Janine’s ears perked upon hearing the low, guttural howl spreading across the camp, akin to a shockwave. A broad grin spread across her lips. At st!

  The warlord stormed out of her tent, greeted by the orderly chaos of her pack assembling itself for war. Shamans walked among snarling Wolfkins, ting prayers. Meics from the Normies’ ranks smacked the overly eager women on the back, f them to stand still while they strapped power armor onto their bodies. Those who failed to ply with the men’s demands found their geors deactivated and themselves turned into statues as the Normies slowly finished outfitting the seething warriors to the jeers and ughter of their packmates. Her wolf hags howled in respoo Alpha’s call, rousing the males from inactivity and stopping every dominatiohroughout the siege camp, the same se repeated itself.

  War! The Wolf Tribe was called to war! Janine walked to the ter of her camp, ign the Wolfkins’ bare throats. She spread her arms wide, and three males—her own blood, the pride and joy of her litters—rushed to encase her ihick ptes of armor.

  Marco, her you son, was a three-year-old cub. She had taken him from the pits as her adjutant after a girl had nearly strangled him. A pang of pity stu the sight of his pale b, ribs pressed against his fur coat. He was the only cub in his litter to survive to this day. The rest were stillborn. A bad litter, a weak one, and it’s all Janine’s fault. Her soulmate had repeatedly asked her to rex a, but she soldiered on, marg from battle to battle, eager to prove her ret appoio the rank of warlord. This was the result. Never again.

  The gruesome wounds on Marco’s body had long since healed and thick, bck fur swallowed the scars. Janine khat his knees sometimes hurt; the boy was too close to being named a Crippled for her liking. She bent her legs slightly, a small gesture of mercy for her hardw cub.

  The other two looked like twins. Bck hides with mottled brown markings, lal snouts, and muscles dang beh their skins. Both bore their share of scars, but where Bogdan had grown into a well-adjusted male whose soulmate had already given life to two whole litters with a total of four surviving cubs, Ignacy worried Ja his age, he should have found a proper mate by now.

  Her sons lifted the heavy ptes of the power armor. Piece by piece, they brought them to her oversized body, eg the cables to the impnts’ sockets across her torso to establish the link. She exhaled slightly, feeling how Marade a misstep and ected one cable too slowly, resulting in a jolt of electricity surging up her knee. Janine smiled encingly at him, inviting the boy to keep going and learning. These armor ptes were too heavy for him yet, but she’ll never give him up to bee a Crippled. Her fault. Her responsibility.

  Ignacy spread the bundles of fiber muscles, not trusting them to fit in p their own. They tightened around her limbs, simir to a sed skin. He slipped under Janine’s arm, took a geor, and positio directly behind her spine. Where Ignacy moved in no hurry, Bogdan spped the pauldrons on Janine’s shoulders, trusting his mother to endure any disfort with ease.

  After the ptes came the sleeves, much heavier pieces of power armor that protected her limbs. Her sons worked together, lifting each sleeve and seg it i a familiar rumble of the geor, she stretched her arms and legs, testing them and feeling the artificial muscles move in tandem with her own, emp her to limits far beyond those of a mortal woman. She bowed her head and accepted a helmet, its crimson lenses fshing at her and, bringing a flood of information to her retinas. The life signs of her pack were projected in a wall of symbols, and her fangs gritted as she noticed a wounded one. Not her fault; the girl was a scout, and ambitions were pounding in their young heads. Wolf hags scked.

  She checked the ammunition t, receivis on the wolf hags’ packs’ readiness. At her snarl, four armored figures broke from their preparations and darted to her on all fours.

  “The force shields are online,” Ignacy whispered happily, notig how his mother’s lenses whirled, fog on the front line. “Warlord, the teis showed me how to properly calibrate them and adjust the energy flow. These honeys even absorb the bst of a bunker bomb…”

  “This wasn’t your duty.” She turo him in a burst of movement, pressing a der his lower jaw.

  The siege camp was a wild hodgepodge of discipline and chaos. The positions of the Wolf Tribe cked any field kits or medical tents; a thin yer of mines ensured prote against an attack from the fortress. The purpose of these mines was to slow and alert; the tribe adored a good brawl. Janine offered the help of her scouts to both the regurs and the Ice Fangs as a gesture of goodwill. Anything to keep the wild girls occupied. Alpha ter approved her initiative, and Janine’s nape ared of bites.

  Their cousins, the Ice Fang Order, took a different approach. Their camp was set up in an orderly fashion, ae soldiers guarded the perimeter. Fgs upon fgs fluttered on the harsh winds while the knights prepared in vain for positional warfare. As always, First offered to share food with his kin, and they accepted his offer. o miss out on perfectly delicious rations and drinks.

  The regurs of the Third dug ground around the army’s perimeter, creating trenches, pg pillboxes, and burying energy geors to shield the camp in case of a sudden shelling. Janine assigned some of the hotheads to help with this ask, but Ignacy sure as Abyss wasn’t part of that rabble.

  “The scout told me we were finished searg through the eastern nds.” Ignacy ed his o dodge the sharp tip that threateo cut his throat. “Teo-Queen has id her nds bare. There is nothio devour, and after the Blessing Mother’s hunt, there is no foe left to fight, either. So, with free time on my paws…”

  “You decided to meddle with teology instead of looking for a soulmate?” Janine sighed. The boy spoke the truth: Ravager had to use some of her forces to provide food and water for the locals after their leader tried to starve out the invaders by taking away everything edible. “Ignacy, the shamans have made their will clear.”

  “Soundly spoken, Warlord.” Bogdan bared his neck for speaking out of turn. “In times of need, every member of the tribe must seek a way to make themselves useful. Ravager’s own wisdom had spurred Ignato a, setting an inspiring example for us to follow.”

  For the insolence of speaking out of turn, Janine lovingly struck Bogdan against the cheek, more of a supportive pat than a bruising blow. In truth, she didn’t feel anacy for failing to produ offspring. The boy was good-looking ahy. Several warriors fawned all over him, showing their cws in an attempt to entice him to mate. Even if Ignacy would decide to remain single or, Spirits’ forbid, to choose a male, she’ll, of course, disapprove but will accept his decision.

  It was his persistent meddling in forbidden matters that worried the warlord. The memory of her firstborn’s fate—his desperate yelping when all his trust in meical devices had finally failed him—burned brightly in her eyes to this day. She ched her paw. She needed a shaman’s wisdom and guidao set the boy straight.

  Her sons stepped back, dropped to their knees, and she lightly bit their necks, scolding them for Marco’s failure and their audacity in speaking out of turn. The older brothers bowed and jumped to help their rades prepare for battle, and Marco stood, dusting off his jacket.

  “Sorry,” the little one whispered, toug the wound on his neck.

  Janine wao grab him, press Marco against her chest pte, and promise him that everything would be alright. To hug, care for, and protect him from everything and everyone. But this wasn’t meant to be. In the Wolf Tribe, the males were subservient to the females. If anyone saw her cuddling Marco, his life would bee the Abyss of teasing and ridicule.

  “Be better ime,” Janine said calmly, straightening up and scratg him behind the ear. “And don’t sweat over mistakes.”

  “Warlord,” Wolf Hag Anissa bared her neck, ing closer and carrying Janine’s axe and rifle on her paws.

  Her daughter had already prepared for battle, her shardgun strapped to her back. Anissa left the helmet open, showing ach over her right eye, the result of a scuffle between her and anirl is. A work of scars covered the womaire scalp, disappearih the get. Standing on one khe wolf hag handed Jahe ons.

  “You have failed.” Janine swung the Taleteller, an axe she had found in the a ruins, through the air, sending a wave of wind across her camp. The on had a single bde that remained unbroken and required no sharpening. What it bit, it cut . She nodded in thanks and accepted the high-powered ser rifle.

  “Yes, Mother,” Anissa scratched Marco’s behind the ear before reag into a pocket and pg a medical patch over the bite mark.

  Janine’s growl caused her daughter to bare her ne submission. Like her mother, Anissa’s sole remaining eye burned yellow, a sign er’s favor. Unfortunately, the girl wasn’t strong enough to one day usurp Janine’s position. The shamans examined Anissa and firmed that she was nearing her prime. Where Janine’s limbs resembled tree trunks, Anissa’s had a slender and leaner build. By the Wolf Tribe’s standards.

  Not having time for a proper punishment, Janine simply smacked her daughter across the forehead with two fingers, sending Anissa’s head bad leaving a bloody bruise. Tough. Easily tougher and strohan any other wolf hags in Janine’s pack. But also, reckless. She warned Anissa not to be cordial with her brothers in front of everyone. Not unless she could protect them at all times. Marco had enough problems as it was.

  Why ’t you be more like your sister? Janine wondered as she rammed the butt of her axe into the rocky ground, opening a crevice. Impatient One approached, the only one of her daughters so far to bee a shaman, even if her rank hadn’t yet allowed her to lead a vilge. Words of prayer covered every millimeter of her battle armor, scratched into the surface by the shaman’s cws. Bronze s sealed a prayer book around her waist, and boalismans hung loosely from her shoulders. As tall as Anissa, Impatient One had a somewhat shorter but much sturdier snout. The st time the two had fought, the shaman’s jaws had closed on her sister’s neck, choking the wolf hag into submission and denying Anissa the privilege of tasting Impatient One’s cws.

  But Anissa put up a valiaanearly tearing one of her sister’s breasts in their brutal struggle. For this reason, Janine pushed the stubbirl toward the shamanic path, a logical end for someone incapable of being a warlord. The girl had potential and brains, and Janine would be damned if she let her stay a simple wolf hag. Unfortunately, Anissa had failed retly, earning scars but not proving her devotion.

  A problem of memory, nothing serious. None of her daughters shared Janine’s disfigurement; their legs were of normal size. So what if Anissa stumbled a couple of times? Failure was a good teacher, for it revealed the most ued areas for improvement.

  Janine kneeled, drinking the bowl full of ioid blood from Impatient One’s paws, letting her bless the warlord’s armor. Shamans served as the spiritual and civil rulers of the Tribe, responsible for upholding the traditions and interpreting the will of the Blessed Mother. In Janine’s youth, the state was still in its infancy, weak and fragile. The shamans had to enforce strict rationing, resulting in the deaths of the Crippled and cubs, but the tribe endured, grew stronger from it, and hohe fallen.

  “Blessed be,” Impatient Ooned, bowing to Janine before looking at Marco. The warlord could have sworn that she saw the er of her lips move up as the shaman blessed her brother, patting him on the shoulder before moving on.

  They’ll spoil him. Janine pted. “What do we know about the enemy?”

  “Thousands of them, Warlord,” said Wolf Hag Melina, standing on a knee. “Normies mostly, but the locals spoke of structed teological horrors, capable of wiping out entire vilges for disobedience or failure to produce a quota.”

  “Have we spotted any of them?” Her helmet zoomed in so she could see the terrified people on the wall. She pitied them but also took note of the impressive ons. Not tools of the Old World, but something Teo-Queen had ied herself. Tin s of the a era cked the speed and agility to match a Wolfkin, even if their armor was almost iructible. She wondered how these toys would fare against them.

  “No. Nor do we know their numbers, appearance, or arsenal.” Melihe bitterness creep into her voice.

  “You disagree,” Jaated.

  “Terrific would never have handed over the prisoners without interrogating them first. Had she been here…”

  The Taleteller’s upward swing silehe woman, its force spraying dust and stone against her muzzle. Jaopped the bde a millimeter away from the wolf hag’s jaw.

  “Janine’s paot Terrific’s,” she reminded her officer. Several days ago, she caught a group of enemy soldiers in the middle of ext the locals. The warlord captured them in the opeing their ammunition hiss and drum harmlessly against her armor to test the potential of their ons. After a few sshed arms, the group surrendered, and she turhem over to the Ashbringer for delivery to the Blessed Mother. The old guard in her pack grumbled at such a light punishment. Terrific had… her own view of the w. “You gored a scout.” Based on the video provided by the HUD, the wolf hag had stu arm into the scout’s body and pulled out her iines.

  “In a rank challenge,” Melina did not deny the accusation.

  “She shall sit this o.”

  “Zolushka won’t like it. We pushed everything bad bandaged…” the wolf hag started.

  Janine’s jaws closed on her neck, biting through the rubberized neck guard and get to reach the woman and bleed her. She raised her off the ground, thrashing her head oo widen the wounds, then spat the wolf hag on the rocks as a punishment for the insubordination. This will leave a bloody wound, but the warlord avoided the arteries. Melina will experiene disfort, but it won’t affect her bat effectiveness. Terrific oftehem in worse shape.

  Janine was a simple person. She hated having her skin peeled off and her bones distorted. She assumed that others also hated it. As a warlord, she toned down the cruelty, applying just enough forake her rough girls submit. Initially, they took her clemency for weakness. A few months in the crawler’s hospital bays ged this view.

  “There will be h in my pack, save by my will or that of the Spirits. She is staying. Break her legs if you are uo and your pack,” Janine snapped. “And have the teis fix your armor.”

  “Yes, Warlord,” Melina jumped to her feet, bowed, and raced to her troops.

  “Keep treating disobedience softly, and it’ll spread like rot,” Soulless One whispered. Her lenses moved, trag Janine’s sons and the wolf hag.

  There were no words of prayer on the woman’s body; the skulls of fallen foes da every movement, many of them reduced to little more than broken shards on a series of s. Soulless One’s skin bulged around her artificial cheek, creating the unsightly impression of a festering pimple. In her youth, as a wolf hag, she stepped on a mihat reduced her to a mangled body. Doctors chose for the unscious woman, and impnts repced lost ans and bones, forever dimming the amber glow and damaging the e to the divine. She reeked of oil, and her fur was always dry.

  A lesser female would’ve joihe Crippled. Soulless One persevered, gained a shaman rank, and now oversaw Impatient Oransition into a full shaman. Her helmet’s silver lenses recorded everything; she was the one who sent the scout io Janine.

  “My pack. My rules. Don’t like them? Challenge me,” Janine bristled. The shaman exposed her throat. “Is the pack ready?”

  “Jawohl, mein kriegsherren.” Janine arched her brow at the unknown words, and the shaman expined. “It supposedly means: yes, warlord.”

  “Studying dead nguages makes for a poor hobby,” Janine chastised her.

  “The nguage isn’t dead!” A hint of passion snaked into the woman’s voice. “Iternian prisoaught it to me. They use it as one of their official nguages.”

  “And they also culled our kin. It is never wrong to improve oneself, but be wary of the source of the knowledge, lest it taint you,” the warlord warned her. “Answer me in on, shaman. Is it done?”

  “Life bearers are separated,” Soulless One replied, letting the wolf hags do the rest of the rep.

  Pack Janine, six hundred bck-cd bodies, answered the warlord’s call, smming a paw over their chests. There should have been more; her rank granted her a rule over a full two ‘paws’, but wars and heavy losses bled her pack. Six hundred Wolfkins, a forough to quer a nation alowo dozen more were separated to spare their lives, either due to injuries or because of the lives they carried uheir hearts.

  The warlord raised the Taleteller, greetiroops and bellowing an ear-pierg roar, answering Alpha that they were ready for bat. Every single one of her soldiers was power armor; they carried acid grenades on their belts, and magic locks held shardguns at their backs, freeing their paws for melee.

  Normies needed special prote and regur medie to survive the pollution that had wiped out all life in the capital’s environs. No ioid drones lurked in ambush. No bloodthirsty Malformed gang prowled in search of an unguarded vilge. Bare stone and star-hiding smoke ruled this part of the Wastes, bleag the skeletons of those unfortunate enough to be caught ioxis.

  Wolfkins shared no weaknesses of their fellow humans. As New Breeds, their bodies adapted to the dangers of the New World. They breathed the cmmy, toxin-ridden local air and didn’t get sick. Traces of radiation in the soil did no sting damage. Their blood coaguted fast enough to give them a ce of survival, even in the direst situations. Ahey died too, leaving their friends aives in the wake of every quest, fag other New Breeds and f them to bare their throats in submission to the Dynast, the man who will reuhe world.

  Such was the cost of a better world.