The morning came slow and gray, the kind of cold light that made even strong things look fragile. Libby was already stirring—hammer strikes, shovels scraping, boots in snow—but the cabin remained quiet. Inside, the fire had burned to embers, leaving a soft orange pulse across the walls.
Thane sat at the edge of his bed, still shirtless, bandages showing beneath the fur of his shoulder. The wound had knitted enough to make movement tolerable, but every breath reminded him of how close it had come. The sound of paws pacing outside told him he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.
He pushed himself up, pulled on his gray cargo pants, and stepped out onto the porch.
Rime stood like a sentinel by the railing, silent as ever, eyes tracking the forest beyond. Holt sat beside the steps, claws dug into the frozen dirt, looking like a mountain waiting for orders. When he turned and saw Thane upright, his ears shot up and his tail thumped once, uncertain but hopeful.
Thane smiled faintly. “You can stop guarding the snow, Holt. It hasn’t attacked anyone all morning.”
Rime’s lips twitched, just short of a grin. Holt rumbled a laugh but didn’t move. “Snow quiet now. Holt stay ready.”
Thane stepped down from the porch, clawed feet crunching on the frost, and reached out a hand. “You’ve been ready since the shot. Both of you.”
Rime tilted his head slightly. “You shouldn’t be walking yet.”
“Probably not,” Thane said, “but if Garrick Voss is really coming, I’m not about to spend my last calm day in bed.”
Holt stood, towering a head above him, still hesitant. Thane reached out, gripping his shoulder. “You both did good. Better than good. You kept me alive, kept everyone steady.” His voice dropped, gravel softening. “You represent your pack well. You’re true warriors—and a damn good musician,” he added with a small nod and smile to Holt.
Holt blinked like he hadn’t heard right. “Alpha mean that?”
Thane gave him a firm nod. “With all my heart.”
He turned to Rime. “And you—steady as bedrock. You’ve got the kind of control the young ones need to see.”
Rime dipped his muzzle, ears lowering slightly. “It’s an honor to guard.”
Thane shook his head. “No. It’s an honor to have you both guarding me. If there’s ever anything either of you need, you come to me. You don’t ask permission. You don’t wait. I’ll be there.”
The silence that followed was heavy with meaning. Rime’s eyes softened in something close to awe. Holt’s throat worked as he tried to swallow the lump forming there.
“Alpha…” Holt’s voice cracked. “No Alpha ever say that to us.”
“Maybe they should have,” Thane said simply. Then he surprised both of them by pulling them into a hug. Rime froze, unprepared for it, and Holt’s tail wagged once, tentatively.
When he finally stepped back, the two ferals stood straighter, shoulders squared, as if the weight of his words had turned them into stone and steel both.
From that moment on, wherever Thane went, the two were there—Rime on his left, Holt on his right, silent, alert, and utterly loyal.
By midday, Libby was alive with preparation. The clang of metal echoed through the town square as volunteers hammered together barricades and braces. Smoke rose from the blacksmith’s forge, where two of Sable’s wolves were learning to shape metal under human guidance, their claws glinting as they passed tools with surprising delicacy.
Children hauled baskets of sand for filling bags, while Marta coordinated from the steps of town hall, clipboard in hand.
Thane strode into the square with his escorts, drawing looks from every direction. His injury had already become legend, and seeing him walking again—flanked by two massive feral wolves—brought quiet relief to those who saw him.
Hank spotted him first and waved. “Look who’s back among the living!”
“Barely,” Thane replied with a wry grin. “But I hear dying’s bad for morale, so I figured I’d skip it.”
Hank barked a laugh and handed him a mug of steaming coffee. “Welcome back.”
Holt leaned down, sniffing the cup suspiciously. “Coffee.”
Thane smirked. “Yes, but not for you. Last time, your pack nearly tore down the hotel.”
Holt growled softly in protest, and Rime nudged him with an elbow. “He mean you did.”
Gabriel’s voice cut through the noise as he approached from the radio tower, his coat dusted with sawdust. “You sure you’re supposed to be walking around? The doc said a week of rest.”
Thane tilted his head. “You sound like Mark.”
“Good,” Gabriel said flatly. “Because you don’t listen to him either.”
Thane chuckled, then noticed Gabriel’s gaze shift briefly—past him, toward the two ferals glued to his sides. Jealousy flickered across his expression before he looked away, pretending to adjust the strap on his tool belt.
“Easy, pup,” Thane murmured softly enough for only him to hear. “They’re bodyguards, not replacements.”
Gabriel shot him a sideways look, the faintest grin breaking through. “Could’ve fooled me. They follow you like shadows.”
“Big, fuzzy shadows,” Thane said. “And trust me—if I’m ever buried under debris, they’ll be the ones digging me out. You can keep being the pretty one.”
Gabriel laughed, shaking his head. “Fine, old man. But if they start fetching your coffee too, we’re gonna have words.”
“Promise you’ll go easy on them,” Thane said. “They’re still learning sarcasm.”
Holt, picking up the tail end of the exchange, tilted his head. “Sar-casm?”
Rime sighed. “It means Alpha teasing. Dangerous thing. Avoid.”
Gabriel laughed outright now, and even Holt gave a puzzled grin. The tension between them melted like frost under sunlight.
Mark appeared next, grease-streaked and half-smiling, carrying a coil of cable over one shoulder. “Tower’s wired. Backup switch’s ready. You’d better not get shot again before I can test it.”
Thane raised an eyebrow. “I’ll try not to make a habit of it.”
“Good,” Mark said. “We’re all out of duct tape.”
They shared a short, quiet laugh before Marta called across the square, “Thane! You got a minute?”
He crossed over, Rime and Holt pacing beside him in perfect sync. Marta nodded approvingly. “You’re up and moving. That’s good. Town’s shaping up fast—barricades on all main roads, lookouts on the ridge, power substation fortified. I’ve got two wolves stationed at each gate with human spotters.”
Thane looked over the map she unrolled on the table. “You’ve done damn well, Marta. You’ve got the makings of a general.”
She smiled faintly. “I’d settle for everyone making it through winter.”
“They will,” Thane said, conviction steady as bedrock. “We’ve got food, power, and enough claws and guns to make Voss think twice.”
Hank leaned over the map. “He’ll come from the east. River crossings are shallow there. But we’ll see him coming. I’ll have scouts posted every half mile.”
Thane nodded, scanning the lines. “Good. If he’s smart, he’ll send advance men to test our defenses. We’ll let him think we’re soft, then show him what a mistake that was.”
Holt’s ears perked. “Alpha want Holt on wall?”
“Not yet,” Thane said. “For now, you help the humans reinforce the east barricade. Use that strength of yours for hauling, not breaking.”
Holt grinned proudly. “Holt haul good.”
“You do,” Thane said warmly. “And maybe after, you can play for the workers. Keep spirits up.”
Holt puffed up with pride, tail thumping against the ground. “Yes, Alpha.”
Marta raised an eyebrow. “Play?”
Gabriel, now behind them, smirked. “Oh yeah. Wait till you hear him. He’s the biggest, scariest rhythm guitarist you’ve ever met.”
The humans nearby laughed, tension easing for a moment. Even Rime chuckled low in his throat.
Thane folded the map carefully and handed it back to Marta. “You’ve done good work. Tell everyone to rest when they can. Once this starts, it won’t stop until it’s finished.”
Marta’s expression softened. “And you? You should rest too.”
Thane smiled faintly. “Later.”
He stepped away, eyes lifting toward the mountains where the clouds were thickening, gray and heavy. The air smelled of coming snow.
As dusk fell, the town grew quiet. Lanterns glowed in windows. The wolves patrolled the outskirts, shadows moving through the trees.
Thane walked the ridge above the town, Rime and Holt at his sides. From up here, Libby looked small but alive—a spark of light in a dead world.
Gabriel joined them partway up, carrying two mugs of hot tea. He handed one to Thane, keeping his gaze on the valley. “Hard to believe this little place is the last real town left west of Glendive.”
Thane took a sip. “Then it’s up to us to keep it that way.”
Gabriel nodded, his expression softening as he glanced at the two ferals standing close by. “You’ve really gotten through to them, huh?”
“They’re good souls,” Thane said. “Just needed someone to see it.”
Holt’s ears flicked. “Alpha see all.”
Thane chuckled. “Not all, Holt. Just enough.”
The four of them stood in silence for a while, watching the horizon fade into dusk. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of snow and something else—anticipation, sharp and clean.
Thane finally broke the quiet. “Tomorrow, we finish the defenses. The next day… maybe we fight.”
Gabriel smirked faintly. “You sure you’re up for that?”
Thane took another sip of tea, eyes on the distant darkness. “You know me. I’ve been through worse.”
Gabriel smiled. “Yeah, but not with this many people watching.”
“Then I’ll just have to make it a good show.”
Rime huffed softly, amused. Holt tilted his head. “Show?”
Thane grinned, ice blue eyes glinting in the twilight. “You’ll see.”
They stood together as the first flakes began to fall—Alpha, pack, and friends—watching the world turn quiet before the storm.