H'nele barked, "When you strike, strike fast. And strike only on her orders. We run in on them and we run in fast. Again we do not know where we're at, or how we got here— or who the hell these people are.
"Consider locals pointing a gun or sword your way— or any other gesture of agitation to be hostile and a threat to your life, and fight back. Someone points a gun at you— you scratch them up. We've known a long while hunters take the first stab— that changes today. So don't hold back a punch when stared down." H'nele poked her talon at a canine shrouded away in the dark alleys. "She tells us when to do— nobody else can."
Her fur was painted charcoal. Quietly, she stalked Keshin with a determined look.
Ujare mumbled to her, "Ready to strike?" Begrudgingly, the wolf of black fleece nodded with expressive motion. "Good— we strike on your orders only— so when you're ready, we're ready— for Dmarani— for Veram— and for the wolf pup who sadly died at birth— God bless."
The wolf lurking in the shadows drew Keshin's attention to her pained, reddened eyes, the only thing visible in what seemed to be trashed backstreets and dark, empty roads. Then the aggrieved canine, drained of all notions to have empathy, roared a grueling, pained roar, akin to that of an angered lion, mourning over its lost brethren, fallen to the sharp bite of the enemy hyena, akin to a mighty dagger.
Then Narniff upon a mustang, like a great archangel soaring through the heavens, bucketed through the streets, hooves drawing trembles from the earth, akin to a mighty quake from God's righteous handiwork. He said, "I'm here with the coup to run Keshin off the empire."
"Justice spelled the end of the De Brosse lineage," Keshin bellowed. "Now Keshin spells the end of justice." He sprung off his mustang, produced his rifle, and darted behind a shamble of twigs, logs, and shrubbery.
Creeping towards the birch and mahogany bark and leaflets, Narniff quickly drew a blade of fine timber. "Have you read The Bible? Deuteronomy, chapter thirty-two, verse four? The most essential verse.
"It says, 'Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; steadfast love and faithfulness go before you.' The Thessalonians also say, 'He will pay back trouble to those who trouble you and give relief to you who are troubled, and to us as well. This will happen when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven in blazing fire with his powerful angels. He will punish those who do not know God and do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus.'"
"God loves all." Keshin wrapped himself in his own arms, akin to a sleepy caterpillar forming chrysalis to become a great butterfly, wings akin to archangels.
"You're loved. But unless you repent, your sins don't go unnoticed—" Narniff angled his blade against the shrubbery rubble. "—by me or by God."
Keshin pleaded, "I'm sorry. Let me repent." As his breathing deepened, Narniff darted around the bush and plunged his dagger into Keshin's heart. A beam of light illuminated splinters on his tattered outfit, fragments of a splintered blade.
"It's best you fellas mosy on home now." Narniff holstered his blade, and saddled on De Brosse's mustang. "There's no more business to handle for you canines. The job's done."
Ujare whined, "You could use a friend. Join our gang, Dmarani."
"Our gang needs new members." The wolf coated a hazy gray and charcoal snapped in agreement. "Plus, Ujare's right. You could use a friend or two."
"No, I'm fine." Often, Narniff insisted that he remained lone, especially when approached by street gangs and thugs. "But one thing before we head separate ways— you're a special wolf— you with the charred markings. What's your name?"
"Rena," said the wolf with the charred markings. "Rena of Dmarani."