Greg and Boris, who was the burliest, each took one of the long flanks, Fleur brought in the rear, and Bernadette was on point. Nathan was riding at her side, crossbow at the ready.

They had managed about half the distance when they heard the howling, a lot closer than Greg would have liked it to be. Coming from two sides at once, too. Bernadette threw her head back and answered, warning them to stay away, to stay out of their territory. Greg struggled to resist the urge to join in himself like Boris and Fleur. Fleur, of course, didn’t lend much weight to the call – or rather, the warning. But Boris had been a werewolf long enough that Greg thought he wouldn’t have been able to defy his order to stay away easily.

He kept silent himself. He still wasn’t nearly as home in his wolf-shape as in his human shape, and anyway, if Fleur’s voice didn’t carry much weight, his would be even less useful. He didn’t realize his mistake until suddenly the answering howl came from only one flank – his. Before he could decide whether he wanted to answer their challenge, or not, they came into view, three werewolves on the crest of the small hill, much closer than Greg would have thought. They paused when they spotted him. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought they seemed surprised to see him as if his silence had made them think that this side of the truss would be open.

Their hesitation didn’t last long, unfortunately, and they came down the slope, albeit slowly. People behind him screamed.

Greg moved away from the workers, who were running as fast as they could in their heavy boots, to meet them, growling without thinking about it. There was still no sign of the fourth one. He probably should be calling for help, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. If he did, Bernadette would no doubt come to his aid. So would Nathan.

He shook the thick fur in his neck angrily and growled louder. Nathan alone stood no chance against three werewolves, especially not in a straight confrontation like this. And Smith was right as well: Risking the life of one of their very few elder werewolves was stupid, too.

He halted, almost halfway up the slope, where he could still keep an eye on all three of them. Strangely enough, he wasn’t scared. Angry, yes, but hardly even worried, despite their superior numbers. The wolf-part of him was only full of fury and disdain. This was their territory, and these Johnny-come-latelies thought they could drive them away and take what was theirs?

When Greg barked at them, the mad ones tarried. It was a strange sight to see: Two of them staggered back and forth as if they were so drunk that even on four legs they couldn’t stand upright. The last one first backed off at his bark, just to switch directions after just a few steps. It passed the invisible line in the middle between them and hurriedly backed off again. Greg wished he knew more about what was going on inside their heads. He’d have thought they would be more aggressive, especially with their advantage of numbers, but his steady growl was enough to keep them away.

As if they were scared of him.

But that made no sense, did it? In his brothers’ stories, mad werewolves were scared of nothing at all, or if they were, their blood lust was stronger.

Or was that just because his brothers were all human?

He could see all three of them craning their necks, staring after the workers, whose orderly rows had turned into a blind panic, stretching the line out much further as the slower men struggled to keep up with the mad stampede.

Did they still recognize him as one of their own?

But if they did, why couldn’t Bernadette order them away?

The stand-off lasted a few more seconds, and then one of the staggering ones found his feet and came at him, teeth bared. Greg planted his four feet and met him head-on. Only in the last second, he lowered his face so that instead of his jugular, all the mad one got between his teeth was the thick fur in the back of his neck. Greg snarled as a second one came at him from behind, and spun around, throwing the first one off. He never hesitated when he went for the throat of his second attacker himself. Before he got there, the third one crashed into his shoulder, throwing off his aim.

They were trying to push him off his feet, so Greg ducked as low as he could and tried to keep his legs out from between their huge jaws. If they could bring him down, he was dead, no doubt about it.

He snarled angrily when once again, a pair of teeth closed around the back of his neck. It hurt, so he reared like an untamed horse. At once, the other two tried to go for his unprotected belly and throat.

Working together.

Greg let himself drop as fast as he could. He tried to call for help without raising his head to howl. It came out more like a whine, not carrying at all. But somehow, even as his attackers came at him again from three sides at once, even over the growling and snapping, he heard the most beautiful music he could have imagined at that moment: A crossbow singing.

Abruptly, one set of teeth stopped trying to hamstring him, giving him room to shoulder another one out of the way. The third werewolf also let go of him. All of the mad ones were focused on Nathan now. One of them had a silver bolt stuck in his flank, his breathing laboured, with a rattling sound to it. The bolt had probably pierced his lung, but he wasn’t down yet, and still dangerous.

Greg could see Nathan hesitating. For a couple of seconds, his crossbow swung from one werewolf to the next, before he settled on the injured one. The second bolt hit square in the eye, taking one werewolf out for good. His crossbow now empty, Nathan turned his horse around at once, retreating fast.

The remaining two came after him as soon as Nathan’s horse turned tail. Greg chased after them, and he could see Bernadette, too, a little further on, still guarding the retreating workers, in case one of the werewolves realized how much easier prey the men on foot would be. Greg was fine with this division of labour.

After all, one mad werewolf was still missing.

Nathan would need time to re-cock his crossbow, especially with the horse in such a mad run. Greg wasn’t sure if he himself would have been able to do it at all. But he could buy his brother that time.

He tumbled first into one of the chasing werewolves, and then the other. It slowed them down, yet they both ignored him, fully focused on their fleeing prey. He did it again, anyway, buying Nathan a few more seconds, until his brother swung his crossbow up into the air. The last sunlight made the silver quarrel glitter.

Greg took another three steps until he was right behind the werewolf in the lead, and then took a huge jump. His teeth sunk into the lean muscle in the werewolf’s back and his claws harrowed at the sinews in his back legs. They both went down, but Greg managed to stay on top of his opponent.

As the other werewolf struggled, Greg had just enough time to watch as Nathan brought his horse around in a tight turn, to face his last pursuer. David would not have approved of this move: Nathan was barely twenty yards ahead of the last werewolf, hardly any room at all to aim and shoot.

Nathan’s crossbow sung twice: Both shots missed the eyes. One only hit the thick muscles of the shoulder, yet it was enough to make the werewolf swerve for one jump. The second one went through the neck. He still managed two more jumps, and Greg was terrified that all Nathan had hit was fur, but then the werewolf staggered and stumbled, and he could see the blood running from the jugular over the lighter fur on the chest, colouring it red.

Greg almost let go of his own prey in relief. The other werewolf noticed, of course, and made another attempt to buck him off. Greg let go of his back and snapped at his hind-leg instead. He was lucky and managed to get a good grip. When he bit down as hard as he could, he felt bones break. The other werewolf half barked, half whimpered, and finally forgot about Nathan, turning on three legs to face Greg.

It wasn’t much of a fight anymore. The wolf part of Greg’s mind knew exactly what to do with the crippled opponent. The blood went everywhere when he ripped out his throat.