Thoko climbed onto Greg’s back again, while the pack surrounded them. The other werewolves all kept their distance, as they followed the elder, who was setting up a brisk pace. Greg was panting with the heat.

Eventually, they reached a steep mountainside with an open area in front. Several caves gaped in the stony cliff. Greg wondered if this pack had children, too. If they did, he couldn’t see or hear any, but they might be keeping quiet because of the human in their camp.

The elder sat down right on the dry grass, and most of the pack spread out around him. About half of the other werewolves turned human and lounged nakedly in the sun, two remained wolves, and the last one slunk away into one of the caves. A minute later, an old man returned, also wearing pants. One huge scar and a network of smaller ones covered his narrow chest. Greg recognized werewolf-bites, and couldn’t help but wonder how the old man had survived that, considering how slow these injuries must have healed.

The elder werewolf looked strangely at the old man, as he settled down.

Greg himself hesitated only a moment before he transformed. Thoko handed him his clothes and almost managed to pretend that this was perfectly normal for them.

“Well then,” the elder grumbled. “Your names, human?”

“Greg Feleke,” Greg said, mostly because he didn’t like the way the elder talked over him. “Her name is Thoko. What should we call you?”

The elder glared at him, and Greg cringed a little under the weight of his annoyance but managed not to look away.

The old man with the scar grinned and winked at him.

“You can call me Theo,” said the elder finally. “Now, let’s hear this crazy tale. Your father is a werewolf hunter?”

“Was,” Greg said. “Like Thoko said, he quit hunting when I got bitten.”

He had planned to give just a short explanation of what had brought them out here but quickly realized that the pack wasn’t after a succinct report of the facts. Rather, they wanted to hear a story. Thoko joined in, and they did their best to make it entertaining. Greg soon found himself exaggerating Duke Desmarais’s reaction when he transformed at Castle Blanc for the first time, and he tried to remember everything David had said about the fight between the Rot-giant at Deva Castle against Fenn and the Morgulon.

“That was quite a tall tale,” Theo said when Greg finally fell silent. “And we thank you for that, so you may stay the night if you want to.”

“But do you want to come with us?” Greg asked.

“No.” Theo looked around at his pack, and his gaze settled on the old man with the scarred chest. “I can hardly stop anyone who wants to go,” he added. “But I have no interest in human wars or human politics. You shouldn’t either, Greg,” he added, not unkindly. “You may be too young to realize this, but humans are not like us. There is nothing to gain from getting mixed up in their pointless disputes.”

Greg opened his mouth – he wasn’t sure himself if he was going to disagree, or say something to maybe defend his family, or otherwise convince Theo – when the old man with the scars got up and walked over, offering his hand to Thoko.

“Lenny’s the name,” he introduced himself eagerly. “You going straight back?”

At those words, Theo grumbled into his beard.

Greg looked a little dazed at Lenny, while Thoko shook his hand. Lenny dropped back onto the ground next to them.

“Right,” Thoko caught herself. “You want to come with us? That’s great! Mind if I ask how long you’ve been a werewolf?”

“Ah,” Lenny said. “That’s the tricky bit, yes? You want the oldest ones only?”

“Not at all,” Thoko said. “Greg’s only been a werewolf for about a year and a half, and he’s one of our older ones, actually.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration, but Greg kept his mouth shut.

“Oh, well, I guess that shouldn’t surprise me,” Lenny said. “Guess anyone older has either ran off or died, yes?”

“Mostly died,” Thoko admitted. “The ban on hunting has only been in effect since the summer solstice.”

There was a murmur around the pack.

“How can you be sure they aren’t going to change their minds again?” a woman wanted to know. She was about David’s age, probably of Valoisian descend.

“Because, if they do, the Valoise will overrun them, and the people responsible for the rebellion, mainly the Dukes George Louis and Desmarais, will be executed,” Greg said.

“And you trust them.” The woman was clearly sceptical.

“I trust my family,” Greg said.

“You can also trust in the work crews,” Thoko said. “They’re putting their lives in your hands. Without Greg, we – our whole crew, including me – would have died on the line to Sheaf.”

Theo frowned. “But there’ll be war, you said it yourself. So you’re not here to hire us for that railway work. You’re here to conscript us to fight the Valoise.”

Greg nodded slowly. “Yes, there’ll be war,” he said. “But the Valoise don’t have werewolf hunters, and anyway, we’re needed to fight the Rot much more than their soldiers. Only if their priests raise it, we’ll be needed.”

“But you’ve already got the Morgulon,” another woman said. She had light brown hair, that was going grey, and wolfish eyes. “What do you need us for?”

“Even the Morgulon can’t be everywhere at once,” Greg said. “And she’ll want to stay with the cubs for at least a while.”

“You should’ve gone to find the Red then,” the younger woman said.

“Who’s that?” Greg asked. “And where can we find them?”

Silence fell around the camp, and all eyes turned to Theo.

“She didn’t tell you?” he finally asked. “The Red must be the oldest werewolf alive, now that the Old One is dead.”

“The werewolf who protected the White Torrent?” Thoko asked.

Theo nodded. “The Red raised the Morgulon,” he said. “After her family was murdered. Old loner lives way north of Clyde’s Pass, probably the reason why she didn’t send you to find him. You’d never get there and back before winter hits.”

Greg nodded slowly. He was half tempted to try and find this “Red” anyway.

“If you’re not willing to come with us, would one of you be willing to try and find him?” Thoko asked.

Greg looked around without much hope and was surprised when one of the two werewolves who hadn’t turned human got up and trotted over, sniffing, as if she was looking for a scent. After a few seconds, the werewolf wagged her tail once, turned around, and walked off.

Theo sighed, but made no attempt to stop her. “You’re going to cut my pack in half,” he grumbled.

Greg wondered if he should apologize for that.

“Don’t,” Theo growled as if he’d read the thought off Greg’s face. “The Morgulon sent you, not your fault. Wouldn’t have tried to resist her, myself.”

The elder werewolf shook his head again, and abruptly changed the topic. “I see you guys brought fresh meat. Going to share?”

Greg looked at the one remaining wolf, then at the wild sheep he’d shot yesterday. “Sure,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure they had enough to feed the whole pack. Especially not if one of them remained wolf.

“Is it okay if we start a fire?” he added because he didn’t feel much like eating the game raw.

“You are going to start a fire?” Theo asked, sceptical.

“If you don’t mind, yes,” Greg said.

“What did you bring her for, then?” Theo asked, and chuckled as if that had been a great joke. “Keep the smoke away from the dens,” the elder added when Greg didn’t laugh. “Don’t think anyone will object to something grilled.”

The pack retreated a good distance when Greg began to dig another hole for their fire. Only Lenny stayed close enough that they could talk without shouting.

“I can’t believe you’re making a fire with your two hands,” the old man said.

“You mean you don’t?” Thoko asked while taking the game apart. “Not even in winter?”

“We’re all staying wolves throughout the winter,” Lenny said.

“What about new moon?”

“We stay inside our dens on new moon,” Lenny said, nodding towards the caves. “Don’t tell me you make your werewolves work through that.”

“No,” Thoko said. “There’s no way they could fight the Rot on new moon. We all stay inside our camps then, too.”

Lenny wanted to know more about the railway, and Thoko told him about the different stages of the work, about Eyal, and Isaac, and their family. It took Greg a while to realize that the one werewolf who hadn’t transformed was listening in from where he had spread out in the sun.

Thoko seemed to notice it, too, because she went on: “The camps are getting pretty comfortable, too. The crews are putting up housing for anyone who prefers a firm roof over their head. First Camp even has a Pub, first drink for every werewolf is free on new moon.”

“And after that?” Lenny asked promptly.

“Oh, you guys get paid,” Thoko said. “At least if you contract with Eyal or Gavrel. Paid in copper,” she added. “It’s not a lot, I’ll admit, but you get free food with all the crews. At least if you’re willing to eat the rations everyone else is eating. Greg usually goes to get extra, especially on full moon, but he’s not dependent on his salary, anyway.”

“Free food?” Lenny repeated. “With any crew? No way.”

“They have to feed you,” Thoko explained. “There’s no time for you guys to go hunting, the Rot around the Savre is too dangerous. You’ll get clothes, too, if you want to stay human mostly. You never did say how long you’ve been a werewolf,” she added.

“Seven years this summer,” Lenny said. “It’s not impressive, I know. But I guess every little bit counts?”

“Seven years, huh,” Thoko said. “That makes you very nearly an elder.”

“A what?”

“The Morgulon mentioned that after about a hundred full moons, the bigger Rot creatures are no issues anymore, in a fight,” Thoko explained. “We call them elders.”

Lenny laughed at that. “Me, an elder? No way. Seriously. No way. Theo is barely an elder. The Red, he’s an elder. And I’ll grant you, the Morgulon isn’t that old, but she’s, well, the Morgulon. But me? No way.”

When he realized that Thoko was serious, he laughed again, and called out to the werewolf listening in: “Hey, Broke, wanna be an elder werewolf?”

The werewolf thumped his tail on the ground lazily.

“Seriously?” Lenny asked, looking at Thoko again. When she nodded, he added: “Any advantage in that for me?”

Thoko shrugged. “Can’t make any promises,” she said. “For now, all werewolves get send to the railway, cause we need the lines. Transport coal, and steel, and all that, to make weapons for the war effort. So you won’t have much of a choice about who you want to hire up with. Once the lines are built – well, there are already nobles looking for werewolves to keep their estates safe. They probably would prefer to hire you over hiring a criminal who was given the choice between getting bitten and the rope.”

“David said they want more of us guarding the coasts, too,” Greg chimed in.

Lenny’s face lit up at that. “Think they’ll let me go to Breachpoint? I’ve got family in a village just north of there.”

Greg opened his mouth, closed it again. “I – guess so? The coast, that’ll be the frontline. If you want to volunteer for that, I don’t see why anyone would stop you.”

Lenny beamed at that. “I’ll see my grandkids,” he muttered. “I can’t believe... I promised myself I’d go back, no matter what, to see them at least once,” he added, looking up. “Never thought there was a chance I might actually see them grow up, though.”

“Do you know anyone else who has family in Loegrion?” Greg asked.

Lenny shook his head sadly. “Don’t mention family to the others of this pack,” he said softly. “It’s a sore point for all of them, one way or the other.”

“And anywhere else?”

“Let me think about it.”

Lenny backed away further when Greg lit some dry grass and dropped it into his earth hole, a lot less deep now that they were out of the forest, where he had carefully piled up some twigs. They caught fire within moments.

Greg sat back from the fire and looked around the camp. An idea had struck him, and he walked over to where he had dropped his pack. He rummaged through it, until, right at the bottom, he found a small tin. He had forgotten he had brought this at all.

“What’s that?” Thoko asked when he handed it over.

“Salt,” Greg explained. “One of Andrew’s rules for hunting: Always carry salt. I bought this back a year ago when we first left Eoforwic. Should be still good, though.”

Thoko nodded and looked through the herbs and roots she had collected in the forest. Salt would make a good addition to everything else they had.

Once the smell of juicy meat, sizzling over the flames, wafted through the camp, the pack drew in closer again. Even Broke turned human for the occasion and found a pair of pants somewhere. He never spoke a word, though, and neither did the last guy. Lenny told them in a whisper that the pack called him Blackpatch, because of the burn scar in his face, which apparently was black in his wolf shape.

“His own mother,” Lenny added softly. “Not sure he even remembers his real name.”

Blackpatch was the oldest, after Theo, and had been a werewolf for over seventeen years. He’d probably been a couple of years younger than Greg had been when he’d been bitten. Theo had been a werewolf for more than twenty years, and the two remaining women, Maela and Nolwenn, were both at about the ten years mark.

Each one of them a potential elder, if they could only convince them to come with them.

“What’s the name of the one who went to find the Red?” Thoko asked Lenny.

“Larissa,” Lenny said.

Thoko nodded and turned to Maela. “When she comes back here, will you thank her for doing that?”

Maela nodded but ran a hand through her long, greying hair. “She might not return for a long time,” she said. “Larissa isn’t one to settle down. Wouldn’t even be surprised if she comes by to see this railway enterprise herself.”

Greg looked up from stoking the fire. Before he could ask, Maela added: “She’s an elder, as you guys count it. Sixteen this summer.”

“Well, she would be very welcome,” Thoko said.

“You guys are awfully sure that it’ll all be all right for people like us,” Maela sniffed. “Your duke hasn’t even been crowned king, has he? All you have is a few new laws, now, because they need us. There’s no telling what things will be like five years from now.”

“No,” Greg admitted. “There isn’t. But nothing will get better if we don’t take the risk. We need to show people that we’re no monsters, or they’ll never lose their fear.”

“Easy for you to say,” Theo grumbled.

“I’m not even sure I want them to lose their fear,” Nolwenn said. “It’s the only thing stopping them from coming up here and killing us everywhere.”

“People will try and find you here, anyway,” Thoko said quietly. “I realize that’s not what you want to hear. But the secret is out. Both the Loegrians and the Valoise now know that werewolves can fight the Rot. No matter who wins, they’ll try to find werewolves to fight for them. If the Lackland rebellion fails, you’ll have to retreat at least into the High Plains, maybe even all the way up into the northern woodlands.”

Greg wished Thoko hadn’t said that when the other werewolves glared at them.

“So what you’re saying is that it’s in our own best interest to help you,” Theo growled. “Awfully convenient.”

“It’s your choice,” Thoko said. “That’s why the Morgulon sent us, not a bunch of hunters with cages.”

“And this duke or yours doesn’t mind,” Nolwenn said, sounding doubtful.

“Greg’s father is an advisor of Duke Desmarais, and Greg’s brother is an advisor of Duke George Louis,” Thoko said. “And Lane deLande – the Mad Butcher, as you call her – owes her life to the Morgulon. She agreed to not push the Morgulon to reveal any werewolf’s territory to anyone other than Greg. I’m not saying the dukes are totally happy about all this. But there’s also very little they can do right now.”

“Right. Sure. You really want us to believe that our best protection is the Mad Butcher and the Feleke Four?” Theo sniffed.

Thoko seriously seemed to consider the question. “Maybe,” she said. “Right now, perhaps. Not much longer, though. A few more months – or however long it takes to complete the line to Mannin – and your best protection will be every navvy who owes their life to a werewolf, and every traveller who takes the railway from Eoforwic to Mannin, crossing in a few hours a distance that would have taken a week before at best – also, maybe more importantly, every merchant transporting his goods quickly and safely. The fishermen of King’s Haven are already clamouring that they want a railway line, too, so they can send fresh fish to the markets at Deva and the southern heartlands. The farmers of Deeshire want lines to Deva and Mannin, so they can sell fresh produce to the cities. And everybody wants a line to Clyde’s Pass, so they can bring whatever goods they have there, in exchange for gold.”

She looked Theo in the eye. “Your very best protection may be all those mothers who are safely giving birth anywhere along the White Torrent. On every single market place in all of the heartlands, a town crier has announced how Duke Desmarais has saved them all from the White Torrent falling to Rot. By finding a sane werewolf, and making him protect the river. And no, I do not deny that most nobles who would love to have their own werewolf are thinking of you as a breed of especially valuable dog, rather than people. But you are valuable to them.”

Thoko looked around the camp. “All of you are. Whether or not that is enough reason for you to go back, that is your choice. You don’t have to decide today, either, or even tomorrow.”

The other werewolves of the pack avoided meeting Thoko’s gaze, and Greg decided to hand Theo the first piece of steak.

Lenny got the last piece, but was the first to exclaim: “This is really good!”

Greg smiled. Theo didn’t say anything, but Greg could still feel the mood of all the elders lift.

“Who else is with the railway so far?” Maela asked when she started on her second piece.

“Besides Bernadette, Calder, and the Morgulon?” Greg asked. “I don’t think anyone you know. Lee helps my brother find more werewolves, he’s four. And Marianne, she’s two, works for Duke Desmarais, not the railway.”

He listed all the other werewolves he knew, but most of them were so young that he was certain no one on this pack had ever heard about them.

“You forgot Jody, Mia, and Charles,” Thoko added when he paused. “With Eyal’s crew.”

“Right,” Greg said. “I haven’t spoken to them, yet.”

“I think I might have heard of this Charles,” Theo said. “In human years maybe a little younger than Lenny?”

Thoko nodded. “That sounds right.”

Theo nodded. “Morgulon mentioned him when she was here the last time.”

“I take it she travels a lot?” Thoko asked.

“She didn’t say?” Theo asked.

Thoko shrugged. “She only turns human on new moon, and sleeps through most of it. Right now, she doesn’t turn at all. The only human she ever spoke more than three words to is deLande, I think. So she’s still a bit of a mystery.”

Theo smiled at that. “A mystery, that she is. Yeah, she travels a lot. Mostly between the two mountain ranges, but sometimes up into the northern woodlands, too, and all the way to the Central Range. Keeping in contact, you might say. It’s almost as if she was waiting for something like you guys to happen.”

“Are there many werewolves out here, who’re older than her?” Greg asked.

Theo shook his head. “Not many. Significantly older? Maybe a dozen, all in all. But most of them are weak. Too old in human years.”

“Like me,” Lenny said, smiling wryly.

“Older than Lenny,” Theo said. “Say, someone who got bitten in their twenties would have to be, oh, at least in their seventies now, for you to really notice a difference in power to her. Cause she was born, not bitten.”

“And being old as humans weakens them?” Thoko asked.

“Sure it does. Not against the Rot, that’s almost entirely magical. But even with the Rot – if you compare the Morgulon with another werewolf who’s been a werewolf as long as she, but bitten, she’ll be stronger in every regard.” He shrugged. “Most of the really old ones are unlikely to make the journey to the heartlands.”

He stared at the last glowing embers of Greg’s fire, scratching his shaggy beard.

“Tell you what,” he said after a long while. “I still don’t really trust your dukes and that glowing future you’re painting. But the Morgulon sent you to me, and I don’t take that lightly, either. So I’ll send Maela, to call on a couple of other packs in the area. If they want to, they can reach us sometime tomorrow, and you can tell them. And if not, well, their choice, as you keep saying. Lenny can take you to visit some other groups.”

Greg looked up in surprise. “Thank you,” he said.

“Thank you,” Thoko echoed.