“Feeling better?” Janine asked as Daniel led the reporters to the main road.

“Yes, Mom.” Marco answered, proudly throwing glances at his shoulder. “I’ll never clean myself again.”

“Just try it, and I’ll kick your ass.” They stood side by side for a while, enjoying the night’s air and the surrounding calmness. When they went back to the crawler, Janine seated her son on her shoulders. “Marco, you are not weak or useless. You are simply weaker than me and can’t do everything on your own. And that is okay. I, too, don’t know half of what Ignacy knows. Nor can I crack vulgar jokes like Bogdan can, and frankly, I don’t regret it. There are tons of Normies who are weaker than you. Do you believe they should feel bad about us protecting them? Do you consider them worthless?”

“No,” Marco replied quietly, hugging her neck.

“You are not a loser. A loser is someone who never tries to do anything out of fear of failure. You are trying your best. Just because you can’t become as strong as Anissa or me does not devalue you as a person. I trusted Colt with my back, even though he was weaker than me. And he never failed, always protecting those close to him with a well-placed shot.” Janine blinked away the memories. “You will grow stronger in time. But strength alone won’t bring you calm. Stop fixating on what you can’t do. Socialize, party, find a mate, stand by your comrades, learn, hone your skills, and live happily. Then you will truly bury your fears. And… The offer still stands if you want to… you know, live a normal life.”

“No,” Marco replied quietly. “I want to serve and protect the people.”

“The police in the Core Lands serve and protect. Or so I heard,” Janine remarked. “And the regulars are full of brave women and men. They sacrificed their lives to protect Just Peachy and its people. Do you think less of them?

“No. But they are not like us. They wait for the bad guys to come while we go into the wild lands, overthrow the oppressors, and hunt down the bastards who have harmed our people. We prevent future tragedies, and this is who I want to be,” the boy whispered.

“Then I shall speak no more of it, Marco.” Janine dropped the subject. “You are a male of the tribe.”

A droplet of water hit her temple, and she looked up, facing the pouring water from the clouds above. Janine opened her jaws wide, ignoring being viewed as silly, and stuck out her tongue, tasting the pleasantly clean water, free of radiation and toxins.

“What’s this, Mom?” Marco asked, standing on her shoulders. “Why is the sky crying? Is one of the terraforming facilities nearby damaged or something?”

“I believe it’s called rain, Marco.” Janine smiled, raising her paw.

It boggled the mind and defied imagination. Once, nothing but sand, rocks, ruins, and corpses covered this place. Cruel sandstorms reigned supreme, fearlessly fighting to topple emptied cities and reduce everything to dust and ash. Yet life returned—water from the skies; animals, plants and insects populated the once-desolate regions; and humans too were here! Their sacrifices were not in vain. Her sons and daughters… They gave their lives for the right cause; Janine was sure of it.

“Marco.”

“Yes?”

“Ignore the punishment. Use both eyes. Watch and remember.”

The rain was cold, and the mother raced in full haste to the crawler, carrying Marco atop her shoulders and joining her laughter to his as they sought to reach the cover. Janine briefly begged the Spirits to leave some deserts in the world to come. Normies might like it, but Wolfkin preferred the heat.

****

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cordelia asked him.

Marco gave her a sideways glance, and she tapped his jacket. The two cubs sat beneath a cannon’s barrel, shielding themselves from the rain. The rain drummed over the steel, but puddles and streaks of water flowed down from the crawler’s edge without soaking them.

Cordelia wore a lightweight, not fully zipped underarmor that left her paws and feet exposed to the night air. The silver and gold amulet of her house was visible through the opening in the chest of her suit. After she helped him take off his “crutch,” he was forced to take a shower. Cordi also wanted to force him to take a bath, but Marco never trusted a body of liquid that could completely submerge him. He dressed himself in double jackets, two sets of thick pants, heavy boots, and gloves, and pulled a hoodie over his head. Open pizza boxes purchased from the cooks separated them, and the two dangled their legs over the edge, unbothered by a lack of guardrails, enjoying the wonders of the Core Lands.

“Course I am!” Marco tossed a knife in the air and caught it, sending the weapon into a spin. He moved the still spinning blade between his palms, increasing the speed until he could see only a blur, then suddenly hid it in the sleeve of his jacket and raised his arms.

Yenni gave him his first knife: a hooked blade fashioned from a dead insectoid warrior’s leg. His big sister taught him to respect and not be afraid of the impeccably sharp edge, and later Ignacy, Anissa, and Bogdan gifted him a full set of brand-new daggers for his birthday.

Weapons were cool. Short-range cold weapons, long-range rifles and pistols, explosives, wires, gases... They helped negate the handicap he was born with, and unlike his useless legs, they moved exactly as he wanted them to and never failed him.

“Left!” Cordelia smiled smugly, and Marco sighed, sheathing the knife. It was impossible to fool her.

“See? Fine! Why do you ask?” Marco swallowed a slice of pizza.

“Try chewing first, dummy!” Cordelia laughed.

“No time!”

“Why?”

“Cuz I want to eat a larger share!” He wasn’t lying. The crust of the pizza baked in the Core Lands was soft, smooth, and the spices and sauce made his head spin with pleasure, as did the meat and olives! He had never tasted anything like it!

“You’re weird,” she accused him. “Layers of layers of clothing… Are you genuinely not sweating in there? If this is some manly act of defiance, then I suggest dropping it at once. I am impressed.”

“Nope, no act. Are you not freezing your ass out here?” Marco asked, dumbfounded, how Cordelia could ignore the chilly wind and such a low temperature.

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He lied a little. The cold was annoying and unusual, but he had pulled on such large pants to hide his swollen, bandaged knees, ashamed of being afraid that his friend would pity him or, worse, find him weak.

“The weather is awesome!” Cordelia stretched herself and untied a ribbon to loosen her gorgeous white hair, accentuated by occasional darkly dyed strands. “I thought I was going to roast alive in this hell in the north. There wasn’t a night in the field when I didn’t wake up drenched in sweat.”

“Ah, so that is why you were so good at wrestling out of a hold, Icicle,” Marco teased.

“I haven’t been sweating all day, Dusty!” she argued.

“Sure, sure.” He grinned. “It is cool if you like bitter cold. I am glad that you enjoy being here.”

“Thanks, and it’s not bitter. You’ll get used to it, softie!” She tugged at his ear, and he returned the favor. The two stopped fighting, grabbing the dangerously shaking pizzas before they could fly down. “You’ve grown. A little. How was it?” Cordelia’s crimson eyes flashed. “Taking a life? Was it scary?”

“Not sure.” Marco scratched furiously at his temple, trying to find words. “It should be scary. I was scared when I saw those bugs. I forgot half of everything I was taught about combat or what I learned from our spars, but then… It clicked. All I thought about was not my safety, not my fear, but concern for people who couldn’t protect themselves.” He looked down at his paws, moving his fingers, and wondered where the knowledge of how to strike had come from. “It was as if I had become a machine, going through the motions.”

“Experience! Sometimes I block a blow from an incoming flurry of blows before I can even see it. I just somehow know it’s coming.” Cordelia snapped her fingers. “Thank the Planet you’re safe.”

“Can I tell you something super weird?” Marco asked, and Cordelia nodded. “Promise not to laugh!” The girl moved an imaginary key to her lips, locked the invisible lock, and tossed it away. “I did good tonight. I know it, and Ignacy and Yenny confirmed it. But I still think Mom thinks I should go into exile.”

Cordelia’s fingers formed a question mark, and Marco nodded, confirming that she could speak. The girl made a show of prying her jaws free from the invisible chains, drawing a chuckle from Marco. They bumped into each other by chance, and their friendship grew out of a heated argument about who should apologize to whom. Cordi was from the Sunblade family, the most influential household in the Order, and she was a direct descendant of First’s grandchildren. However, Cordi’s sclera lacked palest gold, and she explained that her mother had mixed her Wintersong heritage into the Sunblade line, resulting in a less pure bloodline than other scions. She was the one who pulled him by the ear to introduce him to the initiates, after learning that he had no friends his age. When they sparred, she ate his punches with a fortitude worthy of a Wolfkin, not a lady.

“You totally should get exiled,” Cordelia said, tossing aside the imaginary restraints. “I can ask Grandmaster First. I’m sure he’d welcome you.”

“Will your household really accept a Wolfkin?” Marco asked.

“Sure!” Cordelia rolled her eyes at the doubt in his eyes, jumped to her feet, and walked around the edge. Suddenly, her legs intertwined, and the girl stumbled.

Marco forgot about the pain in his knees or the tasty pizza in his paw. He leapt to his feet faster than ever, grabbed the girl’s wrist and arrested her fall before she could tumble down. A slice of pizza fell, splashing first against a lower deck, and then the wind and rain swept it onto the tread, turning the food to mush.

“Aren’t you afraid of falling to your death?” Marco snapped into the calm and mischievous crimson eyes.

“Why should I be afraid when my distant 'cousin' is ready to catch me?” A cheeky grin appeared on Cordi’s snout; her hair blowing in the wind, and then he saw she was holding on to the edge of the platform with her toes. Cordi accepted Marco’s help to get back on the deck and took him by the paw, raising it above her head: “See? Reliable! Of noble birth. Knows how to fight. A gentleman. What more could the grandmaster want?” She gracefully spun around, as if she and he were dancers at a ball, and the two sat down again. Cordelia began curling her fingers. “We have video games, soft beds, beauty parlors, TVs, smart teachers, treats, parties, comfortable clothes, and cool swords!” The girl elbowed him. “Join the decadent side, Marco; we have pizzas and equality.”

“Equality? Is that why you have to dress as a maid and serve refreshments to the sword saint?” Marco asked innocently.

“That’s to show respect and learn the manners of a high society! To be able to command, you must first know how to obey! You never know when you’ll need the knowledge of how to clean dishes, discern a high-quality wine from a cheap beverage, or how to keep your mouth shut during negotiations…”

“Excuses,” Marco stretched the word and dodged a smack.

“Marco, I swear, if you make fun of my attire, I’ll bite you!” Cordelia pouted.

“You look adorable and pretty in a long skirt. Dark and white suits you.” Marco blushed from embarrassment the moment the words left his mouth. In truth, he was jealous. A little. Cordi somehow managed to be splendid no matter the outfit, and he felt dirty and clumsy in his tattered jackets and patched pants. “I am not lying!” he added hastily. “You are cute even in that funny dress of yours!”

“It’s called a gown, silly.” Cordelia slipped a paw underneath his arm. “Oh, Marco. You have seen nothing truly glorious yet! But we’ll fix that! As soon as Warlord Janine gives her permission, I will take you on a tour of Houstad! Ice cream, parks, game clubs, fast food, fishing, fencing, boxing, comic shops… Swimming! You know how to swim, right? No? Don’t worry, you’ll learn right away!”

“Cordi, please no, I’ll drown!” Marco begged desperately.

“Silly, we, and the instructors, will be nearby. Nobody sends unprepared kids into danger alone.” Her crimson eyes briefly sparked, unnaturally bright, and then regained their usual color. “I’m going to introduce you and the initiates to all my friends! We’ll have so much fun!”

“Sure, but…” he shrugged, looking down at the caterpillar track. Cordi kept her questioning gaze locked on him, and the boy admitted it in a hushed voice. “I don’t have any tokens left. I gave my last ones to pay for my share of pizzas tonight. Had to move crates to earn them, and there’s no more work to be done to earn more.”

“Don’t you get pocket tokens from your mother?”

“We really don’t get anything like that. Sure, my family gives me treats, but the tribe expects the cubs to earn their own tokens to spend on entertainment.”

“Then why did you insist on splitting the pizza fee?”

“It wouldn’t be fair if you had to pay for them alone!”

Cordelia froze; her eyes widened and her pupils dilated. Then she narrowed her left eye, and a tick appeared in the corner. Marco imagined her brain as a cogwheel and saw it grinding to a halt, jerking, twitching, unable to turn. It frightened him and he was about to call someone when she sighed and said: “Braindead mule… Eh, it’s my fault; I should’ve thought of it when I heard your shamans were refusing payment. Still stupid, Cordi, still too stupid… Relax, will you?” She slapped him on the back. “I’ll ask Mother and Miss Camelia for a credit card. What’s the point of being noble if you don’t unwind occasionally?”

“I can’t let you or my mom be in debt …”

“Not listening! We are going to buy you clothes, a game console…”

“I have a beret!”

“And it is a very nice beret, Marco,” she agreed in a honeyed voice. “But a proper cap will let your lovely ears stand straight. Then a brand new terminal, boxing gloves, no offense, but your right hook hurts, and I prefer something softer to connect with my poor cheeks…”

“Cordi, I am serious; I’ll never be able to repay…”

“La-la-la, I’m spoiling Marco, and that’s final!” Cordelia laughed and pointed to the horizon. “Look! The town’s outskirts!”

Marco followed her finger and gasped. Ahead, on the slope of several hills, light shone. It came from buildings, cars on the streets, lampposts, and working stores. Multicolored lights, yellow, red, and green, blended into a faint halo that formed a rainbow over a town, banishing the dark despite a late hour. He could see figures walking unafraid, dressed in casual clothes, untroubled by the threat of the sun.

“It’s…” Unable to find the words, he rose to his toes and pressed his fingers to his chest, feeling so small, so insignificant, and yet so happy. This was the Dynast’s will, the reason why the Wolf Tribe fought, and the answer to every life lost. The restored glory of the Old World, a shadow of the dawn of the united world, where no family would ever go hungry again. “… so amazing,” he finished his thought, understanding that he couldn’t do justice to the scene. “Is Houstad the same?”

“The same?” Cordelia stood beside him, placing a paw on his shoulder. “Houstad is a metropolis, Marco. If this boondock is what counts as amazing to you, then prepare to be awestruck, my friend.”