The little boy clutched the apple so tightly that his fingers left shallow dents in its skin. He didn’t eat it right away — just held it like something holy, like maybe it would disappear if he blinked.
Thane walked a few paces ahead, the sun cutting along the edge of his shoulders. Gabriel stayed closer to the family — two adults and that small, wide-eyed child — letting them find a rhythm that wasn’t pure panic. The road toward Libby wound through trees slick with thaw, a brown-green ribbon bordered by frost and shadow.
The man’s name was Caleb, though he’d said it softly, like the sound might cost him something. His wife, Anna, didn’t speak much at all. Her breath came thin and sharp, her cheeks too hollow. They looked like they’d been walking for weeks — which, in this new world, probably meant they had.
“You’re safe now,” Gabriel said, keeping his tone light. “Town’s a good place. Power, food, people who don’t shoot first.”
Caleb looked at him sidelong. “And wolves who talk.”
Gabriel smirked. “Best part of the deal.”
Thane slowed a bit, hearing the tension in that line. He didn’t correct Gabriel — humor had its place — but he caught the scent of fear lingering off the humans. It wasn’t sharp panic anymore, but a kind of exhaustion that had sunk too deep to rise again.
The boy finally took a bite of the apple. The small crunch echoed softly through the pines.
They reached the first sight of Libby by midday — rooftops framed by distant mountains, a faint plume of chimney smoke curling into the sky. It was a town that still remembered what civilization used to be, even if it was patchwork now: tarps over broken windows, hydro cables running down from the dam, and hand-painted signs for trade goods nailed to the sides of old trucks.
Two townsfolk spotted them first. One was a woman hauling water, the other a man with a rifle slung across his back. They both froze as soon as they saw the newcomers — or rather, the company they kept.
“Don’t,” Thane said quietly, without even looking their way. His voice carried the calm authority that came from too many years of being obeyed. The man’s hand dropped from the rifle’s strap almost instantly.
When they reached the edge of town, Sheriff Hank Ward was waiting. His denim jacket had a new patch on one sleeve — a stitched emblem of Libby’s town crest. His hand rested near his holster, not because he meant to use it, but because old habits die hard.
“Thane,” he said in greeting, eyes flicking to the humans. “You found our visitors.”
“Three of them,” Thane said. “No weapons, no sickness I can smell. Tired, hungry. They say they came from Thompson Falls.”
“Thompson Falls?” Hank’s brows rose. “That’s over a hundred miles south. That town’s dust now.”
Caleb nodded slowly. “We saw it. Fires everywhere. Some people… changed. Not from the virus, not exactly.” His gaze shifted, uncertain. “You don’t want to go there.”
Gabriel’s tail flicked. “Didn’t plan to.”
Hank studied the group for a long moment before sighing. “Alright. Let’s take ‘em to Marta. Council’ll want to hear it.”
The town hall — once a library, still smelling faintly of old paper — felt too bright inside. Lamps powered by the dam’s current flickered overhead, their hum filling the quiet between voices. The council gathered in the main room, seated around a long table patched together from mismatched furniture.
Marta Korrin sat at the head, braid coiled like a crown, a thick notebook open before her. She looked up as the pack entered. “You brought them in safe?”
Thane nodded. “They made it to the quarry. Hungry, but alive.”
Caleb and Anna hovered by the door, the boy half-hiding behind his mother’s torn coat. Marta’s eyes softened immediately. “Please, sit.”
The woman’s voice cracked. “We don’t want to cause trouble. We just—”
“You won’t,” Marta said. “We’ll see to that.”
From the other end of the table, a man with grease-stained hands — one of the engineers — cleared his throat. “Mayor, with respect, food stores are tight. Winter was long. We can’t take everyone who wanders in.”
“We can take them,” Gabriel said before Thane could speak. His tone wasn’t confrontational, just firm. “They’ve got a kid.”
The man looked like he wanted to argue, but Thane’s gaze landed on him like a weight. Whatever he saw in the Alpha’s blue eyes shut his mouth fast.
Marta looked to Hank. “What’s your read?”
Hank crossed his arms. “They’re not raiders. Not armed. They look like they’ve seen worse than we can imagine. But we should quarantine ‘em for a few days, just to be safe.”
Caleb lifted his hands slightly. “We understand. Anything you need to make sure we’re clean.”
Gabriel crouched beside the boy, lowering his massive frame until they were eye to eye. “You like stories, kid?”
The boy nodded shyly.
“Good,” Gabriel said, tapping his nose. “When we get you settled, I’ll tell you one about a wolf who found the moon hiding in his coffee mug.”
That earned the faintest laugh — a sound so small it felt like gold.
Thane caught Marta’s approving glance. “There’s a shed by the east field,” she said. “We’ll clean it out, give them blankets, rations, and space to rest. Hank, you’ll post a watch. Thane—”
He nodded before she finished. “We’ll help reinforce the walls. If they’re staying, they stay safe.”
By dusk, the new family had shelter. Mark had shown up with a bundle of solar lanterns and a pail of water. Gabriel was tuning his guitar outside the shed while the boy watched with fascinated eyes, feet kicking at the dirt.
Inside, Anna sat near the cot, her hands trembling as she peeled an orange someone had traded them. Caleb stood at the doorway, silent, watching Thane hammer the last of the boards over a broken window.
“You didn’t have to help,” Caleb said quietly.
Thane didn’t look up. “Didn’t have to survive either. But we did.”
That drew a small, weary smile. “I guess that’s reason enough.”
When the work was done, Thane and Gabriel started back toward the main road, the sky glowing violet behind the mountains. Crickets had returned for the first time in weeks — faint, hopeful music in the trees.
Mark’s voice came over the radio. “Thane? You might want to see this.”
Thane lifted the unit. “Go ahead.”
“I was running diagnostics on the repeater network. Same anomaly as before. Signal strength doubled.”
Gabriel frowned. “That AI thing again?”
Mark hesitated. “Maybe. But here’s the weird part — it used our frequency this time. Channel five.”
Thane stopped walking. The quiet stretched long enough for the night to settle around them.
“Any message?” he asked finally.
A pause. Then Mark’s voice came through, low and uneasy:
“Yeah. Just one word.”
HELLO.