Looking around, Bronte saw the aftermath of the pandemic of werewolves, a surreal landscape of a horrific apocalypse. At the corner stood a woman they had seen once before, Lángrén. She walked over to the single mother and child, offering her hand to help them stand. Lángrén stood before the young lady, a heavy burden weighing on her heart. She took a deep breath, her voice steady as she spoke the words she knew would cause pain.

“I’m sorry,” she began softly, “I need you to understand that what I’m about to do is not out of malice or cruelty, but a desperate need to save your lives. This is the only way.”

Bronte looked at Lángrén, confusion and fear etched across his face. “What do you mean? Save us from those… things?” The mama blinked in confusion as Lángrén tapped her cheek with her finger. The mother reached up and touched the cut on her cheek.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hesitated, trying to find the right words to express her regret. “You’re in danger,” she finally said, her voice choking with emotion. “There’s something you don’t know about the world, about your lives. I can’t bear to see you, or your kind, suffer.”

She paused, her hand calming as she reached out to gently touch the child. “You won’t feel the change for a while. When you do, becoming human again is the nasty part. But in time, it will grow easier. For you. For your child.”

Bronte’s eyes widened; disbelief written all over his face. “How... How is that possible? I feel fine. It only scraped me.”

I know,” Lángrén replied, her voice full of regret as confusion swelled in the mother’s eyes. The child stopped crying and locked eyes with Lángrén. Tears streamed down Bronte’s cheeks as she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what Lángrén was saying. This woman she’d seen in grocery stores and at the post office in their community.

“So, what are you saying? What do you need to do?” Bronte nervously asked.

With a heavy heart, Lángrén took a step back, her resolve firm, but her pain evident. “You’re welcome to stay. My husband and children will help you and your child. I have some…old friends that I have to meet.”

Bronte’s hands trembled, but she looked into Lángrén’s eyes, seeing the concern that swirled within them. “This will keep my daughter safe?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Yes,” Lángrén whispered, her heart breaking. “This is the only way to save you in this new world.” Bronte nodded, numb in thoughts and emotions.

“Okay,” she said. Her voice laced with resolution of her decision.

"Okay. Head south by the railroad. When you get to the corner gas station, turn east, opposite the sun. Go about a quarter mile. When you’re there, look for the fifth house on the right. Knock near the bottom of the stairs, and my husband will come out. He’s not one of us, but he knows what’s going on. I’ll be back to help you and your child transition.”

Bronte stood in a daze, and her jaw clenched as she watched Lángrén shape-shifted easily into an off-white furry werewolf. The beast’s eyes held a strange compulsion and swelled with compassion.

As the werewolf’s teeth sink into her shoulder flesh, the gut-wrenching pain mashed-up with the sound of tearing fabric as Lángrén’s powerful jaws clenched into her bones. Lángrén’s breath was hot, filling the air with an intense Aglaia odorata scent. The terror of the moment was amplified by her panicked breathing and the rapid thumping of her heart. The intensity of Lángrén was less a nightmare vision, but a feminine ferocity. Her elongated fangs dripped with saliva and Bronte’s blood. The sensation of the bite itself was searing and sharp, as its teeth punctured her skin. Her muscles and nerves tensed with agony. Adrenaline flooded her system, amplifying every sensation and heightening her senses. Uncertainty caused her to experience a strange mix of relief and terror. Bronte realized seconds later that the Lángrén had released her from the gripping bite. The pneumatic bite force exerted was light-years stronger than a saltwater crocodile during the dinosaur era. She was left shaken and traumatized, with the brutal memory seared into her thoughts. Bronte looked at the site from the bite and noted the bloody wound had already begun to heal. The nightmarish reality made no sense to her.

Lángrén shifted back into human form and laid her hand on Bronte’s elbow. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t watch you die. Now go!”

Bronte checked on her child. She was shocked to see that a bite nipped on her toddler’s cheek was swiftly healing, and the child had not cried in the least. When and how fast did this Lángrén creature before she did that? What will the future hold for her baby?

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“Go!” Lángrén urged Bronte.

The mother took off running with the child. The child stared back at Lángrén as she watched them leave. Lángrén spotted trillions of fur follicles rolling in as a swarm. Coating everything in its path. Bursting through glass, sliding through anything with a crack.

As the pair disappeared around the corner, Lángrén’s nostrils flared. A guttural growl rumbled deep in her chest, betraying the irritation bubbling beneath her calm facade. The air reeked of werewolf fur, a cloying sweetness masking the metallic tang of blood. It was a stench of homecoming, belonging, and yet, it twisted her stomach with an unwelcome tide of nostalgia.

Jason, ever the charmer, sauntered into view, his grin as sharp as his claws. Supatra followed, her gaze flickering between her two oldest friends, a silent plea for understanding etched on her face. Supatra stood alongside Jason. A quizzical expression on her face.

“When did you start showing a soft spot?” Jason’s voice was a teasing drawl, but his eyes held a glint of genuine curiosity. He tilted his head, studying Lángrén’s hardened expression, the defiance etched into her posture. Lángrén, clearly defensive, retorted, “None of your business.” Lángrén’s jaw clenched. “None of your business,” she spat, her voice laced with the bitterness of betrayal. Her gaze darted to the shadows, where the echoes of screams mingled with the mournful howl of the wind. These were her adopted people, once. Now, they were mere ghosts haunting the streets she once called home. A flicker of hurt dashed through her eyes. “Why are your dogs loose?” she countered, her tone laced with accusation. The question hung heavy in the air, a storm cloud pregnant with unspoken history.

Jason chuckled, a low, rumbling sound as he smirked, trying to lighten the mood, “Is that a way to greet an old friend?” His smile was a weapon, disarming and dangerous in equal measure.

Lángrén seemed unimpressed, “Friend?”

Supatra stepped forward, her voice a soothing balm amidst the rising tension. “If he’s not, what about me? It hasn’t been that long, right?” Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now clouded with a mix of regret and hope.

Despite the tension, the three stood together, a tableau of uneasy alliances. Flies buzzed over the spilled blood on the asphalt street, their incessant hum a constant reminder of the carnage that had unfolded. The air crackled with unspoken words, accusations hanging heavy between them.

“How did you find me?” “How did you find me?” Lángrén folded her arms across her chest, her voice laced with suspicion. “And importantly, why? I’m not sure how the superspy and the dung shadow did it after all this time.” This town, its people, were her sanctuary, her refuge from her past and from Antonio. Now, they were exposed, her fragile peace shattered.

“We wouldn’t have found you until your student legacy. They had to obey the Get,” Supatra explained, her voice a low murmur. Her gaze met Lángrén’s, a silent apology for past transgressions.

Supatra slowly moved toward Lángrén and touched her shoulder. Jason remained where he stood.

“I remember well what the two of you thought was right before.” Lángrén wiped a strand of hair off her face as if it was an annoying insect.

Supatra looked chagrined at Lángrén. “I deserve that,” she admitted.

Lángrén scoffed, a harsh sound that echoed through the deserted street. “Not you, sister. Him.” Her eyes narrowed at Jason, a flicker of anger sparking in their depths.

A mild amusement played across Lángrén’s face. Jason, unfazed by her hostility, shrugged nonchalantly. “Who me? Just because my hackles were up before, don’t make me the bad guy.” His grin widened, a predator relishing the challenge.

Lángrén didn’t seem impressed. “You’re worse than I remember.” Lángrén spat, her voice dripping with venom. Jason’s ruthless pragmatism had always been a source of friction between them.

“Because I do what needs to be done?” Jason retorted, his voice hardening. His eyes, usually playful, glinted with a dangerous edge.

“You enjoy it too much.” Lángrén crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes held a deadly glint.

Supatra stepped forward, her hands outstretched in a gesture of appeasement. “We cannot change what was done.” Her voice was a plea for reason, a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that began to widen between them.

“I don’t hold any hard feelings, other than what you did,” Jason offered, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

Lángrén’s eyes flashed with fury. “I had nothing to do with that. The moon I claimed, the other was not by my hand.” Her voice rang through the street, a defiant roar against the accusations leveled against her.

Supatra’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “What? I know you were the…”

“I was not the architect,” Lángrén snarled, cutting her off. Her gaze was unwavering, her voice a steady drumbeat of denial. “All this time, and the spy master still believes outdated information. The Wolf King made that decision to cull, not me.”

Supatra questioned her, “Why hide then?”

Lángrén stood defiant, refusing to back down. “I was never hiding. He let me live my life.”

Jason sniffed the air, a predator savoring the scent of secrets. “She’s in love,” he announced, his voice dripping with amusement, smelling something important. “And cubs, too.”

Supatra’s eyes widened in shock. “What? After all this time?” She reeled back with a friendly smile.

Jason confirmed his discovery, “I know. The Arctic frost wolf finally thawed.” He sauntered closer to Lángrén. He smirked, his confidence bordering on arrogance.

Lángrén demanded, “Leave them out of this,” protecting her cubs and husband from the escalating situation.

“What? After all this time?” Supatra was pleasantly supportive and surprised.

“How can you be such a stranger?” Jason said with a cocky attitude.

“It seems as if you think in such dark terms many times. I won’t allow my family to be entangled in your schemes.” Jason disgusted Lángrén with his words.

“That is my nature, as is yours to be wise.” Jason leaned against a wall.