Jolon snorts. "Have you learned nothing from all of my training? The danger is here already, and it's not going to go away if we lie back and let it take us. The preparedness of the shadow is the only way. We've got brutes like Haken pushing for our deaths in an all-out massacre, and even Bly and Ahote want to confront the military. But know this, Decaarr. The humans are monsters. They'll take everything from you and leave you to rot in the dark. So it's best to start there. In the dark. And watch them, waiting for a chance to take back what's yours, one piece at a time." He trails off, staring at the ground as though realizing he's said too much. "We should head home," he says finally.
The Memories Fade
A bony hand taps you on the shoulder, and you twist in place, bringing a claw to bear before you recognize the face of Payat, an older wolf who used to spend most of his time in Bly's dojo. His well-worn glasses and thin, lanky body make him easy to underestimate, but inside burns the soul of a fighter. You've seen Payat take down more than one wolf twice his weight with the graceful fluidity of a natural-born killer.
The wiry wolf jerks a thumb to the rooftop door. "Head on down. Meeting's almost over, and we all need to cast a vote."
"Vote?"
"Yeah," Payat says as he slinks up to replace you at the watch station. "Ahote's planning a protest. All peaceful-like. Haken wants to fight, but he's having a tough time getting the pack's blood heated up. Says we've been 'domesticated.'" Payat hawks and spits over the edge of the roof. "He's right, too. The animal's gone outa this lot. They'd rather be comfortable in slavery than die as free creatures. But whatta I know? I'm just a scrapper." He sniffs. "Get down there and give Haken an ear. He may not win out tonight, but between you and me, he's gonna be running this show soon enough."
Next
The ripe scent of too many wolves in too-tight quarters wafts up the stairwell leading from the roof to the meeting hall below along with the rise and fall of muted debate. Raised whispers clash like padded hammerblows as each wolf tries to be heard over the general din without shouting loudly enough to attract the attention of the pacification squads roaming outside.
Organizing is now seen as a criminal offense by the powers that be, and if this meeting is discovered, painful examples will be made to discourage potential repeat offenders.
You reach the bottom of the stairs, and your attention is immediately drawn to a long dinner table, atop which both Elder Ahote and Haken stand. They face the packed crowd of wolves around them as they implore the public and exchange jibes with each other. A soft murmur passes through the crowd as Haken jumps down to the floor, causing a group of smaller wolves to scatter or be crushed by his great weight.
"I stand here among our people, Ahote, not preaching from a platform, not looking down on the assembled wolves as though I know what's better for them. What do the humans care for peaceful protest? Have you forgotten what landed us in this glorified prison?" Haken spreads his arms wide in appeal as his eyes search the crowd for support. "Did the humans care for our protestations when they slaughtered our men, women, and children during the Purge? When they created the technology that tracked and corralled us in here like dogs? Even if we wanted to escape, they'd know the second we passed the wall! Slaves don't get to protest. They revolt!"
"How quickly you forget," barks Ahote in a gravelly voice disused to speaking publicly at length. "Where would we be without organization and protest?"
Haken stares murder at the old wolf.
"We live," Ahote says with a grand sweeping gesture taking in the entirety of the room, "because several groups of humans banded together with a singular purpose—protesting their government, their military, to put an end to the genocide of our species. We would do well to learn from their example, Haken."
The crowd explodes in clashing cries of cheers and boos, and you feel compelled to join the chorus.