By the time Aranea woke up, it was a whole new day. She stretched her limbs, lifting herself from the small bed near the window, still half confused about where she was and was right now. The halfbreed moved her limbs carefully, checking for pain, and upon finding that there was none, she yawned. Aranea looked at the terminal near her bed. It took her a good moment to understand that this was something new. When she was falling asleep, there was no machinery here. It seemed to be installed while she was sleeping. The metal box with her belongings was gone, instead a series of lockers were installed in the room, the key to her locker was on the table near the terminal. She used the key to open the locker and let out a disappointed sigh. All her belongings were gone. Not that there was much worth to begin with; a few tokens were easily replaceable and there was little worth. The wooden carving that she bought at the market once was ruined by parasites. It was pretty, but she can live without it. Loss of clothes was a bigger issue. She could get replacements here, but they were of military stock. Aranea had doubts that she would ever be near a large market soon. Then again, what needs does she have for the civilian clothes anymore.
The wolf hag checked the terminal and understood that she had slept for well over ten hours. It was unusual for the command to allow someone such extensive leave. What in the world happened? There were barely any messages for her on the terminal, although Till Ingo demanded to see her. This request was approved by Foulsnout, forcing the Aranea’s paw. Like it or not, she had to meet with the man.
She walked out of the room and nearly crashed into Janine, who was quietly arguing with Alek about something. Seeing such a huge creature, almost twice the size of the sergeant, showing restraint was weird. Usually, warlords just slash anything in their path and then add some more for the arrogance of daring to question or stop them. The times were indeed changing. Either that, or people were changing.
"I can’t let you take it without the permission of…" Alek stopped as they both noticed Aranea.
"Aranea. You were out cold, and I took it on myself to inform the families of the dead…" Janine, who always spoke with confidence, sounded almost apologetic right now. Flamecaster was removed from her hand, showing a stump of flesh, filled with machinery inside. Her formerly huge iron jaw was gone, replaced by an elegant looking metallic jaw. Instead of covering her entire snout, the new jaw mimicked the size of the long-lost natural jaw. The lower jaw had lips made of rubber, which returned the warlord's ability to smile or make expressions back once more. For good or bad, someone restored Janine's ability to bite her subordinates once again by adding the metal fangs on the lower jaw. Aranea was thankful for this, actually. It has been a long time since Janine enjoyed a good chunk of meat.
In the hands of the warlord was a box with items of the deceased members of the pack. It was the custom of the Wolf Tribe that the direct superior of the deceased informed relatives of the deceased, if they were still alive. Shamans could only inform the deceased if their superior was dead. It was unheard of for a warlord to take it on herself, warlords were far too busy for this kind of stuff.
"Warlord. I am sorry for bothering you so much…" Aranea started to speak. She felt ashamed. Just how weak was she that the warlord herself was doing her job? The belly of the warlord was still tightly covered by countless stitches, some of them even bleeding slightly, covering her green pants into red. Janine was breathing heavily, probably because it was hard for her to stand due to still damaged lung. Her unzipped jacket hid the rest of the body, but judging by wet spots here and there on the pants of the warlord, her wounds were far from healed.
""It’s fine. This is only because I'm feeling generous," Janine felt embarrassed because she was always punishing others for the smallest mistakes, "I have nothing to do anyway, they keep me locked in the medical room and you know…" She stopped, trying to think of some way to get away.
"Of course, warlord," Aranea nodded, asking with curiosity, "How is your new jaw? Is it hurt?"
"Aranea, this is a simple prosthesis," Janine snarled at the wolf hag, trying to get a better hold on the box, "Why in the world should it hurt?" I find it satisfactory, once more I can breathe normally and ea..."
The warlord jerked when a photo fell from the box. Before Janine could move, Aranea caught the photo, briefly looking at it. A one-eyed wolfkin girl was in the photo, her eyepatch was over her missing eye. Janine, far younger than right now, still had her natural jaw and both hands were standing on one knee smiling, her left paw on the shoulder of the girl, while an unknown person was taking the photo. Alek looked at the photo briefly before the warlord snatched it away from Aranea’s paws, burrowing the photo inside the box.
"You are the one, who was her…" Alek wanted to say something but stopped as the jaws of Janine closed on his neck. She held him in place for a bit, not biting his skin but merely warning him, before releasing him.
"I have no idea… no idea what you are talking about," Janine was close to losing her composure, her teeth were clacking, her eyes looking around for a way out, "It’s nothing. You saw nothing, it was just a fluke. She was… Shaman was a perfect, perfect spiritual leader, you heard me?! She had no mother, she was just… I won’t let anyone taint her by connecting her to…" With heavy breathing, the warlord forced herself to calm down, looking at the wolf hag with ice eyes, "Aranea, if you want this duty, you will have to challenge me for this right." The moment Aranea bared her neck the warlord stormed away, satisfied that her subordinate had no intention of challenging her leader.
"Aw, man, that's what she meant… Damn, I feel like a fool for not connecting the dots earlier," Alek scratched his remaining hair behind the back of his head.
"Scarred One, she was Janine’s daughter, right?" Aranea asked quietly.
"There is a bit more to this," The sergeant tried to explain, while keeping a guilty smile on his face, "Shaman told me that she felt inadequate, unfit for her rank. If I understand right, parents in your tribe rarely help their kids. Janine, on the other hand, was always there for Scarry, if I understood her right. Shaman was supposed to sentence some girl to her death, but after pleas from her mother, she helped to hide the child. Scarry always felt that she failed her duties as shaman because of this, this was her first and only trial of worth among youth. She could not bring herself to end any kids' lives and ended up approving all kids as worthy to live, even "defective" ones, whatever that meant. Because of this, she always wanted to distance herself from her mom. Janine helped her and always believed in her. And Scarry felt that she had failed her mother and her role as shaman but was too ashamed of stepping down to ever tell the truth to her mom. This is why Scarry never answered or returned calls from her mother."
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"How do you know all of this?" The Trial of Worth was one of the cruel practices of the Wolf Tribe. Shamans carefully examined all newborn cubs, "removing" those they believed were too weak to live.This horrifying practice might have been of use when the tribe was on the verge of death, back when the world almost died, and food was scarce. In modern times, Aranea viewed it as insanity and a crime. But weak as she was, right now she had to endure its presence. A day will come when she will find a way to stop it. By force if needed to be. This she vowed to herself.
"Scarry and I hooked up after the drinking contest. We shared some stories during one especially passionate night. She told me her story. I was surprised, but Scarry told me that no one will believe me anyway, even if I run my mouth. In exchange, I told her my story. Then we had our fun… I even still have some scars on my back from that night."
Aranea looked at the man in disbelief. She half considered him lying, but something in his face convinced her otherwise.
"Wolfkin and normie? That’s… I mean, she was like twice your height! She could rend you asunder with a twitch of her claw! Scarred One could react to bullets! How in the abyss could you two even copulate together!?" Aranea stopped herself, putting her hand on her snout. Who cares about who dated whom? She grabbed her head, trying to figure out what she should do with this information. Part of her wanted to run after Janine. But the warlord was always a traditionalist. What if she would hate her daughter for this?
"I am a resourceful individual, and Scarry could actually hold back a lot. You know the saying, "Life will always find a way" and all that, right? First, we found a secluded spot on the mountainside, then we brought a lot of booze, prepared our tent and…"
"No! I don’t want to hear any more of… It is disgusting to even think about it! Shame on you, shame on you both!" It took a moment for her to calm down again as Alek flashed a wide smile, showing that he was missing some teeth. The man tried to look cheerful, and yet there was something odd about him right now, "Keep this information to yourself for now, please. Janine has her own version of events. She… has a lot on her mind right now," Janine's cubs were all supposed to be dead. Her distant descendants still lived among the Tribe, but Aranea always thought that direct descendants of the warlord were no longer in this world. Janine clearly assumed that Scarred One wanted to distance herself from her mother because, according to traditions, shamans were supposed to abandon their name and rank to eliminate the chance of nepotism. But this was the one rule that barely held. Shamans spoke to their parents all the time. Revealing the truth to Ironjaw right now would be far too cruel, Janine will blame herself for not trying to reach out to her daughter harder, "I don’t think she can handle the truth, not right now. But… Tell her what you know in a few months. Just for the Spirits sake, keep your mouth shut about "Scarry" nickname or I can’t guarantee your safety. And omit the fact that you two, were… You know."
"Sure thing," Alek said, briefly serious for a moment. Something akin to sadness ran across his features, before he faked a smile, "We never know what we had until we lose it, eh? Anyway, Leila plans to have a party tonight, something about celebrating our survival. You're in?"
"She should still be in hospital…" Aranea shook her head, throwing frustration away. No one was planning to stay and heal their wounds, it seems, "Sure, I will come. Someone needs to keep an eye on you lot and make sure that nothing will happen."
The wolf hag smiled to Alek and left to find the quartermaster. The old man admitted that, by orders of Scorpio, some renovations had happened in these barracks. While the belongings of Aranea were thrown out, some clothes still remained. The Wolf Tribe had their own stock, provided by the state. The Reclamation Army tried to keep the new breeds happy, thus showing them some leniency. Aranea gave her current clothes to be washed away and took a white shirt, brown leather pants, and a black leather jacket with a hoodie. The jacket was a little too small for her, but Aranea decided to make the best of a bad situation and pulled it on anyway, tearing it at the shoulders. Out of sheer spite, Aranea left an official complaint, mentioning the loss of her belongings, before asking the quartermaster if this would cause him any trouble or not. He was one of the normies who always worked with Janine's pack, and Aranea did not want to cause him any harm. The old man just waved his hand, saying that during the battle he was in the bunker. Redecoration happened while he was away, thus no one would pin this on him. In the end, he even helped her file this complaint.
It was the dawn of a new day. The wolf hag saw Janine, surrounded by soldiers led by Martyshkina. The warlord pointed his revolver at Janine's leg and gave her a choice: either she returns before she permanently injures herself, or Martyshkina will force Janine to take some time to recover. Ironjaw snarled in response, but eventually allowed herself to be led back to the hospital, clutching the box containing the deceased's belongings to her chest. Aranea tried to erase this scene from her mind. Never before had she seen her warlord so frail and vulnerable.
While she was sleeping, insectoids descended upon the battlefield, followed by the various predators of the Ravaged Lands. Here and there, on the plains filled with the dead, could be seen flashes of fire, as teams of soldiers were eliminating pests, still searching for survivors and recovering dead bodies.
The sun was lazily rising, and the scorching heat was returning, forcing every soldier and civilian in Chokepoint A to wear at least anti-heat suits. The golden form of Wyrm Lord was still visible near the hospital, a mountain of ravaged golden scales. His wounds closed overnight, and his leather wings started to regrow at an incredible speed. If things continue as they are, the golden wyrm will be able to fly again in a matter of hours. Two crawlers were standing to his left and right side, long cables ran from them to his back, needles, bigger than houses, were injected into his back, sending some medicine running by cables into the commander’s body. There was a pile of meat in front of the commander, big enough to feed the entire town for a week. For a Wyrm Lord, it was just a snack, and he hungrily devoured it, uncaring about his dignity. This was the first time that Aranea saw him standing on all four limbs, like other wyrms. Light was still shining from his scales, emanating the same calmness as before. After yesterday's display of force, no one would dare call Wyrm Lord a weakling. For a brief moment, the legends came back. Legendary times when Ravager, Outsider, and Devourer trampled and crushed the enemies of the state were brought back to life through the might of Wyrm Lord. Now, more than ever, Aranea understood why Devourer chose to remove himself from the front line and argued for restraint among the new breeds. Some of them were truly too powerful.