“What’s the situation?” Janine inquired, hogging rations like a famine victim.

Wolfkins and Ice Fangs alike flanked the survivors, keeping them safe during their return to the base. As expected, Ice Fangs’ medics worked overtime on the Sword Saint, trying their best to stabilize the man’s condition, while the knight briefed the knight captain about the situation.

Ice Fangs eagerly offered their cloaks and tabards to the wounded, helping some guardsmen walk. Even here, shortly after the battle, the ice boys looked clean; their armor was well polished and maintained. In compassion, the Wolfkins were covered with dirt and gore, perfectly faking the smell of rotten bodies. Their armor carried signs of recent struggles: cuts and dents adorned the steel like medals.

A small fog came down into the morning forest, bringing along a gentle breeze and a little rain. For all the cold it had caused her, Janine welcomed the rain this time. It helped hide her occasional tears. She wasn’t sure for whom she was crying. Was it Bogdan, the son she betrayed? Or were these tears about the loss of the soldiers under her command? Maybe it was just a natural reaction to her tormented body? Whatever it was, Janine has tried her best to regain control over it, too. She can’t be broken. Otherwise, what was the point of anything?

“Rescuing the civilians and bleeding the Horde everywhere we can, ma’am!” Anissa reported, looking over the group once more. She gave a slight nod to Ignacy.

Janine’s growl sent two field medics to tend to the wounded civilian.

Her belly rumbled like a maddened beast, demanding sustenance. In the past day, most of her inner reserves were clearly burned, leaving her ribs pushing at the skin. Impatient One has offered to lick Janine’s wounds, but the Warlord waved her away, unwilling to show even a hint of weakness.

A Warlord was a pillar! Immovable, inviolable, always knowing what to do and how to act. A Warlord… she has no right to any weakness.

The field rations of the Ice Fang order were… magnificent. Janine knew no other word for it. The state has discovered many miracles of the Old World, one of which was a method of food conservation. Stored within a specially made wrapper, food could not only be preserved for hundreds of years, but it could also be made to retain all innate smells and even warmth, creating the illusion of eating a recently prepared meal.

And what a meal it was! Fish, mixed with cusack’s meat, was lacerated with a thin layer of nutrient paste containing a mix of vitamins and nutrients that helped digest the food at a more rapid pace, along with reinforcing the immune system. These weren’t standard-issue rations, but rather privately prepared cuisine for the order. Just a small wrapper—the ration itself weighing less than a finger and smaller than her paw—could sustain a soldier for days. Janine obliged the urges of her stomach and eagerly poured more of the divine feast down her throat.

“Ice Fangs still refuses to give us access to their communications and databanks.” Anissa’s claws tapped at each other. “When working together, they can see through our oculars and speak to us, but we can’t always do the same. It hinders our efficiency.”

“We can only offer our apologies for this,” the knight captain said, joining them. “I fully understand the frustration and share it too, but without First’s order…”

“Did anyone allow a male to speak?” Janine grabbed the traitor by the head, turning his snout toward hers. The Ice Fang held his tongue. “No? Shut up, then. I will solve it,” she promised her daughter. “What else?”

“The Provincial Army is making their final stand against the Horde’s invasion on the road to Houstad. Both their commander and Dragena have ordered us to stay away,” Anissa said uncomfortably.

“They will be slaughtered,” Impatient One stated.

“They will.” Janine nodded. “And so do we if we fight in the open field. Their sacrifices won’t be forgotten or denigrated. From this day on, the Provincial Army is our kin, in spirit if not in blood. What forces do we have at our paw?”

“Eled’s, Predaig’s, ours, Martyshkina’s, Mountaintop’s, Summerspring’s, and Voidrunners’ packs. Along with three thousand guardsmen and a bigger number of civilians.” Anissa put both paws behind her back. “Their numbers are way too large, so I have taken liberty and started sending escorts back to Houstad, using shamans and scouts from our pack as guides and protectors. Due to the increased flood of refugees, I allowed some hunters to join in the effort. Warlord Martyshkina and Sword Saint Bertruda had approved my decision, yet my hide is yours, Warlord, if I…”

“Beat it, Wolf Hag. Wise decision,” Janine grumbled. The mere thought of working side-by-side with the traitors irritated her, but what was the alternative? Let civilians die? Not an option. “Anything else?”

Janine knew that she should have been happy about the news, but instead, it angered her. They had a force capable of taking on countries, and all they could do right now was cover, save occasional citizens, and take out raiding parties like some sort of partisan. No longer. This is the home of their people, the people who feed and care for the tribe. The time for inaction is over.

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The knight captain tried to say something when Janine scratched the wounded side of her head, tearing through the dried-up blood around the eye. A medic from the ranks of the traitorous order came closer, demanding she at least use medical gel to prevent infection. Janine only sized the woman up, saying nothing and tormenting her wounds to combat the itch. Eventually, the medic tried to force her.

Impatient One ended up saving the medic’s life by taking away the gel and applying it to Janine’s wounds against all complaints. Then she bandaged Janine’s head with an elastic, water-proof bandage.

“Ygrite’s pack… well, now it’s more like Kalaisa’s pack with her leading them, and she’s joined us, too. The Wolf Hag is busy sending scout parties and rescuing whoever she can. Ygrite’s hit-and-run tactics worked superbly.” Anissa looked as if this admission had physically hurt her.

“She acts weird,” Impatient One added. “There are no dominations in her pack. Zero. When another Wolf Hag challenged her leadership, Kalaisa held the smaller woman as if she were a cub rather than tearing her face up. Something changed in her, and I am not sure that it is for the better.”

“Oh?” Janine’s ears perked. “Good to know the girl found her way. It’s a shame it took so long. No matter. Shaman, it is for a military leader to decide how a pack operates during a war. If she performs well, all is allowed.”

“Of course, Warlord.” The shaman bared her neck.

“Permission to speak freely, Warlord?” Anissa asked.

“Granted.”

“Bogdan. What happened to my brother? Where is he?”

“He died as a hero, saving lives. He perished because of my mistakes and failure as a leader.” Janine replied bluntly. She sensed how Impatient One tensed, releasing the claws. So, some familiarity remained.

Let it happen. Let Anissa and Impatient One hate her; despise Janine rather than the Horde. It will let them keep their heads cool and maybe earn some closure when the day comes and Janine ends up being overthrown or killed. Not to mention, it will keep the malformed and deserters safe. And Janine, in turn, will see Brood Lord brought ruined.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, although Anissa and Impatient One both dropped their pace, helping Ignacy walk. Janine heard them speak with each other and allowed her cubs to grieve in silence. She only once broke them up, inquiring where Marco was, and felt a relief at the knowledge that the little one stayed within the HQ, under Marty’s constant supervision.

Her stomach filled, Janine snatched a helmet from the knight captain, mounting it on her head with some difficulty. She summoned the HUD with some difficulty, calling up the reports of their numbers and ammunition.

So many were lost. Bertruda’s personal guard, her elite knights, lost half of their number. Leonidas elite task force, the Hoplites, was cut to the last trying to get to them. Idiocy! Voidrunner Household had suffered the heaviest losses, losing nearly four hundred troops serving as a rearguard. More and more losses showed up. Eled’s shamans, all aside from one, were gone. Predaig’s pack fared a little better, losing one out of four shamans. Her own pack… Janine started reading names, walking side-by-side with the traitor, the energy chords of his armor connecting them.

The Ice Fang did not lie. His traitorous mistress has requisitioned an actual mobile fortress for this war. Built in the times before the Extinction, these massive machines of war and destruction moved on three massive caterpillar tracks. The thick armor plates of this moving monstrosity were capable of withstanding a bunker bomb while absorbing the kinetic impact and keeping compartments within relatively safe. Four great mortars provided aid for the soldiers in the field, and a rich array of detection systems and radars have ensured that no foe will come close to it unnoticed. Nanomachines coursing across its outer hull changed the vehicle’s paint on the fly, mimicking the vehicle’s color to its surroundings while reducing thermal output.

The state, or rather, the order, had only three such great behemoths. Found by the Twins, these vehicles were inferior to crawlers in every conceivable way. No energy weapons, no shields; the engineering compartment was lacking and smaller in size… But their speed was second to none. Capable of speeding up to 150 kilometers per hour, this nasty hill of steel held many surprises.

This exemplar once belonged to the Summerspring Household; Janine had noticed their emblem on a hull. The Sunblades and the Wintersongs owned the other two.

Bertruda has positioned her small mobile camp between two hills, sending up two regiments of hunters to monitor the surroundings. Wolfkins were roaming in the forest, cutting down any raiders they could find. As Janine learned, this is where they found and saved the crew of the SAMs’ vehicles after the guardsmen were ambushed. Their attackers gone, Martyshkina’s pack brought back three vehicles and a battle tank.

Janine walked up past the ranks of soldiers, refusing to return the greetings of the Ice Fangs and warmly welcoming the new Warlords of the Eled’s and Predaig’s packs. Both women were shamans before, but in light of new developments, they shed their former ranks, reclaiming their original names, and joined the Warlords’ ranks. With pride, Janine saw how confident both of them were with ranged weapons already. Out of respect, the newly elected Warlords had decided not to change the names of their packs until the war’s end.

“Come visit me at the first opportunity. I will tell you all about their last moments,” Janine told them, deciding not to leave anything for later. Predaig and Eled deserve to be remembered and to have a clear conclusion to their stories.

The Warlord allowed the packs to passionately and a bit violently celebrate the survivors’ arrival. Her heart sang with joy at the sight of Elzada carefully hugging Ignacy before brutally dragging her wounded baby boy to the infirmary along with the civilian. The other Wolfkins started singing, thanking the Spirits for returning their comrades. With no hesitation or care, food and drinks were brought, guardsmen who could still stand, and even deserters and malformed were all taken to the ever-increasing party.

Janine allowed it, only ensuring that patrols were not goofing off. Some morale boost was needed. She herself stormed up the mobile fortress ramp and snarled at a figure atop it. Bertruda was dressed only in her regular clothing rather than wearing power armor as proper during a war. And next to her stood Marty, pressing the revolver’s barrel against Bertruda’s head.

Don’t look at her. Janine ordered herself to focus on Marty’s snout, allowing the visage of her friend to calm her nerves. Hold your temper in check. After the war.

Oh, how she desired to trample this shrew and devour her bones! To hear faint screams beneath her claws, to throttle the life out of that traitorous body. Holding back rage was never in the style of the Wolf Tribe, and Janine felt sweat coming beneath her hide, forgetting the cold of the Core Lands for a while. Kill. Tear asunder. Retribution.