The morning started crisp and blue, the kind of autumn day where the cold nipped ears and the sun warmed everything it touched. Mark leaned over the hood of the old flatbed truck, wiping grease off his claws with a rag. The engine rumbled to life for the first time in years, coughing once before settling into a proud growl.
Marta stood nearby with her clipboard and her ever-present smile. “So what’s the shopping list this time?”
“Electronics, inverters, spare panels, wiring,” Mark said. “Maybe a few batteries if we get lucky. The solar array on the west ridge needs backup capacity.”
“Alright,” she said. “But be careful out there. Raiders have been pushing farther west. They’re not stupid enough to come here again after the last lesson, but they’re still out there.”
Thane climbed into the truck bed, tightening the strap on a supply crate. “We’ll manage,” he said. “We’ve got a few volunteers from the north coming along.”
Marta raised an eyebrow. “Wolves?”
“Of course,” Gabriel said, hopping up beside Thane with a thermos in hand. “Every adventure’s better with wolves.”
By the time the ferals arrived, the engine was purring and the morning mist had burned away. There were six of them, all grinning and curious, tails swishing as they sniffed the air and examined the truck like it might take off and fly. Sable wasn’t with them, but Rime stepped forward, handing Thane a folded scrap of paper.
“Sable gave me,” he said.
Thane opened it. The note was short.
Treat him as Alpha.
Return whole.
Thane smiled faintly and tucked it away.
One of the wolves, a massive brown-black male named Holt, was already nursing a tin cup of something dark. Gabriel leaned down from the truck bed, grinning. “You packed the coffee?”
Holt’s eyes lit up. “Yes.”
“Of course you did.”
Another feral, smaller and sharp-tongued, smirked. “He drinks lightning water like pup drinks milk.”
Holt growled, low and annoyed. “It keeps me strong.”
“It keeps you shaking,” the smaller one teased.
Holt’s ears flattened. “You want to test?”
Laughter rippled through the group until Holt moved faster than anyone expected—one paw on the smaller wolf’s chest, pinning him to the ground with a snarl that echoed off the square. Silence dropped like a hammer.
Thane looked down from the truck bed. “You done?”
Holt huffed and stepped back. “Done.”
Gabriel snorted laughter so hard he nearly spilled his coffee. “Oh, this trip is gonna be fun.”
“Get in,” Thane said, grinning despite himself. “We’ve got daylight to burn.”
The truck rolled out of Libby with a groan of gears and a plume of dust. Mark drove, the wolves riding in the flatbed — tails in the wind, eyes half-closed as they breathed in the scents of pine, wet earth, and the faint tang of autumn smoke. Gabriel perched on the side rail, guitar slung over his back, singing half a song to the rhythm of the tires.
“Feels like the old world again,” he said.
“Quieter,” Thane replied.
“Better,” Mark added from the cab window.
They followed Highway 2 east until the faded green sign announced a name half-eaten by rust — Wolf Point, once a small city and now a ghost. They turned off toward the industrial district, rolling between the silent skeletons of old buildings and parked trucks long reclaimed by vines.
Holt jumped down first, scanning the air. “No people. No fresh scent.”
“Good,” Thane said. “Let’s make it quick.”
The wolves spread out under Mark’s direction. In the first warehouse they found racks of broken appliances and crates of sealed electronics. Dust puffed with every step, the light from broken skylights painting gold stripes through the gloom.
“Panels!” Mark called, pointing at a stack of solar frames still wrapped in plastic. “Grab ’em.”
Two ferals lifted one each like sheets of cardboard.
Gabriel found a crate full of old stereo components and whistled. “Hey, Thane. You want a party sound system?”
Thane glanced over. “You find one?”
“PA system, amp, CD deck. Totally useless… but I’m claiming it.”
“Take it,” Thane said. “The town’ll thank you when you start another house party.”
They loaded the truck with everything salvageable — panels, batteries, spare wire, mechanical parts, even sealed cans of fuel that miraculously hadn’t rusted through. The wolves moved with easy rhythm, efficient and strong, trading jokes as they worked.
Gabriel kept slipping Holt refills of coffee from his thermos, grinning like the devil every time the big wolf’s eyes brightened. The others groaned.
“Stop feeding him that,” Rime said. “He talks too much when charged.”
Holt bared his teeth in a grin. “Then listen faster.”
By mid-afternoon, the truck was piled high, the last of the boxes strapped down tight. Thane hopped into the bed, scanning the sky — still clear, sun tilting west. “Let’s roll home,” he said.
Mark revved the engine. The convoy rolled west, quiet except for the wind and the occasional clink of metal. The mood was easy, satisfied. Until they rounded a bend in the highway and saw the roadblock.
A dusty pickup sat sideways across the asphalt, blocking the lane. Two figures stood beside it, rifles slung low, waving for the flatbed to stop.
Mark slowed, engine idling. “Well, that’s new,” he said.
Thane’s voice was calm. “Keep it slow. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
The truck rolled to a halt twenty feet short of the blockade. One of the men raised a hand. “Afternoon! Road’s closed ahead — construction hazard. You’ll need to pay a small toll to pass.”
Gabriel’s grin was immediate. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
The two men didn’t notice the silhouettes shifting in the truck bed behind him. Not until one of them took a step closer, saw the claws on the rail, and froze.
“What the hell—”
He didn’t finish. Holt moved like a missile — one moment crouched, the next he hit the ground running, a dark blur that closed twenty feet in a heartbeat. He slammed into the nearest bandit, sending rifle and man flying. The second barely had time to blink before he was staring down a half-dozen glowing eyes and an entire truckload of wolves baring their teeth.
The rifle hit the dirt. “Nope!” he squeaked, hands raised.
Thane dropped from the truck bed, landing in front of them with deliberate slowness. “Afternoon,” he said. “You picked the wrong toll booth.”
He turned to the wolves. “Line up.”
They stepped forward in a neat row, every one of them baring teeth in perfect synchronization.
Gabriel leaned against the truck, trying not to laugh. “Gentlemen, I’d suggest you surrender your weapons before my friends here decide they’re hungry.”
The bandit on the ground made a strangled noise that might’ve been agreement. The other nodded so fast his cap fell off.
“Good choice,” Thane said, voice calm as stone. “Drop everything. Leave the guns. Walk away.”
They obeyed instantly, stumbling over each other to get clear. The wolves watched silently until the men were back in their own vehicle, tires spinning as they tore off down the highway.
As the dust settled, a faint snicker came from the back. One of the younger wolves grinned. “One of them smells like fear.”
Rime corrected him, deadpan. “Not fear. Pee.”
The entire truck burst out laughing. Even Thane cracked a grin.
Gabriel doubled over, clutching his stomach. “Ohhh, I love this pack. You’re all invited to the next coffee tasting.”
Holt gave him a look that was half a threat, half a promise. “Bring more beans.”
Thane climbed back into the flatbed, shaking his head. “Next time,” he said, “we’re leaving you two home.”
“Blasphemy,” Gabriel said.
Mark started the truck again, still chuckling. “You realize word’s gonna spread about this.”
“Good,” Thane said, watching the road ahead as the engine roared back to life. “Fear travels farther than bullets.”
The wolves laughed again, the sound rolling with the wind as the flatbed rumbled westward — loaded with supplies, with stories, and with one caffeinated wolf still sipping triumphantly from his thermos.