Janine hugged Colt, trying to be as gentle as she could. Her dearest wasn’t as young as he once was; his fur turned gray, his once pristine white fangs became yellow, and occasionally he started forgetting a word or two, sometimes mistaking Bogdan for Ignacy. But on this night, on this beautiful, sorrowful night, the light that she had seen in his eyes when they first went on a recon mission together has returned, and his arms have hugged her body.

They looked so weird together, she and he. Janine was a small mountain of muscles, with her arms as thick as his torso and her fur sharing the color of a night. And Colt’s body has lost weight in the past few months, struggling against some sickness. No longer could his now-thin arms wrap fully around her waist, stopping at the level of Janine’s ribs.

“You…” Janine bit back her tears, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. “Don’t have to do it, Colt. Exile is always an option.” She tried one last time. “We can go together! I am sure our cubs will follow, too!”

“We swore an oath. If you leave, how many will die? And besides, I don’t want to be a burden to others, Jani.” They didn’t look at each other. Her snout was on the back of his head, his forehead pressing against her belly. Their breath warmed their bodies one last time. “Sacrifice only means something when it is voluntary. This is the life I have chosen for myself, and this is the road I’ll walk to the end.” They broke their embrace, and Janine looked at his wrinkled face, noticing the missed upper lip and the countless scars ruining his visage. Colt smiled and took her by the paws. “You and the cubs have made me the happiest man alive on the road, Jani. With you by my side, even in the deepest night, I still saw nothing but the light. Keep the cubs safe. Ignacy sometimes frightens a bit too easily, Anissa is often careless during hunts, and Bogdan…”

“Colt,” Janine whispered. “They’ve all grown up by now.” Seeing the confusion in his eyes, she quickly kissed her soulmate. “I swear to watch over them for as long as I live.”

“Then I have no regrets.” The light came back into his eyes, and he stood up, letting go of her.

Janine wanted to grab him and run; she wanted to fall on her knees and beg him not to leave her alone, to tell him she loves him, that she needs him by her side, that their cubs need him… But this would be a sign of weakness in front of the others who had gathered for a farewell ceremony. Janine only watched, feeling her heart about to burst from pain.

Impatient One stepped forward, taking every step as if she were walking across lava. She grimaced, blinking away something wet from her eyes, and quickly mounted on a bone mask, hiding her face. With a trembling paw, she touched her father’s shoulder.

“It won’t hurt… Colt.” A whisper left her lips.

The old wolfkin looked up at her face and smiled warmly, touching the shaman by her wrist.

“Yennifer? Is that you, girl? Sorry, Dad couldn’t find those treats,” he said in an apologizing tone, “but I’ll try tomorrow! Surely someone on the base has some chocolate…”

“It’s fine, Colt,” Impatient One lifted his body like a feather, taking her father in her arms as if he were a cub. “Everything is all right. You have been a splendid father to your cubs. I lov… Thank you. The Spirits love you, male.”

Impatient One moved up, carrying the old man in her arms to the hut. Other shamans also followed, each either leading a gray-furred wolfkin by the paw or carrying them in their paws like Impatient One. Some sang hymns and prayers, trying to calm the shaken elderly. Others simply chat with those going on the last path, abandoning dignity and engaging in friendly banter to give their flock some relief before sending them off on the last journey. Male or female, it mattered not. The shamans acted gently with every elderly Wolfkin, asking them if they had any final wishes. Some regretted not seeing their family one last time, and then a shaman would record their words, delivering them to the missing family members. Others admitted to being hungry and were given the best food available. Some even wanted a hug, and this was granted, too. Colt had a single wish, and Impatient One has granted it, taking off her mask and whispering something into his ear.

“Duty is all,” Lacerated One stepped before the hut, coming to hug every Wolfkin sentenced to the culling. Her blood, blessed by the Spirits and dripping from the torn wounds across her body, helped even the most hunched person spread out and breathe with ease. Clarity of mind came back to them once more, awakened by a simple splash of blood. “Sacrifice is all. Know that you have walked the path of your life with excellence. No one will ever dare shame you! My kin, I ask you as a sister in blood. Do you come here willingly? Do you have any fears? If yes, voice them and be Exiled.” Lacerated One looked at the shocked faces before herself, witnessing them steeling with determination. “I understand. Should you change your decision, say it at any moment, my kin. Blessed be.”

Exiles were rare. This was viewed as something shameful or unthinkable by the tribe. An exile meant transitioning from the tribe’s laws to the state’s laws and leaving the lands of your tribe to live among the normies. In the past, a few seniors have asked to be Exiled and spent their last days in nursing homes run by the Reclamation Army, occasionally speaking with their families via video feed. Every Culling Lacerated One has asked this same question, almost desperately wanting to turn her kin away from death for awhile.

But old traditions die hard. In Janine’s youth, the shamans were crystal clear about it, and it fell to Lacerated One and the other shamans to uphold them, teaching every cub how to become a proper Wolfkin and a person who will willingly lay down a life for the state. Twice had the tribe nearly died in its birth as they tried to care for the infirm and elderly, only to allow foes to strike at them and lose both either way to the gruesome tortures. No one asked to be Exiled tonight. Even knowing what awaits them in the hut, no female or male backed down, embracing the traditions one last time.

They formed a line, fifty shamans stepping into the hut one after another, while friends and family of the elderly gathered around, letting out a wailing howl upon seeing a shaman stepping inside with their relatives.

Please, Sprits. Take my life, take my life essence, and give it to my soulmate and our cubs. Janine’s eyes focused on the trembling Impatient One, who walked toward the hut under the hawkish look of Lacerated One. One final test. Fail it, and the name will be returned. Complete it and be welcomed into the ranks of the shamans. Please make him young again. Please. Haven’t I served enough? Haven’t I given enough? Please, just one wish. Take from me and give to them. Let me take his place and let him live.

There was no answer, but she never expected one. Sacrifice was their lot and the price they paid for the abundance of gifts that the Spirits deemed fit to bestow upon them. And now Colt was sacrificing himself one last time to take the load off the Tribe. The moment Impatient One stepped inside the hut, Janine let out her strongest how yet, sending her sorrow and love to the white disk of the moon and numerous stars dotting the sky above.

All our sacrifices. They mean something in the end... right?

****

Janine fell from her bed, sweating and rubbing her eyes. The Warlord shook her head, banishing the memory, and looked around her room. A table with an empty bowl of food on it and three chairs. Just potato mash today; she sent the meat to the beaten boy. A black beret. Marco fell asleep during the study, and Janine allowed Impatient One to carry him back to the pack. Fourteen beer cans. These ones were drunk by Kalaisa when the bandaged Wolf Hag came to her for lessons. Tonight, they simply talked, with Janine forcing Kalaisa to loosen up a little and listening to her rambles before giving some pointers on how to treat her pack better. The Spirits only know if this will help, but this was a start.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Picking up cans, the warlord threw them into a small tunnel in the wall, sending them to be recycled at some point. Waste was not a thing on a crawler. Rotten food was getting changed into a healthy and safe-to-consume nutrient paste, broken equipment was reforged into something new; and sometimes even dead bodies were losing organs for the sake of the living.

The Wolfkin came to a mirror and spread her fur, checking up on the place where Ravager had gored her. Nothing but a tanned, rough skin remained; even the scar left by Ravager’s claw had disappeared. Curious. Yesterday, there was a pale, thin line. Janine had heard rumors about the healing powers of Ravager’s drool but never gave much thought to them.

Janine spread her fur to see if the long scar that Blood Graf left on her stomach was still there. Seeing it in place, she looked at the implants. By all rights, these were the things of the past—brutal devices reinvented in the post-Extinction world that connected her nerves to the power armor, allowing for a faster reaction. Compared to today’s elegant implants, these were the torture devices, their sockets sticking out like purulent pimples; the edges of her skin around the steel had gone white from necrosis; and once-gleaming metal had rusted a bit. Yet Janine had decided to never, ever replace them, for in doing so she would remove the last traces of him from this world.

“I am okay,” Janine told her reflection.

A sound of alarm horns stirred her calm and made the warlord grasp the Taleteller. Kicking her door wide open, Janine grabbed both Wolfkins behind them and charged forward, the axe in her jaws. A call to arms!

*****

Chaos triumphed in the magnetic catapult launch bay. Where the normies showed discipline and calmness, preparing five round-shaped spheres for the take-off, the Wolfkins rushed into the place at full speed, announcing their arrival with a howl and demanding a place in one of the magnetic catapults. Janine and her bodyguards themselves pushed away three Wolfkins from Dragena’s pack on their way inside. Slamming the butt of her axe against the floor, Janine let out a guttural roar, demanding obedience from the incoming troops. The surrounding chaos subsided, and Wolf Hags and Scouts all around unhappily fell in line.

“Captain Cristobo!” Janine rushed to the figure standing before the spheres. “What’s the situation, sir?”

“A settlement nearby came under attack.” The captain turned toward her, noticing two more Warlords and two Sword Saints stepping into the compartment. “The attackers made quick work of the defenders, eliminating all the perimeter towers and rushing the guard. They even hit the communication tower with a long-range artillery piece. There is no pack or patrol nearby, so we will use the magnetic catapults to deliver you to the war zone and save our people. All information we know of will be sent to you directly. Preserving the civilians’ lives is your highest priority. The survival of the attackers is irrelevant.”

“Yes, sir. Suit up at once!” Janine whirled around, facing Impatient One, who prepared to adorn Janine’s snout with ritual blood. “No rituals! Gear up immediately! Males, aid me!”

Impatient One nodded and let the bowl in her arms fail, jumping away to give Janine a wider berth as the bodyguards started mounting armor pieces on Janine, one after another, rapidly connecting wires with the sockets, and pushing the Warlord without a hint of reverence or respect. Ignacy rushed into view, clad in power armor. He jumped to help the males, wielding his new arm with the same ease as his original limb and easily activating the power armor’s generator. All around them, power armor pieces were coming from the floor, sent in from the armory, and the Wolfkins jumped to the engineers, accepting the normies’ aid with no hesitation.

“Curses,” Predaig said, spreading her arms like Janine. Her fur had already started going gray in several parts of her body, giving her hide a spotted look. “We haven’t even left the Outer Lands yet, and Devourer immediately fucks up!”

“Enough!” Janine snapped, showing her fangs. As if the raiders never attacked when the Wolf Tribe was here! “I came first. I lead.”

“You lead. We follow.” Eled and Predaig both bowed quickly.

“I follow,” Impatient One said.

“We follow!” The mixed group of the assembled Wolfkins howled.

“I follow.” Bertruda stepped forward.

“No.” Janine looked her up, noticing a limp. “You stay. Too valuable to lose to the wounds.”

Bertruda’s face twitched in annoyance, and Camelia put her paw on her shoulder, stepping forward. The Sword Saint was still dressed in a light nightgown, carrying only her sword in the sheath at her back.

“I follow,” she said with a tone that left no room for objections.

Janine sighed. Change is needed. At the dawn of the Wolf Tribe, the Warlords did not allow their packs to mix up even in the face of immediate danger, forcing them to engage as separate units lacking in overall command. This cost far more lives than could be allowed. Now, a host of Wolfkins from various packs, including even Alpha’s pack, have willingly submitted themselves to Janine, giving their hides in her care. Like it or not, she can’t spurn away help from someone as strong as Camelia without endangering the soldiers under her command. And she did show up earlier than the others.

“Accepted. But we have no time waiting for your armor, and neither will you hold back, Sword Saint.” Janine’s eyes burrowed into Camelia’s crimson eyes. The Sword Saint made no nod or bow; she leaped to the side, tearing off her gown and grabbing a Wolf Tribe’s regular power armor meant for a shaman, putting it on with the help of Bertruda and Impatient One. If the Sword Saint felt any pain upon having the cords of the power armor connected to the implants of her body without underarmor to serve as a softener, she showed no sign of it.

“I follow.” Kalaisa, still bandaged and with one arm barely working, stepped forward.

“No,” Janine said, spotting Anji stepping in. “Wolf Hag Anji will follow. You stay.”

“But I was here first! I…” Kalaisa stopped, finding that the Taleteller’s edge pierced the skin at her neck, drawing blood.

“Submit,” Janine demanded, and the stubborn girl for once made the right choice and bared her neck. Haste and a decision to reward the good behavior kept Janine’s jaws from delivering further punishment. Kalaisa stepped back, quickly joining the engineers who helped Anji gear up.

“Don’t you dare die out there, Bootlicker,” Kalaisa hissed.

“I didn’t know you cared. It’s so sweet!” Anji’s lips spread in a mocking, honeyed smile, causing the other Wolf Hag to groan while putting on the helmet. “Don’t worry, Kali, I will be just peachy.”

“Kalaisa! The name is Kalaisa! You owe me three lives tonight for the butchery of my name!” Kalaisa rasped, trying her best not to bite the other woman. “Your hide is mine to take.”

“Aww! I’ve made a frenemy! Shall we paint each other’s claws later?”

“Go to the Abyss!”

Janine let go of her axe, allowing the bodyguards to put on the metal gauntlet. Next, they put on the helmet, and she blinked, looking upon the updated-looking HUD, filled with the unknown names of the soldiers under her command. She gasped, feeling how Ignacy rammed a cord into the implant next to her spine, sending a small, piercing feeling of pain as her nerves received an electric jolt. Taking her axe back, Janine turned around, stepping into the closest sphere and allowing Impatient One and three other Wolfkins to join them.

Camelia stepped away from her helpers, taking two unsteady steps before fully adjusting to the bulky black power armor around her body. Despite the heavy power armor, her following steps produced no sound. With a graceful bow, she accepted a shardgun, mounted it on her back, and took out her blade. It trembled in her paw, elongating and becoming longer and longer, merging with the steel sheath that came apart in a trickle of liquid and ran up the Sword Saint’s arm. Two pieces of her true weapon had joined, and a heavy-looking spear remained in her grasp. Its blade edges were so long that they stretched one quarter of the spear’s length.

Camelia Wintersong had a unique power, impressive even amongst her peers. By adding her own blood to the alloy, she could imbue it with her own essence and manipulate the sturdy alloy, changing and shifting it like a skilled sculptor working with clay. In battle, should the Sword Saint find herself hard pressed, her own battle plate would flow, closing the cracks and breaches and restoring the integrity. Wounding the lower end of her spear around her wrist like a whip, Camelia stepped toward the launching catapult, sitting inside along with Anji, Ignacy, and two other Wolfkins.

Each member of the relief force only needed a little more than two minutes to prepare and sit in the spheres, where harnesses kept them secure. At the end of the third minute, the magnetic catapults propelled the spheres at incredible speed, sending them at a rapid speed to battle. Janine calmed herself, summoning the brief information available about the attackers.

Their destination was a small border settlement at the edge of the Core Lands and Outer Lands. Just a regular place, surrounded by a stone wall with four security towers at the perimeter, the population of this city mostly thrived thanks to the nearby mines. Around half an hour ago, an armed group stormed the place, taking out two towers at the same time and creating a gap in the wall wide enough for the entire assault force. The one who called for help was a store owner’s daughter, who had managed to slip inside the ruined communication tower and send up the relief signal that was being picked up by the crawler’s operators. The girl was naturally panicked and distressful, often making mistakes in her statements. At first, she screamed about thousands of attackers, but soon calmed down and admitted that there were probably far fewer raiders. She spoke about the horrible screamers who sliced her family in two and whimpered for help, failing to provide any more useful information.

Aside from one thing. The attackers wore power armor covered with golden embroidery. The operators asked her to hide for the time being.