The next day, there were a bunch of guards and werewolf hunters at the food drop-off, and no food. Instead, they were informed that they had better come along quietly. The crews were to move out tomorrow, and they were to stay the night in Eoforwic.

“So that’s why they waited until new moon,” Greg muttered darkly.

Nobody resisted when they were all loaded onto the same kind of cart that usually transported prisoners. It had solid steel bars all around and a barrier of wood between the inmates and the driver. Nobody looked happy when they were escorted into the cells in the basement of the company headquarters, but once again, no one resisted.

At least Greg got to share a cell with the rest of his new pack.

It had no furniture beyond a stinking bucket.

“I can tell this duke really wants our help,” Boris griped.

Greg couldn’t help but wonder if Eyal and Nathan didn’t know about this, or if they were still mad at him for leaving without a word. In any case, he got to stay his first night in a cell. It was an experience he could have done without.

Luckily, it really was just one night. When the crews set out the next day, each butty gang received one of the prison carts. Greg, Porter, and even Oli were led straight into one of them. Greg craned his neck, but he lost sight of Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur. Only Isaac and Thoko stared at him, so he sat down again and wrapped his arms around himself.

He felt really, really stupid.

“Sun’s bloody ashes,” he heard Porter swear. “I knew I never should have signed up for this madness.”

Greg silently agreed.

Eyal let them out as soon as they were out of the guard’s sight. Oli hopped off to hug him. Porter and Greg followed more slowly.

“What the hell happened?” Eyal asked.

“Oh, so they didn’t tell you?” Porter griped. “Rounded us all up yesterday, locked us up in the basement for no good reason, real pleasure. Prison cells, on new moon! Oh, they wouldn’t have been so cocky any other night, the bloody cowards...”

“And you?” Eyal asked, looking at Greg.

“I was given a choice, get locked up at the inn with you, or stay in the forest.”

“You just said we needed to vouch for you,” Isaac complained. “Why’d you lie about that?”

“There was nothing you could do, and I wanted to save myself the argument.”

“So a week in the forest alone was better than a week with us at the inn?” Isaac asked.

“It wasn’t a week,” Greg grumbled. “And I wasn’t alone. And it certainly wasn’t about you.”

Except that it had been, a little.

“What was it, then?” Thoko asked.

Greg shrugged. “I just didn’t want to have Nathan to have to follow me with a loaded crossbow everywhere I went.”

“He wouldn’t have,” Thoko said.

“He’d have had to, since Duke George Louis decided I needed a guard or at least a leash.” He looked around. “Where is Nathan, anyway?”

“I bet he’ll be here soon,” Thoko said. “And good luck explaining that stunt to him. He was really worried.”

“And pissed,” Isaac added.

“Right,” Greg muttered.

He stared up into the sky. Not much longer and he could turn again, and wouldn’t have to explain anything. And maybe he could find the other three?

Unfortunately, Nathan caught up with them first. He jumped out of the saddle right next to Greg, and they walked in silence for a while. Eventually, Nathan said: “That was the second time, little brother. If you run away on me again, I swear by sun and moon that I’ll shoot your arse.”

“You do realize what I am now, don’t you?” Greg asked. “I’ll be running away for the rest of my life, so I suggest you start picking darts.”

“You could have told me.”

“You’d have argued.”

“You really think I’m that stupid?” Nathan asked. “Hell, I get it, you didn’t want to get locked up, I couldn’t stand that myself. I can’t even stand Deva more than a few weeks at a time. You and Andrew, you were always the ones who were different, the civilized ones. One word and I’d have followed you out of the city, we could have made camp somewhere, no big deal. Instead, you left me behind, wondering how the fuck I explain that to Mum!”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I miss Deva,” Greg muttered.

He missed Mr. Higgins and his lessons, going out drinking with Gustave, shopping with his mother on the High Street. He would have liked to go to university one day, maybe become an engineer. He missed the theatres, the opera, the big celebrations at court.

“Yeah, I know,” Nathan sighed. “I don’t really get it, but I know. It should have been me – would have been me, if life made any sense. But fate’s got a shitty sense of humour. Just let me come along, okay? Next time you run away, I mean.”

“Okay,” Greg muttered. “How long are you going to stay out here with the crews?”

“Depends on how fast you can get this line build, I suppose.”

“What if the duke needs you to carry another message?”

Nathan shrugged. “I’m sure he’s got plenty of reliable messengers.”

“Yes, but I thought it was agreed-“

“It was agreed that he’d treat you like a human being,” Nathan interrupted angrily. “Like my brother, not like a criminal.”

“But I’m not,” Greg said quietly. “Human, I mean.”

Nathan spat out onto the ground. “One night out of twenty-nine? Not good enough for me.”

“You won’t be king, though.”

Nathan laughed harshly. “Neither will George Louis, if he continues on like this. There’s still Duke Desmarais.”

Greg buried his hands in his pockets. He wanted to believe his brother, that things could be better. That he wouldn’t have to get used to not being human, that humans might instead get used to him.

“Did you really hang around the forest the whole time?” Nathan changed the topic. “What did you even do?”

So Greg told him about Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur, which promptly led to the question: “Is she pretty?”

“She’s more than twice as old as I am,” Greg shrugged. “As a human, I mean.”

“Both of them?”

“Fleur’s younger,” Greg admitted. “Don’t know how old, though. I suppose she’s fairly pretty?”

“You’re going to have to introduce us sometimes,” Nathan said.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still inside their cage,” Greg sighed. “Don’t think they know their crew that well.”

“Good point,” Nathan said. “Let me see about that.”

He jumped back into the saddle and overtook the slow line of marching workers and their carts.

“Fairly pretty, huh?” Thoko said, taking Nathan’s place. “And how would I rate?”

“Very pretty,” Greg said, without thinking about it, then looked away quickly.

“Very good answer,” Isaac quipped.

Thoko laughed when Greg didn’t look at her again.

“Yes, very good answer,” she agreed, which made people all around them laugh.

“I got a question, too,” Porter said to Eyal, a couple of steps ahead of them. “We only get that one cart, do we?” He pointed at the prison cart. “Might get a bit cosy, come full moon.”

“We can test that tonight,” Eyal said. “If it doesn’t fit, we’ll send Nathan back, so headquarters can send more.”

First, though, they walked. Not very far, the truss only managed about a couple of miles every hour, but they kept going until after nightfall. A bunch of company clerks, comfortable on their horses, kept urging them on. The clerks were very unhappy that Nathan had made sure all the werewolves were out of their cages. Nathan just pointed towards the shrubs hiding the river, and asked: “Would you rather deal with that on your own?”

That killed all arguments against freeing the werewolves, though there was a lot of noise when the first narrow sickle of moonlight appeared and the Morgulon turned wolf again.

She vanished into the darkness underneath the trees, right towards the Savre.

“Somebody is eager to get to work,” Eyal grumbled.

By the next morning, when work was to start for all of them, the clerks had achieved at least one thing: Werewolves and navvies were united in their dislike of them. Especially groups like Eyal’s, who had done the job before, were agitated about the interference into their own routines. Eyal and his relatives were doubly annoyed, that they hadn’t been able to observe their traditions, which were tied to the first light of new moon.

“For no good reason, either,” Isaac groused. “It’s not like we made that much distance that late at night. And who are they, to tell us how to pitch our bloody tents?”

Greg nodded along and shouldered his axe. The weather was dry, and he had meant to work with the others, like on their first tour. But he hadn’t counted on the Savre and the surrounding swamps. They had barely started on the first tree when they felt the Rot move, a wave of sickness that shook them all. Greg had to hurry to get out of his clothes and into his other shape, and even then he ended up calling for help. The alternative would have been to spend an hour playing tag with the Rot-thing and to risk more broken bones.

It was Bernadette who came to his aid. For her, it was hardly a fight at all. It wasn’t that she was bigger, faster, or stronger than Greg. Quite the contrary. There was another kind of power at play here, something like magic. Or maybe it was magic. Greg’s education in the sciences was firm, but Mr. Higgins had always frowned on the arcane arts.

Now, Greg wished he knew a little bit more. Perhaps Thoko would know?

The Rot drove the question from his mind. He had known, in theory, that along the Savre even the hottest, sunniest summer offered no safety. Knowing and experiencing it were completely different things, though. It was a constant, unending battle and fifteen werewolves were just enough to keep the workers safe. Nathan, Smith, and Eyal, and the crew leader of another experienced gang, fittingly named Digger, were the ones who organized a roster, which allowed each werewolf a full eight hours of sleep each day, and it was them who planned the “full-moon-camp,” as there was no way that the werewolves could stay inside the cages for even one night and leave the camp defenceless.

The company clerks argued, of course, but they were simply ignored. Eyal and Digger were the de facto leaders of the whole operation, so the butty gangs spent a whole day preparing an extra-wide fire border around one big camp. Eyal and Smith had learned from their run to Sheaf, and instead of digging a ditch, they piled up a bank, on top of which they placed their grilles. Together with the grilles, the mound was high enough that Greg couldn’t jump it.

“If we do this smartly, we can later expand the mound and include it into the embankment for the tracks,” Smith said.

So the whole thing was properly measured and engineered. Greg slept through most of the process. Nathan shook him awake. When Greg sat up, there was an air of controlled panic inside the huge camp. Fire guards were already up and patrolling, and only a small opening was left.

“You need to get going,” Nathan said. “Sorry.”

Greg struggled to his feet, yawning.

“Leave your clothes somewhere close to the mound,” Nathan told him. “I’ll try and get them.“

Greg was apparently the last werewolf who got kicked out. The others were already outside.