It began with the sound of engines.
Not one or two, like a normal supply run, but a rumble that rolled down the west road in a steady, growing chorus. From the radio tower, Gabriel leaned out the window and squinted toward the treeline.
“Uh… boss?” he said into the handheld. “We’ve either got visitors or someone’s trying to invade politely.”
Thane, sitting near the square with Holt and Rime, lifted his head. “How many?”
“Six vehicles,” Gabriel answered. “Big ones. Looks like a convoy.”
Thane’s ears tipped forward. “That’s… too many for trade.”
“Maybe heard stew was good,” Holt offered.
“Or come for Holt singing,” Rime added dryly.
“Ha!” Holt barked. “They come for wolves, stay for voice.”
Thane smirked. “You sound confident.”
“I sound true.”
Thane’s comm crackled again. “Hank’s on the wall,” Gabriel said. “He’s flagging you.”
By the time Thane reached the west gate, the sound was unmistakable: engines idling, crunching snow, the metallic hiss of exhaust in the cold. Hank stood atop the barricade, binoculars in hand, scarf snapping in the breeze. He looked down at Thane and muttered, “You’re not gonna believe this.”
“Try me.”
Hank pointed. “Spokane.”
Thane’s brow furrowed. “Already?”
“They sure didn’t pack light,” Hank said. “Six trucks, maybe thirty-five people. I count at least three with clipboards, and—uh—one waving.”
Thane squinted. “That’s the mayor.”
“Yep. And his kid’s with him.”
Thane couldn’t help the grin that tugged his muzzle. “Open the gate.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Thane said. “If they came to fight, they wouldn’t have brought children.”
Hank chuckled. “Fair point.” He signaled the guards. The heavy wooden gates creaked open, hinges groaning. Snow dusted down from the tops as the convoy rolled to a careful stop.
The lead truck door opened, and out stepped Mayor Hal Mason — bundled in a long brown coat, face red from the cold, grin wide as the valley. Beside him, the small figure of his son Eli hopped down, his hat slipping sideways.
Thane didn’t wait for introductions; he waved them forward. “Mayor Mason. Eli.”
The mayor broke into a huge smile. “Thane, I’ll be damned! I told you we’d visit!”
Eli grinned up at him. “You remember me!”
“I’d have to be struck deaf and blind to forget you,” Thane said warmly. “You’re the bravest human I’ve met.”
Eli puffed his chest. “I told everyone about you! Half the city didn’t believe me, so they came too!”
That earned laughter from the crowd of bundled figures behind the mayor — Spokane townsfolk, traders, engineers, and curious citizens all trying to look casual about standing in front of real wolves.
Marta appeared at Thane’s shoulder, coat dusted with snow, clipboard in hand. “Now this is a surprise.”
Mayor Mason stepped forward, shaking her hand with both of his. “We hope it’s a good one. We brought fuel, food, and goodwill… though mostly curiosity, I’ll admit.”
Marta raised an eyebrow. “And thirty-five volunteers?”
He laughed. “Everyone wanted to meet the wolves. I couldn’t exactly stop them.”
Thane chuckled. “Then let’s meet the wolves.”
He tilted his head back and let out a howl — long, clear, carrying over the rooftops and through the frozen forest.
The sound echoed, hung a moment, and answered.
A ripple of movement stirred in the trees — white against gray, motion against stillness. Fifteen ferals, led by Sable herself, emerged from the snow-shadowed pines. Their fur caught the sunlight like silver thread. The Spokane visitors froze as the wolves descended the slope, moving not like beasts but like a formation — steady, composed, eyes bright with recognition.
Sable reached the gate first, her gaze flicking between Thane and the humans. “Call bring us quick,” she said. “All well?”
“All well,” Thane said. “We have guests.”
She looked the convoy over. “Many.”
“Volunteers,” Marta said dryly.
The mayor found his voice. “My word… they’re magnificent.”
Sable tilted her head. “He speak strange.”
Thane smirked. “All humans do.”
Inside the walls, the convoy parked along the main road. People spilled from the trucks, chattering and laughing nervously, trying not to stare. Libby’s residents came out of their homes, cautious at first, then smiling as greetings began to ripple back and forth. Someone shouted, “Spokane!” and applause broke out, awkward but sincere.
Mayor Mason extended his hands in apology. “I swear we didn’t mean to overrun you. It’s just… after word got around, I had more volunteers than sense. Everyone wanted to see for themselves.”
Thane’s grin widened. “You’re welcome here. And if they came to see wolves—” he gestured to the square “—let’s make it worth the trip.”
Within minutes, the town transformed. Tables were dragged into the square, tarps stretched into awnings, and the big kettle from the town hall basement found its way to the fire pit. Holt hauled barrels of water while Rime helped the merchants unload their trade goods, moving with the quiet precision that fascinated the onlookers. Children peeked from behind their parents, giggling when a wolf glanced their way.
Gabriel appeared with a guitar slung over his back, grinning. “Guess it’s a party now.”
Thane raised an eyebrow. “You volunteering for entertainment duty?”
“Already tuning,” Gabriel said. “Holt, you’re up.”
Holt looked scandalized. “Up where?”
“Second guitar.”
“Oh.” He brightened immediately. “Music. Yes. Play good.”
Rime muttered, “Maybe.”
By midday, the square was alive. Smoke curled from cookfires; laughter spilled between buildings. The scent of roasting vegetables mingled with cured meat and coffee strong enough to wake the dead. Sable and her ferals mingled easily among humans, the older ones trading goods, the younger ones letting curious Spokane kids pet their fur with careful, delighted hands.
Marta coordinated trades with the mayor’s aides — diesel for flour, textiles for metal parts, spare radio components for medical stock. She did it all with her calm precision, balancing warmth and shrewdness. “We’re all rebuilding,” she said at one point. “Might as well do it together.”
Mayor Mason smiled. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Holt and Gabriel took the stage — which was, technically, two stacked crates by the well. Gabriel strummed a lazy rhythm, voice low and smooth. “Alright, Spokane,” he said, “this one’s about peace, fur, and questionable decisions.”
Holt grinned and jumped in, voice rough but steady. “We come from trees and mountain stones, / Found new pack, made it home…”
The crowd clapped along, hesitant at first, then louder. Someone produced a harmonica. Someone else started dancing, boots skidding on the icy stones. Even Sable cracked a faint, rare smile.
Rime leaned on a post beside Thane and muttered, “They loud.”
“Good loud,” Thane said.
“Still loud,” Rime replied, but his tail flicked once, betraying amusement.
Near the fire, Eli had gathered a small group of Spokane kids and two feral adolescents. They sat cross-legged in the snow, comparing claw sizes and laughing over whose footprints were bigger.
One little girl gasped as a young gray wolf traced a pawprint next to her mitten. “It’s bigger than my whole hand!”
“Strong paws,” the wolf said shyly.
“Fast paws,” Eli added.
“Clumsy paws,” the gray admitted, earning laughter all around.
Hank wandered past with a mug in hand and shook his head, smiling. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
Marta walked by beside him. “Which part? Wolves teaching, or humans trusting them?”
“Both.”
As the afternoon stretched on, trading gave way to stories. Spokane merchants spoke of rebuilding old markets and radio stations. Libby’s residents told tales of how the wolves helped defend the town during the Black Winter raids. Someone roasted chestnuts. Someone else discovered that Holt had never eaten popcorn and promptly fixed that.
“Pops in mouth!” Holt exclaimed, eyes wide as the kernel cracked. “Magic food!”
Gabriel laughed so hard he nearly dropped his guitar. “That’s it. I’m writing a song called ‘Magic Food.’”
Rime muttered, “Do not.”
“Too late,” Gabriel said. “It’s happening.”
The mayor’s wife approached Thane near the fire, smiling shyly. “You’ve given our city hope,” she said. “They’ve been telling stories since the day you left. Real ones this time. Not fear, not rumor. Just… wonder.”
Thane inclined his head. “Then we’re even. Spokane gave us fuel and faith that humans can still laugh.”
“Seems fair trade,” she said warmly.
By sunset, the sky burned gold over the frozen treetops. The square was still full — humans and wolves side by side, laughter carrying into the cold air. Someone began humming The Road to Spokane, and soon Gabriel picked it up, the melody wrapping around the square like a memory made real.
When the last verse faded, Mayor Mason clapped his hands. “Alright, friends, before the roads get dark, we’d better roll back. Spokane’s going to think we got kidnapped by kindness.”
Marta laughed. “You’d have eaten too well for ransom.”
Holt grinned, wiping soup from his chin. “Come back soon. Bring more popcorn.”
Eli threw his arms around Thane’s leg. “You’ll visit again?”
Thane crouched, voice gentle. “Count on it. You tell your dad we still owe him coffee.”
Eli giggled. “I’ll remind him!”
The mayor extended a hand. Thane took it — clawed, massive, steady. “Until next time,” Mason said.
“Until next time,” Thane echoed.
The convoy loaded up slowly, waving goodbyes. Libby’s people lined the road, lanterns flickering, breath steaming in the orange twilight. As the engines rumbled to life, Holt raised his muzzle and howled — not warning or challenge, but farewell. The sound carried long and low, and to everyone’s surprise, several Spokane voices joined in laughter and imitation.
Thane watched them disappear down the road until the sound of tires faded. Then he looked around the square — empty plates, melting snow prints, and the faint red glow of coals. The quiet afterward was warm, not hollow.
Marta came to stand beside him. “That went better than I dared hope.”
Thane nodded. “This is how it starts. People showing up, not to fight… but to see.”
Holt padded over, holding a half-empty bag of popcorn. “I keep this.”
“You earned it,” Thane said.
Rime looked toward the forest edge where Sable’s ferals were vanishing back into the trees. “Good day.”
Thane watched the last taillight vanish into dusk. “A very good day,” he agreed. “A better world.”
The night fell soft, full of echoes — laughter, music, and the memory of a hundred humans waving at a pack of wolves like neighbors who’d known them forever.