Greg turned back into his wolf-shape when the rain started up again. Sleeping on the floor was just more annoying as a human. There weren’t enough beds left in the camp that still had a roof above them, even with so many workers laying injured in the big hall. He curled up between Andrew’s and Nathan’s cots, in a part of the coaching inn that was still structurally sound. Both had offered him to trade, and he had declined. One more night wouldn’t kill him.

And he was out of the weather, so really, what was he complaining about?

He even had a rug to rest on. Most of the other werewolves had decided to sleep outside, some even outside the camp.

In the middle of the night, a soldier knocked on the door, waking them all up. Apparently, the engineers had laboured without rest to get the telegraph reconnected. Andrew grumbled but got up and Greg padded after him. They got there just as a flurry of messages came in. The other camps, the company, Eoforwic, Mannin, and David all wanted to know what had happened and if the danger was past.

Greg didn’t envy the very young ensign – hardly more than a boy – who was standing in for the camp’s injured lieutenant.

As soon as the young man confirmed that the Rot had been defeated and the camp was secured by a dozen elders, Mannin and Eoforwic promised to send aid, and then a little while later, the company promised to send workers, tools and materials to rebuild the camp as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t even lunchtime yet when the soldier up on the single surviving watchtower blew his horn. The first reinforcements from Mannin had nearly reached the bridge. Half an hour later, a dozen healers and doctors and nearly thirty nuns and servants with their burdens descended on the hall where the injured lay. Greg hadn’t gone near the place again, but through the holes in the wall, he saw Audenne follow Pierre around. The two elderly men were talking animatedly while Pierre’s presence ensured that even the greatest magic the healers might use wouldn’t lead to any unfortunate incidents. Oli was somewhere in there, too, with Anthony to keep him company.

The rest of the pack was patrolling outside of the camp.

David had asked for a longer report than the short message Andrew had already sent in the night. So Lane, Andrew, and Nathan were brooding over how to best put everything that had happened in writing, to be sent with the first mail coach braving the journey. Greg lazily rested his head on his arms, offering his improvements on their text, until Nathan pointed out: “You know, smartarse, I bet David will want one from you as well.”

Greg glanced at him without raising his head. “Got a pen?” he asked.

DeLande offered him one. She had paper to spare, too. Apparently, she hadn’t been surprised by David’s request. Greg yawned again but reached for the pen and moved the paper around until he found a place on the rough table where he could actually write.

He was done before the other three and went back to dozing with his head on his arms.

He probably should have offered his help to the two dozen navvies who did their best with the wood they had at hand to repair the barracks, but he couldn’t muster the energy. His foot was sore, and in addition to his own pain, he was weighted down by Pierre’s and Morgulon’s exhaustion. He hadn’t realized yesterday in the midst of all the excitement just how much it had taken out of them. He could feel a faint echo of Pierre’s aching joints every time he moved himself.

“Being old sucks,” Greg grumbled the next time he felt a sudden pain that didn’t originate in his own back.

“Like you would know,” Andrew said archly.

“I get to enjoy it with Pierre.”

“Generous of him to share that,” Nathan noted.

“Don’t think he can help it. I can feel some of Morgulon’s exhaustion, too. It’s not as – pronounced. I think it’s because I didn’t run around the Argentum Formation with her for the past four months.”

“Is she okay?” Lane asked immediately. “I had expected that she would be on her way back by now.”

“She’s resting,” Greg reported. “You know her, she never just offers anything concrete. But yeah, she’ll go back to the – to our cubs soon.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

What a weird thing to say.

He should go with her. He wanted to go, too. But as soon as he even tried thinking about leaving Pierre and the pack behind, he felt Pierre’s command to stay close intensify. It was almost funny: the elder was terrified at the prospect of Greg abandoning them amidst all these humans.

Maybe he should appeal to Morgulon to take him with her?

“What’s our plan, anyway?” Nathan asked. “I mean, we were supposed to arrive in Deva yesterday.”

“I suppose you’ll want to return to Brines with Morgulon?” Andrew asked, looking at Lane. When she nodded, he went on: “I think it’s best if we stay here while the pack does. Unless you want to get going too, Nathan?”

“I’m good,” Nathan said, grimacing. “I’m not too eager to get back into the saddle right now, to tell you the truth. Or even on a train.”

Greg closed his eyes. The weather had finally changed, and the sunshine was warming his back. Nathan hobbled around the table, leaning heavily onto his spear, and sat down next to Greg, but with his back towards the table, resting against it so the light fell into his face. He only angled his hat so it covered his eyes. Greg first thought he had fallen asleep, until he noticed the way Nathan clenched his jaws and clutched the knee of his bad leg with his hand.

They all watched on in silence as Mr. Kohen marched the two remaining golems out of the camp, followed by Rhuad. Greg saw them walk towards the river, where they vanished in the valley. Not much later, Rhuad and Mr. Kohen returned alone.

After lunch, Nathan grabbed his spear and hobbled over to the hall, to talk to the doctors there. Afterwards, he retreated to the room he and Andrew shared at the inn.

“Is Nathan all right?” Greg asked when he didn’t come back.

“I reckon his foot hurts again,” Andrew said and explained the new problems Nathan was facing.

A few hours later, three more figures crossed the bridge, carrying big boxes between them. Journalists. They set up a camera close to the destroyed barracks and started taking pictures of the ruins and the Rot-husks that hadn’t been cleared up yet. The navvies eyed them with distrust, but they didn’t really bother people, so Eyal and Digger left them to it.

When the shadows grew long and the temperature dropped abruptly, navvies, soldiers, engineers, and werewolves came together in the centre of the camp. Pierre got a big bonfire going, burning the lifeless husks of the Rot-brutes. The proprietor of the coaching inn had rolled out a whole barrel of beer, and werewolves and humans alike could come for refills without having to worry about money. It wasn’t exactly a celebration – too many men were still fighting for their lives. But the crew was breathing easier and the werewolves were readily coming back into the camp and even mingling a little. Pierre was still talking to Audenne, and Laurent had joined their table. Digger had approached Rémy and managed to strike up a conversation.

“Mind if I sit down?” Eyal asked.

“Sure. Anything we can help you guys with?” Andrew asked.

“Well – I hope you can,” Eyal said slowly, sitting down. He rubbed his large hands together thoughtfully. He looked at Greg first, but then turned to Andrew: “Your brother, Lord David, he’s got the duke’s ear, doesn’t he?”

“George Louis will listen to him, usually. Not necessarily heed his advice.”

“Would he speak to the duke for us? For our crew, I mean.”

“I’m sure he will,” Greg said, straightening up. “Why? Is there a problem?”

“Not a problem exactly.” Eyal looked around the camp. “It’s about the reward. You know, the land grant?”

“What about it?”

“Well, we were supposed to get land up north of Mannin, but we were wondering – if your brother would be willing to speak for us – perhaps the duke would grant us this camp – or parts of it – and some of the surrounding lands.”

“You want this place?” Greg echoed. He glanced around at all the destroyed buildings. “Why?”

“There’s already a jetty in place from where we receive materials for the building site,” Eyal pointed out. “There’ll be a railway station here, and a branch off towards Slopes is just a matter of time. Once the river is cleansed, we can get fish from there. Good soil, too. We can be self-sufficient here, while still having access to Mannin and Eoforwic within an hour.”

“I see your point,” Andrew said. “I’ll contact David. I can’t promise anything, of course.”

“No, we know that. Thank you.”

“Digger and his men aren’t supposed to know?” Greg noted.

“They were promised gold,” Eyal said, a little uncomfortable. “Plenty of gold, but still. No point in creating strive when we’re nearly done, right? On the other hand, we wanted to get this request out before the line is finished and we get plots somewhere else.”

“The line will be finished soon, then?” Greg asked.

Eyal nodded. “Hopefully. The bit between here and Mannin would be done already if we had another elder to protect those crews, too. With the new pack here, they’ll likely make a push to get it done. The Loir bridge should be finished within the next few days, too. That leaves this bridge, and two smaller bridges between here and First Camp. I think work stopped while the Rot-queens were about. How fast they can be finished, I do not know.”

He looked around again. “We’ll stick it out to the end, I think we’ve proven that much to His Grace, don’t you?”

Greg nodded, and so did Andrew, though more slowly.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I’m worried that it won’t be enough,” Andrew said. “George Louis – has abandoned allies before when he felt it was more convenient.”

But then he shook his head. “No, you guys will get your reward. He’s promising too much to too many powerful people, if there was even the slightest doubt he won’t keep his word... He won’t risk that. However, he may see this as you asking for more than initially agreed, and I have no idea if he’d be willing to negotiate. I’ll ask David, though.”

“We’ll need it in writing. Which lands will be ours, to pass on to our children, and that we’ll be free to worship our God here as we see fit.”

“Of course,” Andrew agreed.