I take a deep breath. This is going to hurt. I don’t pull off the doublet, wishing to keep my weaknesses hidden; instead I allow my wolf to rip the stitching.

Fur tingles across every inch of my skin as bones change to reform into the shape of a large black wolf. Shifting pulls at my skin and muscles in ways that are typically vaguely uncomfortable, but this time hurts. The pain drives me to my stomach. I keep my jaws clinched against the whimpers as I settle into my wolf, panting as the break and stitching of my bones in new places pulls anew at the stitches in my leg. Warmth rushes down my leg, and I know Morgana is going to kill me for pulling the stitches. Again.

A nudge from a black panther has me quickly on my feet; which just causes my head to spin. I shake myself to find varying degrees of black and grey and striped large cats all around, gathering packs of foodstuffs. They slip the straps over one shoulder, and a Were in human form helps them get the strap over the other leg so that it settles on the back. Huh. Ingenious.

Shefa Bridge squats down beside me. “Be careful. Do not overdo it.” I nod in acknowledgment, even as she slides my pack over one front foreleg, then the other.

I shake to settle it between my shoulder blades. Honestly, it’s much more comfortable than I imagined. I can hardly tell it’s there. I lick her hand in thanks, and her purple eyes glint in the sunlight.

“Remember those wounds.” She pats me on the head with a Look, her bird peeking out to chirp at me, then she's gone.

I shake my head, pinning back my ears. That woman is crazy.

A chuff draws my eyes. All the cats look up to the biggest brown cat I have ever seen, standing on a snow covered rock. The Imperium stands with deep brown fur the color of an oak tree. His panther is both lithe and powerful, but built like a brick house. I have honestly seen bears smaller than him. He sits with a majestic air, one that takes no words and fills the rest of us with a want to be better ourselves. This is a true leader, someone who inspires just by being present.

Flash stands at his side, a smaller midnight black version of his father. He’s built like his father, with rippling muscles and bulging sinew.

A mostly black with some white leopard is beside him, reminding me of the silky hair of the young Bridget. She’s half of Flash’s size, built more for speed than power. With those flashing red-rimmed eyes glinting dangerously in the sun—I wouldn’t mess with her. Another chuff and the panthers set off into a lope. I snort, wishing I could understand these crazy cats.

I stalk a few paces behind the slowest panther. My limbs are stiff with cold and I won’t mention the pull of the cuts along my ribs. I allow the ache to drive me forward. After miles of loping, the panthers have fallen back and I am now in the middle of the pack. A few more strides, and I pull up even with the Imperium. His son and Bridget fall a few steps behind. I wish I could tell him he didn’t need to wait for me.

I, for once, entirely agree. We are moving much too slow for the cats to wait on us. They shouldn't.

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“Of course we should, son. Morgana told me to." The way he says that, I suspect she more commanded him. "You set the pace.”

I stumble at the invasion of a voice in my head. A chuff of laughter sounds from beside me. I focus on getting my feet beneath me.

“You can—?” I ask as my brain tries to catch up to this new development.

“Yes, we can mindspeak. Not all, but some have the gift. Most Imperials and their lineage have the gift, allowing them to speak and direct those they serve,” he says, amusement coloring his voice.

It's interesting that he replied to The Cynic as if he could hear Cynic... it's possible he heard Cynic as me.

I duck my head and force my legs faster. If I am to set the pace, it will be a pace worthy of the folks waiting for rescue. I focus only on the ground before me and the path to the mountain. I give myself to the wolf and his mile eating lope.

The forest stretches out in front of me, beckoning me onward. I smell the hint of a rabbit quaking in his burrow; the musk of the deer as he darts from our path; the sweet scent of winter wildflowers blowing in the breeze, the red and gold flowers peeking from beneath frozen boughs. Aches of the boy fade as the wolf takes control for a run we haven't been free to do in many, many years.

My heart leaps in joy as my paws fly over the frosty earth, kicking up clumps of snow. We fly over swiftly moving streams, duck under fallen trees as sunlight filters through the canopy and makes the world almost blinding as it strikes the silvery snow blanketing the earth in pristine white. The higher we go, the more trees resemble my childhood home. The monoliths are many stories high and create canopies on top of canopies above. Small evergreen leaves are topped with a layer of snow, some icicles reflecting the sun and others dripping in the sunlight as we follow deer trails and small animal paths.

A pack at my back and the forest stretching in endless opportunity before us. This is what I was made for.

“Easy now.” I stumble as the Imperium once again invades my mind. “I told you to set the pace, but us old folks can’t take an all-out run for the miles ahead. You should be slower because of those aches of yours. Honestly, I even looked forward to a nice, easy pace. But no, you decide to set the pace of a deer fleeing a mountain lion.” His voice is humorous, even as I get the vibe he’s slowing us for my sake.

“You don’t have time to wait for a weak wolf, Old Man,” I respond, trying to keep the pace of before even as the trance I was in has broken.

He chuffs again, and I get the feeling he’s laughing at me. He abruptly sobers. “We’re going to need you. With as much strength in reserve as possible.”

I huff. “What is one injured wolf to do in the midst of fifty powerful Were?”

“You will most likely do the bravest and most imprudent action no sane creature would think of,” he says with no small amount of laughter in his voice.

I let my tongue hang from my mouth in a wolf smile, my tail flicking in happiness. I almost trip on a dead limb. It would be disastrous to fall on my face, especially after his comment. I pay more attention to the ground beneath my feet and pick up the pace marginally.

Before long, we start up steeper inclines, and my breath comes in shorter gasps. I force my lungs to expand in greater reaches of air.

We stop at a creek for a quick drink. A Were goes behind a copse of trees to change. He comes out carrying a good variety of meat.

We all dig in, but I don’t allow myself to gorge, knowing that we still have many more miles to go.

As the inclines get steeper, the pull on my leg increases. The Imperial calls for more breaks. I’m sad to say they are more for me than anything else. We’ve already passed the place Bridget came from, a large wall built with the white wood of the mountain trees to block a pass from the East that would allow an army direct access to the Were village. The place was deserted, the scent of copper blood and flame lingering between splintered wood where the dragon had broken through the gate.

I trip again as we make our way ever further into blistering cold, and the Imperial is about to call for a break when I catch a scent.