“Is something wrong, Warlord?” Impatient One asked when Janine asked her to stay.

Janine did little to change the place; she just carefully gathered up the carpets and placed them in the corner. It felt wrong to stain the gorgeous cloths or ruin the exquisite tapestries with the blood that seeped from under her bandages as she scratched furiously in her sleep. With the Taleteller in paw, she slept and woke up reinvigorated and ready for anything.

Immediately after waking, she checked her pack and was slightly disappointed to learn that Anissa had already visited both the armory and the wounded, completing both their duties. After eating and talking to Alpha, Janine had summoned Impatient One, who arrived with letters to be sent directly to the families of the deceased Wolfkins in each pack. Janine read the condolences, added her own touch and scent, and signed them, grieving for the lost.

“Just Janine between us. Sit with me, Yennifer.” Janine pointed to the floor.

The eruption of aggression didn’t come a second too late. A kick that aimed fully released claws at the warlord’s eyes was stopped by a paw that grabbed the shaman’s ankle. Janine pulled her daughter closer, knocking her off balance and pinning the smaller woman to the ground, biting at her neck.

“You dare? You dare use that name?” Impatient One roared, trying to elbow the opponent.

Ignoring the pointless struggle, Janine sank her fangs deeper, forcing the shaman to relearn a very important lesson. Skills, knowledge, and determination—all these factors played important roles in war. A fight could be won by blinding the enemy. The correct usage of every pack member’s talents inevitably led to victories, despite differences in numbers. And a stubborn refusal to die could lead to a survival against all odds.

But all this was useless in the face of overwhelming power. The Wolfkins sought pure, primal might. For without power, it wasn’t possible to do or change anything. Janine held Impatient One in the hold, blooding her neck until the fierce girl submitted, accepting the victor.

“What do you want, Mom?” Yennifer asked, and the jaws released her. She accepted a cloth to clean her neck and exhaled as if a weight dropped from her shoulders and her posture shifted. She straightened her shoulders, crouching no longer, tossed her hair back, and grinned mischievously, shedding the readiness and seriousness of her position.

“You mentioned that you did your part.” Janine furrowed her brows. “Elaborate.”

Yennifer rolled her eyes, sighing, her fingers twitching, and cracked her neck. A loser obeys the winner. Shaman or wolf hag, every Wolfkin respected that sacred tenet, never disputing it and understanding the strength of the bond forged by shared brawls. They learned their place in a pack and in the world, constantly self-improving to avoid letting the ruling structure grow stale.

“Have you ever wondered why there are so many motherless curs living in our villages?” Yennifer asked, looking at Janine with warmth in her amber eyes. Her elbow touched the floor, and she rested her head on the fist. “Shamans cut their ties with their families and surrender their names to ascend above petty notions of personal glory and focus on what is truly important. That is the said-out-loud part, which leaves us with the fact that it is unwise to remove fertile females if we truly care for the future,” she chuckled, pressing a paw to her mouth. “I’m surprised no one noticed it earlier.”

“How many?” Janine demanded to know.

“Counting the stillborn and those who died? Ten,” Yennifer answered. “Two litters. The first was... difficult. Six still live to this day.”

“Congratulations, Yenni!” Janine leaned back and hugged her daughter, and Yennifer returned the hug. “Where are they?” Grandchildren! Six of them! Boys or girls, who cared? Marco, Anissa and Ignacy will be so happy to meet their cousins! “Are they healthy? What are their names? Do they need any help? How soon can we meet them?”

“Never.” Yennifer flipped her off, stopping Janine’s lunge. “You can kill me, Mom, but I’ll never tell you or anyone. Upon birth, our cubs are taken away before we can even scent them. In secret they are delivered to a village chosen at random and left in the care of their parent. Don’t worry, they are certainly happy with my mate.” She smiled, more shyly this time, and quickly banished it in favor of the previous smug grin.

“But… why?” Janine asked, stunned. “These are cubs! Family! Pack!”

“You dare ask why?” Impatient One rose, looming over the warlord. “Are you truly this oblivious? My callous nepotism caused Marco to grow disobedient, and he was hurt.” She paced back and forth, sniffing and growling. “Think it was easy for me to give them up? No, it wasn’t. There is not a day when I don’t think of them, but not knowing their muzzles, I learn to think of you all as my cubs. The shamans must be beyond reproach, pure, and dedicated. If not, well, you know what happens. If I commit faults now, imagine what disaster I would’ve caused over my cubs if they were nearby?”

“What happened with Marco wasn’t your fault, Yennifer,” Janine said. “You are not to blame.”

“Yeah, sure, feed me more cusackshit!” Impatient One said the words, but the intonation unmistakably belonged to Yennifer. It was as if the two different personalities had overlapped, and together they had dented the floor with a frustrated punch. “Don’t get me wrong, Warlord, I am not berating myself for what Brood Lord did. Not that dumb. But the fact remains. Marco disobeyed a direct order, and that is on me. Soulmates around the tribe barely have time to raise their cubs properly, and who can blame you? Our wars are countless, and soulmates entrust the most precious to our care, denying themselves a chance to hold their own…”

She stopped, grabbed her sides, and breathed hard. A shadow passed over the Impatient One’s snout, then her eyes closed, opened, and she coldly met Janine’s eyes.

“The world is a dangerous place. One day it won’t be so, but for now it is a fact. Even here, in the Core Lands, the little ones sometimes go missing or are kidnapped, and very few of them are ever found. Their future, their safety, is our responsibility; if they suffer, it is because we have failed them. As such, they must be taught the basics of survival. End of discussion. With your permission, Warlord? I need to assist Alpha.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Janine nodded and closed the door behind her daughter, a silly, broad grin forming on her lips. Grandchildren! Both Bogdan and Yennifer!

Oh, how stupid, how insensitive she’d been when her little princess needed all the support she could muster, but that was over now. She’d find them and make sure they were okay. No scent... No problem; the harder the task, the better it sharpened the mind.

Other warlords must know. She picked up her axe and went to meet Martyshkina, since two of her own girls were serving in the far north, finding cozy and safe areas to establish villages during the future migration into the Ravaged Lands. Her legs squeezed into cargo pants, she put on a simple buttonless jacket with long sleeves and looked in the mirror, planning to visit Marco one more time before Houstad.

A time to fight and kill was upon them. She intended to ensure the survival of her allies and victory.

They had a lot to live for.

****

A dim circle of light trapped her, and darkness reigned outside its yellow rim. Confused and curious, she tried to remember who she was and glanced at a limb. A hand. No. A paw. A flood of memories poured in at that realization, bursting the dam inside her brain and forcing Kalaisa to gasp for air and cling to the spot of her wound.

Nothing. Smooth skin and fur. Even her scars, the proud medals of her existence, vanished.

Fury. It shuddered her; the urge to maim and kill clenched her fists, her lips curled, and she howled as she heard the scraping of metal, and brass gates grew from the darkness, piercing its veil as it was a water surface. They stood featureless, covered in scratches and notches. Twin braziers illuminated these ugly slabs, and even with her enhanced eyesight, the wolf hag couldn’t make out anything deeper in the dark.

A loud step came from behind the gates, and Kalaisa tensed, prepared to defend herself. The first step was cautious, the toes of the foot tasting the darkness, and then a cacophony of stomping filled everything, accompanied by a rabid giggling as something truly immense danced on the outside, bringing unholy visions.

Kalaisa saw a field covered in bodies, their limbs twisted, skin peeled away to expose nerves to the wind, and their mouths sucking air in agony, living despite their ribs pried back from the chest to set wicked crests onto the poor souls’ backs. She quailed, repulsed by the disgusting sight, and tried to retreat when paws, so much larger than her own and devoid of fur, rose up of their own accord and closed in on Warlord Ashbringer’s neck.

Ashbringer ended up being cast down, and the creature mounted her.

Kalaisa fantasized about a rematch. She dreamed of a time when she would beat Ashbringer in a single move, returning the humiliation. But the wishes that flooded her mind were something else, something she had never desired. Kalaisa no longer cared about winning or losing; these concepts had lost their meaning to her. Even her anger was gone, no longer meaningful. She laughed, enjoying every act of inflicting pain and living in the moment. She wanted to kill Ashbringer or kiss her or invert her. Endless possibilities vied for the right to be realized.

The warlord retaliated, spearing Kalaisa through with a single stab, and that made her laugh from joy. The mortal wound in her chest closed, trapping Ashbringer’s arm inside the regrown breastbone, and the clawed paw grabbed the woman by the jaws, opening them wider and wider until she heard a wonderful snap. Bliss, unrivaled by anything, set her brain on fire, and Kalaisa’s fingers found eyes, her own and the gurgling warlord’s, and tore them out.

More obscenities came. A dream of Marco’s restored body, a feat done by her genius. She had given the boy a minute to lament his dead family and swallowed him whole, hearing the boy dissolve in her stomach. A throne of throbbing organs, connected by veins and secured by bones taken from all around her, awaited her. A seat fit for a queen, fashioned by her paws. Through these horrors, Kalaisa heard it.

A knock. The creature on the other side tapped softly on the gate, pleading to be let out, promising the existence of a never-ending excess of fun.

“No!” Kalaisa roared, pressing her own claws to her heart. “I refuse! I will never, ever hurt my family or my pack again! Back! Away from my head, demon!”

It giggled and then laughed, its voice echoing from the very darkness, without malice or anger, and their consciences briefly joined. How could the locked creature hate Kalaisa? The outcome was irrelevant; it adored every decision the stupid girl made and loved her for it.

But being imprisoned here is no fun. It spoke directly into her mind, communicating with words now instead of feelings or visions. Or not. We’ll be one in time. Or not. Who cares? Get the fuck out of here and do whatever, little me. Sleep is for the weak. In time I'll be you and you'll be me and we'll be one and I'll be all and you'll be naught...

Kalaisa’s snarl made the gate disappear, crack before her eyes. They merged with the darkness, slipping to her left and right, unraveling and exposing her to a void filled by a softer, white light in the distance. She longed for it and lunged forward…

Right into a stinging pain that shook her head back onto the pillow. Blinking away accidental tears, the wolf hag touched her nose, sensing the broken cartilage. She lifted her eyes to see Anissa standing beside her, eyebrows raised and a fist prepared for another strike, standing near her.

“What was that for, douchebag?” Kalaisa groaned, her poor nose throbbing with heat.

She found herself in the brightly lit room of the mobile fortress. The lighting itself was adjusted to be bright enough but not irritating to her eyes, and there were doctors treating patients nearby. A soiled and wet blanket covered Kalaisa’s legs, and her chest was studded with sensors that transmitted her condition to the nearby terminal.

“You shouted and your jaws snapped, so I thought you were having a go at me,” Anissa mumbled, rubbing the back of her head. An Ice Fang nurse shoved her aside, checking the broken nose. “You okay?”

“Feel like crap,” Kalaisa complained. She closed her eyes in pleasure as the Ice Fang set her nose back with a crack and inhaled through blood. “Hey, it works again! Thanks, Miss! Also…” The Ice Fang caught her paws, not letting her touch the nose or the wound as the wolf hag looked down. “I don’t think my blood is clotting.”

“It isn’t, but it will,” the nurse promised. “Your immune system is recovering. Take it easy.”

“I am hungry. And I think I pissed and shit myself.”

“We’ll clean you in a minute, don’t worry,” the Ice Fang said. “Don’t be hasty, just a few check-ups…”

“I’ll help!” Anissa volunteered. “Kind of feel bad about the punch. My mistake.”

“Mistake?!” The nurse exploded. “I’m calling the guards!”

“Hey, I was helping around; cut me some slack!”

“Yep. It happens. Forgiven,” Kalaisa’s vision blurred, and she tried to focus. “Argh! Like a cub! Annoying! Anyway, why are you here? I thought you despised me. Wait, how is Marco?!” She would’ve stood up if the nurse hadn’t restrained her.

Lost to an Ice Fang. And Anissa saw it. Fantastic.

“You assume too much,” Anissa said with a smile. “My brother will be fine. I check on him from time to time, but I shooed your brother away so he would get a normal sleep.”

“Wow,” Kalaisa said gladly. “Just… Wow. You know, I think they shielded me from something. Don’t remember what… Say, what’s the best way to become a good person?”

“Don’t be a bitch.” Anissa replied.

“I’m trying!” Kalaisa grinned and twitched as the medic started to change the bandage. “Also, you owe me a match, so don’t you dare die on me, Ani, got it?”

“I’ll survive you if you keep acting like an idiot,” Anissa said. “I’ll go grab us some food. Ever tried coffee? Want me to tell your family you are awake?”

“Nah, let them rest… Wait, I thought you were going to help me clean up?”

“Do you want food or not?”