“Yes, teacher!” Anji lifted the happy Marco, allowing him to stand on her shoulder while looking at the other Wolfkins. “The Reclamation Army comprises three major regions. Inner Lands, where the capital of the glorious Dynast is located.” Janine wanted to groan, seeing Impatient One taking notes. How? How is she not knowing this? “Once this place was a gigantic armory, containing an impressive arsenal from the Old World. When the Dynast found it, he made it his capital, bringing the weak and downtrodden from all around to the safety of its mighty bastions. At first, clouds of smoke covered the place while the settlers worked non-stop, building the foundation of our glorious state!’
“But after a few decades, and with the help of Iterna, we have discovered how to improve our industry in such a way as to not ravage the surroundings. Today, the Inner Lands are a sanctuary, a place of flowers and trees, with gentle rains pouring from the skies and blue rivers lazily carrying civilians’ boats.”
“Water. Yack.” Anissa shook her body, voicing everyone’s opinion on the annoying wet substance. Even Kalaisa nodded in solidarity. The Wolf Tribe could swim in quicksand and endure toxic fumes and radiation. But on some, almost instinctual level, they despised wetting their fur. Only Anji looked unbothered by the revelation. Janine tapped on a crate, returning everyone’s attention.
“There is also an arena!” Marco spoke quickly, afraid to lose the audience. “A place where the Dynast’s champions, Outsider, Blessed Mother, and Devourer, match each other in the Trial of Strength. Next come the Core Lands. These are the lands where most of the population lives, lands cleared of all dangers and where greenery has returned to the land… And uhhh….”
“The place is really cool,” Janine helped him. “Where a normal person could get a sunstroke in our villages, there is little to no danger of such a thing in the Core Lands. I recommend warm clothes, everyone.”
“Yes, I already… I mean.” Marco took a breath. “His excellency Devourer rules the Core Lands. Then there are the Outer Lands. This term is used to describe recently conquered regions and places where terraforming back to habitable conditions has yet to be started.”
“So, like… We are in the Outer Lands, right?” Kalaisa asked. “If Devourer rules the Core Lands, does it mean that the Blessed Mother rules these lands?”
“Look everyone, she is learning,” Anji beamed, showing a tongue to the growling Kalaisa. “Now, don’t wrinkle your snout, dear; when you’re not being an asshole, you look adorable.”
“Bootlicker,” Kalaisa cursed.
“Whore,” Anji retorted.
“You are correct, sister Kalaisa.” Marco nodded, trying to look calm in the wake of two women’s aggression. “We are in the Outer Lands. However, the Blessed Mother declined the right to rule this region, instead giving it to the provincial government, a gathering of mayors from the largest settlements around here. They vote on the various policies in the region, such as tax decreases and relocation of populations from dangerous areas.”
“Wait a second.” Elzada stopped throwing looks at Ignacy and scratched behind his ear. “Does it mean that only normies get to say what will change in the region? What about us?”
“Yeah, no fair!” Ignacy nodded.
“We stand outside of the normal government’s structure and live by our own rules,” Impatient One stated, looking at them. “Our rights to cull our elderly, mercy kill our infirm cubs, and use physical violence against each other… Normies may not take part in any of this. They are trying to nurse any of their cubs to health and can potentially live long enough for their hearts to stop on their own.”
“Barbarians. It is cruel to let a broken cub live and suffer in this world.” Anji shook her head in disbelief.
“Yes, just let the poor soul be reborn and live happily in a healthy body,” Bogdan supported her.
“I am not sure. In our day and age, prosthetics can do miracles,” Ignacy said, showing his metal arm. “Just look at it…”
“Yes, yes, we are very impressed with your new limb, brother.” Anissa hugged him, leaving a kiss on his forehead. “But some of us helped mothers during a birth. Trust me, when should you see a little body gasping and fighting for air yet unable to live simply because tiny, underdeveloped lungs are incapable of dealing with oxygen… You will do what is right,” she whispered, falling silent.
“Thank you, Marco. I will take it from here.” Janine nodded to her son, sitting herself on a crate. “Now about Houstad. Houstad City, or simply Houstad, as the locals first called it, was founded ninety years ago by His Excellency Devourer. Back then, the place was a hub for slavers and flesh traders, who were growing people in cages to trade with the Malformed and the Blood Court for resources and favors. After a month of preparation and with the help of the rebels led by the Oakster family, in a single night, Devourer put an end to it, staging riots all over the place and ending the lives of the ones running this city. After this, he started the long and grueling process of remaking Houstad into a proper city.”
She stopped for a second, looking at the Wolfkins before her. “Times were harsh back then. The state needed armor and weapons, and it needed them right now. Devourer’s rule hardly looked any different from that of a common tyrant across the wastes. It was an improvement, mind you, but a very minuscule one. Smog has filled the streets, produced by countless factories. A lack of safety measures saw dozens of children being sacrificed to the machine cogs, squashed or sliced by the moving gears. People were losing fingers; illnesses ran rampant…”
Janine closed her eyes, remembering that time. The time that she wasn’t proud of, but one that has happened, nonetheless. A sea of pale faces, toiling for a loaf of bread, producing weapons to force even more people into this hell. A few religious services provided but a moderate succor, and the wailings of mothers who lost their children were filling the streets.
“It all changed after an event known as a Coup.” Janine smiled, seeing the perked-up ears. “No, none betrayed the Dynast, not in spirit. The Blessed Mother came to Devourer, who was already big then, and admitted her fears about the state becoming just as foolish as the empires of old, and he agreed. Together, they persuaded Outsider to join them and then convinced the Dynast to stop the unending expansion, forging peace with the Oathtakers and Iterna. With new technologies arriving via trade with Iterna, Houstad became a thriving hub of prosperity. The skies cleared, and vast fields around the city were turned into enormous farmlands capable of supporting the state with an abundance of meat and vegetables. Till Ingo has founded the headquarters of his company here, and now they are working on how to mass produce cheap and affordable prosthetics for all.”
Still smiling, the Warlord stood up. “The age of warlords and tyrants is officially over in the Reclamation Army. Sure, some tribes, like ours, are allowed to live by their own traditions, which gives us a right to end the lives of their kin, but even we would be hanged if we dared to harm a normie. Slowly, more and more tribes are giving up their traditions or changing them, like the Orais did, and turning to accept the state’s law. The time of revitalization has come back at last, and we can see the fruits of our labors. According to the recent population census, the number of people living in Houstad is currently five hundred sixty-three thousand eight hundred.”
Their reaction fully fulfilled all her expectations about the shock they felt at the moment.
“I’m… I mean, how could it be, warlord?” Bogdan licked his lips.
“Half a million people.” Impatient One’s words were barely audible. “This is… how are they managing the education… How are they feeding them!?”
“You are joking, right, granny?” Janine allowed Kalaisa’s familiarity to slip this time. The girl had an actual curiosity burning in her amber eyes, one that had nothing to do with unhinged aggression. “There is no way this many people could live in one place.”
“It’s like a hive… A hive made of people,” Anissa exclaimed, fidgeting with her nose, and looking blindly before herself. She blinked twice and looked sharply at Janine. “How spread out is that place?”
“Houstad is the seventh-largest city in our nation.” This information caused the Wolfkins to look at each other nervously. Janine felt their uncertainty; the information that she had learned from the news had shocked her far better than any artillery barrage could.
She technically visited Houstad twice, once back when the Three Armies hadn’t yet existed. Not the original city itself, no, but the modern Houstad was a ginormous place, and Janine was involved in fighting in a quarter that now serves as the city’s north-west district. Ravager lent Terrific and her pack to the Twins during a mission to remove some slavers, and they swiftly cut through the opposition, freeing people from the meat cages. The Twins were the ones who were leading the joining forces of both Wolfkins, and it was the Twins who prevented Janine from delivering the ultimate punishment to the captured guards.
The Warlord remembered that place of horror. A meat market, as they called it, only instead of animals, the bastards served humans here. Hands and legs hanged on hooked chains in the stalls, flesh ready to be sold to the cannibals. Slaves… No, she corrected herself; people were standing still in cages so tight that they could barely breathe. A smell of blood and shit was rising all over the place, mixed with the horror that the slavers felt at the Twins casual passing. They tried everything, from robots to gunfire to energy beams. Two titanic white forms easily weaved around all incoming shots; a hit of a gigantic claymore was sending bullet after bullet back at the shooters, while arrows the size of a Wolfkin were spearing the opposition, not once harming the slaves themselves.
Janine had no idea how the Twins could be so serene, how they could kill only the opposition while sparing the ones who surrendered. She herself tore off a skin from the slaver’s torso upon seeing humans on his stall, overfed to the point of becoming balloons, their eyes gateways to sheer lands of madness. Janine showed no mercy on this day, exceeding in cruelty even her Warlord, leaving pools of blood in her wake and drowning herself in the bleating, pleading screams of the slavers. Only the Twins made her stop the massacre; the male himself hugged her, calming her beating heart with his words and telling Janine that she was better than this.
It felt weird speaking with the Twins and feeling their paws on your body. Where Ravager instilled some sense of divine reverence and promised retribution with her mere presence, her words, no matter how unhinged, carried a weight of innate charisma, yet she felt like a rising star in the making; the Twins, in comparison, felt like someone complete. As someone who has reached enlightenment and now wants to help you reach the same heights. Instead of reverence, they brought a promise of calmness and stability, and Terrific once said that she was freaked out by them because of this. Because of what their existence implied. In her moment of weakness, Terrific admitted to Janine that she was worried that she too might change because of the Twins. It was a small wonder that Ravager first thought the Twins were her parents during their first meeting. Janine had the same thought too, and she knew that they were not blood related at all.
In hindsight, the Twins could not bother. Most prisoners were set ablaze by the Dynast. The liberated slaves formed a new core of the population, and Houstad started healing the scars dealt by unhinged cruelty. The next time Janine visited an area near Houstad, it was to put an end to the attempted rebellion, leading to Devourer and Ravager teaming up to convince the Dynast about the need to build a better future. Janine saved a recording of Devourer’s speech to the Dynast, hiding it on an old tape among her belongings. It was a silly thing, but Devourer’s words touched something in her soul.
What is the point of replacing one tyrant with another? You told us that we are fighting to build a better future for all. It is time to own this promise and stop building rather than conquering. We owe better to our people, sire.
“The people voted for building wide, rather than tall.” Janine fought back the memories of the past days. “Houstad spreads for many kilometers, with only a few skypillars… sorry, skyscrapers, in the city. Several rivers spread the city into districts, with giant bridges connecting them. Houstad is a massive, sprawling trading hub, with thousands of immigrants coming past it, hoping to find a job in the Core Lands, and with countless caravans arriving from all over the world.”
“Shit!” Anissa cursed.
“It will make it a pain in the ass to defend,” Bogdan voiced everyone’s fears.
“Do not worry yourself with it.” Janine nodded to him. “The last time anyone dared to attack the city was over sixty years ago. The Provincial Army, the standing defensive force of the Core Lands, is no joke.”
“What about criminals, thugs, and slaves? How dangerous is it for cubs of the Ice Fang order and the youngest members of our packs to walk around the streets at all hours of the day and night?” Anji asked, patting Marco on the head automatically.
“None that I know of.” Janine raised her paw, stopping the following questions. “Houstad is a big place. Undoubtedly, some thugs do exist, but the police are doing a fine job of putting them down. The Assassin Guild has been disbanded, yet many of its former members joined the Investigation Bureau and were involved in rooting out the remaining slavers after the reclamation. It is reasonably safe for our kin to walk in both day and night, but may the Spirits help you if I will need to drag you out of any problems with the police!” Janine picked up a piece of broken metal from the ground and showed it to the Wolfkins before crumbling it into a ball. Her voice changed to one of cold anger. “Understand this. We are not on vacation. We will not live in the Core Lands. We came to resupply and regroup. Simple as that. Some fooling around will be permitted, but try to stretch the boundaries of allowed, and your hide is mine.”
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Calming herself, Janine kept telling them about the Oakster family and how they revolutionized farming in the area, about universities, and about the traditions and habits of the locals. She spoke with them for hours before finally turning off the terminal and ordering the Wolfkins to leave and eat their fill, with Anissa leaving for her operation to replace the missing eye.
Janine came to a door and waited for her “pupils” to leave. The moment Kalaisa passed by, Janine grabbed the fool by the wrist, showering her against a nearby wall.
“You have a talent,” Janine told her, closing the door after everyone. “To turn everyone against yourself in such a brief span of time is truly something.”
“The hell do you care, gran…” Kalaisa fell silent, feeling Janine’s claw on her neck. This time the Warlord felt no need to hold back her speed, giving the woman a taste of the annoyance that she caused in her.
“I am struggling not to cut you open from neck to belly,” Janine admitted honestly. “Kalaisa, you are alone.” Janine removed her claw. “Surely you saw it. Males might be beneath females, but your behavior has turned potential friends into foes. What is your deal?”
“My deal?” Kalaisa laughed hysterically. “Well, I guess it all started when my bitch of a mother and my scumbag of a father both died up on me and left me in the care of my newborn siblings," Kalaisa spat into Janine’s face, leaning against the wall. “Yes, you overgrown bitch, I am a motherless cur! The shamans always gave me shit, pointing out how blessed I am with my power and making me train and dominate all the time, never giving me an iota of free time in the pits. And aside from that, I had to maintain my tent, trying to keep my brother and sister from being eaten by insectoids! Even when my arms or legs were shattered, I still had to look for food and milk, feeding my useless mewling siblings, who were always hungry, all without a single bitch so much as to come and check upon me, much less help! No shaman, no warrior, no male—no one ever helped! Work, train, suffer, feed your sister and brother, work, suffer… Fuck it all!”
Kalaisa breathed hardly, kicking a nearby crate. Janine ignored the object as it flew past her, crashing against the wall. Had this behavior happened before the pack, she would have had no choice but to break Kalaisa for the disrespect. But alone, she had a lot more leeway in how to deal with this troubling youth.
“And then, after all the praise the shamans were giving me for my cruelty in the pits, I was given to Warlord Ygrite, the weakest Warlord of them all! And you know why? Because my useless brother and sister are of poor stock, and the family counts as a pack, as the shamans said!” Kalaisa slammed her fists against the wall, leaving two prints of her knuckles on it. “What was the point of all the training that left my arms and legs shattered? What was the point of enduring the cracked spine if they were going to just toss me like a bone to someone as weak as Ygrite? I was just a cub, dammit! How could I raise them to be better? I went to sleep hungry just to feed them! I deserve to be in the Alpha’s pack! I bled for it; I suffered for it! I earned it! And they all robbed me of it! My dream! Because of them all, I am in the gutter!” She stopped, painted hard, and ran a paw over her snout. “Basically, I will let no one else be happy because I’m not happy. Fuck unity, fuck pack, and fuck family. Spite and wailing are far more pleasant to my ear. My shitty family ruined my future. Now is my turn. Let’s see if they can tough it out!”
“But will this make you happy, eh, whiny brat?” Janine smiled, stepping back.
Kalaisa was fast. She faked a shocked look in her eyes, allowing her shoulder to sink as if from being struck. Only Janine saw through this; she saw the movement of muscles beneath her skin, and when the strike with the right paw came, Janine was ahead of it, taking the incoming fist onto her paw and stopping the strike dead. Her wound had long since healed, and now Janine felt as great as she ever felt. She held the struggling woman’s paw for a few seconds before releasing Kalaisa without breaking her fingers for her insolence.
“You should try to fight for fun,” Janine offered her, spreading her arms. “Come at me however you want; I’ll treat you like a sister during training, and we’ll get to know each other better.” She saw something in the girl’s eyes and continued. “We all have our own demons from the past. It sucks, but you can’t change it. You can only move out of it and grow up, standing on your own two feet, rather than allowing your frustrations to puppet you like a doll. I, too, am a motherless cub. I do not promise to be gentle or kind, but if you just let me, I can help you become a person you will be proud of. A happy person. Isn’t that what you want? To live up a little?”
“You…” Kalaisa frowned. “You don’t sound as if you want to dominate me.”
“Should I? The last time I put you down was to save you from Ashbringer’s wrath. There is no beef between you and I, Kalaisa. All I see before me is a lost cub in need of guidance.”
“Is that so?” Kalaisa furiously scratched behind her ear and retreated to the door, making slow steps and never once breaking eye contact with Janine. “Maybe I was wrong. He is off the hook. As for your offer, Warlord… Maybe I will someday. But only when I can grind you into a powder.”
Saying that, she slipped out of the door, leaving Janine in moderate confusion as to who Kalaisa meant. As she was leaving the compartment, her nose caught a familiar scent. Ashbringer was here, and she left a calling mark.
****
Following the smell, Janine opened a door leading to a small balcony platform, surveying dining compartment number 4. The crawler, for all intents and purposes, was a moving town, with countless corridors serving as streets. Even after several days locked within this steel coffin, Janine still occasionally left scent marks in its narrow hallways and corridors, mapping the surroundings far better than any terminal could.
And right now, she felt the scent of Ygrite’s pack. This left Janine wondering why Ashbringer called her here, of all places. The packs took some compartments as dens for themselves, with scouts and wolf hags napping happily in the airways and warlords having whole rooms for themselves. Out of respect, packs prefer not to infringe upon each other’s territory, feeling too stressed as it is.
Ashbringer looked down at the rows of Wolfkins chomping on the food. Just like Janine, Ashbringer was also a misshapen wolfkin. Her fur lay smooth instead of sticking out slightly, with ash rubbed into every strand that felt unnaturally silky to touch. Her head was slightly elongated forward, leaving the woman with smaller but longer jaws and giving her a weird impression. According to the rumors, one of the challengers who sought to take the rank from the warlord had called Ashbringer a ferret in her face. The entire pack held their breath, afraid to see what Ashbringer would do to the woman for such an insult. Yet as she lay broken and beaten, Ashbringer only laughed, flinging the woman’s body on her shoulder and carrying her to the medics. Some say they even became friends later.
Below Ygrite’s pack, a swarm of unruly Wolfkins, charged into the dining compartment, snarling at each other as they sought to grab the food trays from the tables and tried to plead for bigger portions from the cooks. Ygrite may have been the weakest warlord, the one who lost her title two times already, yet her pack was numerous. Always on the front lines, many of her soldiers had prosthetic arms or legs, some in a state of disrepair, some letting out a spark, but all covered with bright letters that marked well-wishes from the members of their packs. Out of all warlords, Ygrite’s law was that of survival. It does not matter what you do; if you still live at the end of a fight, you have to survive. Ygrite was censored by Lacerated One numerous time for ignoring the wishes of her pack about an honorable death, but she still persisted in her heresy, otherwise staying as loyal as possible. Covered in scars and recently healed wounds, the Wolfkins howled happily upon learning that today’s meal was mashed potatoes and actual steaks out of cusacks’ meat instead of nutrient paste, as usual in the last few days.
“Saw you speaking with that Kalaisa cub,” Ashbringer turned to her. “Stay wary of the bitch. She ain’t right in her head.”
“And who is?” Janine asked, confused why a Warlord would spy on a Wolf Hag. “Seems like no worse than you were. What was that boy’s name again?”
“Irrelevant,” Ashbringer snapped, looking aside. “I was absolved of all sin by the Blessed Mother herself. None of us is without sin, Sister Slayer Janine, so shut your trap and listen to me. You see these Wolfkins? Her brother and sister.”
Janine saw a shambling mess of a Wolfkin, covered in scars from head to toe. It wasn’t unusual for a male to be badly injured, especially if a girl took a dislike to him and use him like a chew toy. But a long scar around the male’s waist, dozens of ugly healed-up wounds on his arms, and the tips of his once sharp, long ears were cut off. His legs were swollen from bruises, and some of his fur has started to come off from the stress. The male looked around like a cornered animal, with a girl, bearing a lesser number of scars, standing next to him, holding him by the shoulder. Upon seeing Kalaisa come through the crowd like a torpedo, the boy started shaking with his entire body, threatening to drop his food on the floor.
“She did it,” Ashbringer stated flatly. “I asked around. People told me they were pretty close, until one day Kalaisa snapped and started tormenting them out of the blue. And when another girl tried to dominate one of them, she skinned her face and would’ve eaten her alive if not for Ygrite. Freak. Why maim if you are going for the kill?”
“Everyone is not without sin, like you said.” Janine frowned, seeing how Kalaisa showered her sister out of the way with a shoulder and threw her brother away with enough force to send him crashing against a table. The Wolf Hag sat dining, laughing mockingly, and ordering her brother to eat from the floor. “Ygrite just needs to beat some sense into her.”
“You are just as soft as our sister. Kalaisa is a motherless cur and must be treated like one.” Ashbringer shook her head. “I know that Anji is keeping an eye on your youngest. For our sake, I hope she can keep Kalaisa from creating a body. Otherwise, I’ll add another one.”
Janine froze in anger, understanding just who that bitch meant by ‘off the hook’. It was no miracle that she followed Marco into the room. Daring to bare fangs at my family? Janine breathed out, restraining her desire to leap at Kalaisa and wrenching her head clear off for daring, just for daring to think about harming Marco. The shamans and her soldiers might grumble at her for killing someone for a male’s sake, and Alpha might see her as weak, but she could live with it. What she could not live with was seeing her boy…
And how different is this boy? She asked herself. They all, Kalaisa included, are kin in one way or another. Seeing the trembling boy trying to crawl away from Kalaisa, seeing his sister trying to help him has filled Janine’s heart with rage. Marco had her. Anji. Even Ashbringer. Whom does this boy have to support him?
“Who allowed you to eat at a table, eh?” Kalaisa stood above her brother, kicking him in the side. He mumbled something, and Kalaisa’s smile widened. “I can’t hear your whining. Look at me.” The boy froze, and the Wolf Hag kicked him again, this time with her claws. He rolled across the floor, whining and leaving a blood trail in his wake as he tried to curl into a ball. The female Wolfkin tried to stand up between the two, and Kalaisa grabbed her sister by the throat, sending her flying away with a casual flick of her wrist. “I said. Look. At. Me.”
Janine did some pure evil things in the past, this much she admitted to herself. Like all females, she dominated males in pits, often breaking their fingers or leaving them starving. This part of her life she could never change. Neither Janine could change the traditions; she could only mitigate them somewhat by providing slightly better conditions for the males in her pack, preventing their deaths at the females’ claws at the very least. Sure, some of her warriors grumbled, but none dared to challenge her.
And truth be told, for years, she was no better than Kalaisa. Just because Janine was weaker doesn’t change the fact that males in her pack were covered in thick scar tissue for years, bearing the scars of her wrath for underperforming in the field. She could not change the damage already done.
But she could do something now too. Seeing the Wolfkin look up and wet himself at the sight of Kalaisa’s face drove Janine into a cold rage. No more. She jumped from the platform, sending tremors across the room and making Kalaisa eye her warily. Janine stepped into the sea of Wolfkins, sighing slightly. Her pack wasn’t strong in numbers. Starting a blood feud was out of the question. But a lesson was in order.
“Kalaisa. You and me.” Before Janine could speak, a voice spoke from the balcony.
Ashbringer jumped off the platform, landing far more gracefully than Janine ever could. Her soft touch with the metal floor has failed to cause any tremor; the Warlord never bent her knees, simply rocketing her neck as she walked toward Kalaisa. To the Wolf Hag’s honor, she never faltered. She stepped toward Ashbringer, lowering herself on all fours and allowing her fingers to bite into the metal. Muscles bulged upon her body, stretching the fur to the point of seeing the pale skin beneath.
And with a single, ear-piercing howl, Kalaisa propelled herself forward, leaving four holes in the metal floor. Faster than a bullet, the Wolf Hag appeared before Ashbringer; her paws are about to come together to form a thrust aimed at the midsection of the Warlord’s neck.
Ashbringer made a quick step forward and bowed, slamming her head with all her might against Kalaisa’s forehead. Janine smirked, seeing splashes of blood covering the walls as the Wolf Hag got planted face down, her legs thrown up, and her own jaw shattering the metal floor with enough force to crack it. The fallen body caused a tremor, which caused tables, cooks, food trays, and even some Wolfkins to lose their footing.
The warlord straightened herself and touched her forehead. Pieces of ash mixed with crimson blood danced around her. With a snap of her fingers, Ashbringer threw Kalaisa’s blood off her forehead and waited until the glasses in the room stopped ringing.
“I look at you and don’t see a sister or a comrade, Kalaisa,” Ashbringer finally said in a melodic voice to the groaning Wolf Hag. “Your reckless dominating behavior might cost your comrades their lives in a battle.”
The Wolf Hag’s skull became swollen. Pieces of exo-skeleton, a subdermal armor that grew beneath the skin of the strongest Wolfkins, pierced the skin, coming out along with a trickle of blood and showing a gleaming piece of skull beneath. Blood was flowing from both nostrils of the downed woman.
“And the lives of those whom they could have saved,” Janine added, coming forward. She put a paw on Ashbringer’s shoulder, ready to drag her away if the woman tried to kill the downed opponent. “Male or female, each soldier in our pack is a potential shield for a civilian, and you deny them this by ruining your soldiers!”
Ashbringer stomped on Kalaisa, bulging the groaning woman further into the floor. Kalaisa screamed from pain, but the Warlord kept on going, pushing her foot down harder and harder, until Kalaisa’s left shoulder blade cracked under immense strain and the woman let out a whine of pain, along with a fresh surge of blood from her mouth.
“You spat on our duty, Kalaisa, all for the sake of your petty enjoyment,” Janine mercilessly continued, pointing at the Ygrite’s pack, who stood aside silently. Usually, members of the packs had enough sense to stay away from the duels between a warlord and a challenger, but even so, at least some pack members were supposed to try and preserve lives. Ygrite’s pack simply glared at Kalaisa, uncaring. “And look around! You cared for none, and none comes to your aid in return.”
“So…What new? No one helped before either…” Kalaisa gasped.
“You are still young, sister.” Ashbringer has lifted Kalaisa by her head, ignoring the woman’s hastened breathing caused by sparks of pain from the broken edges of her skull shifting because of pressure. “For now, you are a liability. You are unworthy of your rank. Change it. The lesson is over. If you make me repeat this lesson, it will be your last time, potential be damned.”
Ashbringer threw Kalaisa on the ground and turned around, leaving without saying a word. Janine decided to stay behind, looking at the thrashing woman who tried to stand up.
“What…” Kalaisa licked her lips, standing up on her wobbly legs. “What am I doing wrong? Strength is revered, and I always lived by this rule!”
“You are brutish, not strong, Kalaisa,” Janine said. “There is more than one type of strength needed to be a Wolf Hag. You are strong physically, but you do not inspire loyalty, and your mind is fixated on self-pitying, preventing you from shining. Rather than indulging in your impulses, control them, hone your bloodthirst, and turn it inward, using its energy to make your pack better, stronger, faster, and more united than ever before. A single soldier is but a puzzle piece on the battlefield—a cog in a machine, if you will. Work with others to exceed, rather than putting them down.”
“I… don’t get it.” Kalaisa sniffed the blood, struggling to focus on Janine.
“Come to me later, and I will teach you what I can. For now, heal and apologize for your behavior.” Janine walked toward the broken Wolfkin, ignoring the sister who tried to stand in front of him. Seeing Janine, the boy simply closed his eyes and bared his neck.
Maybe she should’ve gone to Impatient One. The boy was broken, it was plain as day. Letting him live could be considered cruelty. Kalaisa’s treatment would kill him one day. A quick death and a fresh start in a new body or a new life in the Great Beyond might be just what he needs. But Janine refused to make this choice, giving the tormented boy a moment of calm by giving an order to the pack to treat his wounds and drag Kalaisa to the medics.