The phone on Marta’s desk had rung three times that morning.
That was still a novelty in itself.
Every ring felt like proof that the world was coming back to life — an invisible bridge humming between Libby and Spokane. The mayor’s voice on the other end always came through warm, proud, and still a little stunned.
“I swear, Thane, every time I pick this thing up it feels like talking to a ghost that learned manners,” he said that morning, chuckling through the line.
Thane grinned, leaning over Marta’s desk as she poured coffee for both of them. “You’re not wrong. Half the time, I still catch myself staring at it like it’s going to bite.”
“If it does,” the mayor laughed, “make sure you patent it.”
Marta smiled faintly, jotting notes about their latest trade schedule. “Alright, gentlemen. Spokane will send diesel and spare medical supplies by next week. Libby will ship flour and solar cells the week after.”
“Agreed,” the mayor said. “And please tell your people we’ve decided to paint a red line around the phone. Nobody’s allowed to touch it but me and the engineers. It’s like a holy relic.”
Thane chuckled. “After what it took to make it work, that’s fair.”
“Until next time,” the mayor said, his voice softening with genuine warmth. “Libby, thank you again. You gave us our voice back.”
The line clicked off with that satisfying analog thunk that no one had heard in twenty years. Marta leaned back, eyes gleaming. “It really is a miracle, isn’t it?”
Thane shrugged, though pride glimmered beneath the surface. “Just copper, current, and patience.”
“Don’t downplay it,” she said. “You’ve brought towns together faster than any government ever did.”
Thane smiled faintly. “Then let’s keep going.”
That afternoon’s town-hall meeting drew more people than any in recent memory. Word of the functioning hotline had spread fast, and Libby’s citizens — humans and wolves alike — filled the benches shoulder to shoulder.
Marta stood at the front, gesturing toward the map pinned behind her. “We’ve re-established communication with Spokane,” she said, her voice steady but excited. “And we’ve proven the system works. So… what’s next?”
A murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd.
Marta pointed toward the east side of the map. “Eureka. They were hit hard during the raids last year. We know survivors held the town, but they’ve been isolated. If we can link them up, we’ll have a three-city network.”
Gabriel raised a hand. “You’re talking about the same Eureka that sent us those letters by courier last winter?”
“Exactly,” Marta said. “They were trying to re-open trade routes, but without comms, it’s all guesswork. If we can connect them, they’ll finally have a lifeline.”
Thane nodded thoughtfully. “They’re on the same trunk line that runs through Libby. I could patch them easily once we’re there.”
Marta turned to him. “Then we’ll go — if you’re willing.”
Thane smirked. “When have I ever said no to a good field trip?”
The room laughed, and even Sable — who was visiting for council talks — gave a faint approving nod from the back. Marta outlined the plan: a multi-day road trip to visit friendly towns, reconnect them, and offer lines to the network. Thane would handle the technical work; Mark, Gabriel, and several ferals would assist; Marta would manage the diplomacy.
“Travel will be slow,” she said. “But if we succeed, every friendly town will be able to call for help — or for hope.”
The cheer that followed nearly shook the rafters.
The next morning dawned bright and cold.
The square buzzed with organized chaos — supplies being loaded, tools packed, and one stubborn coffee machine being debated over.
“Marta’s not leaving without her espresso setup,” Gabriel muttered, strapping it down beside the crates of wire spools.
Marta rolled her eyes. “It’s instant coffee, Gabriel. I’m not a diva.”
Thane smirked. “We know. That’s why you get your own tent.”
She blinked. “My own tent?”
Thane’s tone was matter-of-fact. “You’re our mayor. You get comfort. We’ll rough it.”
“Thane, that’s not necessary—”
“Respect thing,” Holt interrupted with a grin. “Mayor get bed. Wolves get dirt.”
Rime nodded solemnly. “Fair.”
Marta sighed in mock defeat. “Fine. But only if you all promise not to argue about who sleeps where.”
Thane snorted. “No promises.”
By noon, the convoy rolled out — two trucks and a supply trailer.
Their route would take them southwest first, toward Eureka, then on to Kalispell and Whitefish, two small towns that had weathered the worst of the Black Winter but still traded sporadically.
The road was half-frozen and bumpy, but laughter filled the cab. Gabriel rode shotgun with Thane, sketching notes for a future song titled “The Wolves Who Wired the World.”
“Catchy,” Thane said.
“Needs a verse about you swearing at a cable splice,” Gabriel replied.
“Already too realistic.”
Behind them, the second truck carried Mark, Marta, and four ferals — Holt, Rime, and two of Sable’s younger wolves, Tern and Lio. It didn’t take long before the younger ones started arguing about tent space, leading to the inevitable.
“I get corner spot!” Tern barked.
“Corner drafty,” Lio countered. “You take it.”
“Corner mine.”
“Not now it isn’t.”
Mark sighed from the driver’s seat. “I swear, you lot are worse than my kids were.”
Holt grinned. “We big kids.”
Marta just rubbed her temples. “I’m starting to understand why Thane gets that look sometimes.”
They reached Eureka by dusk.
The town sat quiet and wary — a handful of old brick buildings surrounded by pine. The smell of smoke and cooking fire hung on the air. When the trucks rolled in, heads turned; people stepped from doorways with curiosity and caution.
Thane climbed down first, his massive frame outlined by the last light of the sun. Marta followed, calm and steady, her presence grounding the moment. “We’re here in peace,” she called. “From Libby.”
An older man approached — lean, grizzled, wearing a patchwork coat and the cautious posture of someone who’d spent years keeping people alive. “Name’s Franklin,” he said. “I run what’s left of the council here.”
Marta extended a hand. “Marta Korrin, Mayor of Libby. This is Thane.”
Franklin’s eyes flicked up to Thane’s towering, fur-covered figure. “The… wolf I’ve heard about.”
Thane offered a polite nod. “Depends on the story.”
Franklin chuckled nervously. “Most of them end well. You’re the one who got phones talking again?”
“That’s me.”
“Well,” Franklin said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We could sure use one.”
Eureka’s town hall had once been a post office — brick walls, high windows, and a faded mural of mountains and mailmen. Thane unpacked his tools while the townsfolk gathered around in fascination.
“Just a few simple hookups,” he said, setting down a small inverter and battery bank. “This will power your phones even through the night.”
A young woman leaned close. “Phones? Like… dial phones?”
Thane grinned. “Exactly. Hear that hum?”
He twisted two copper pairs together, and a faint tone filled the handset. “That’s the sound of connection.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Marta smiled softly, watching the wonder spread.
Within an hour, Thane had the first line patched from the Eureka central cabinet to the trunk line that ran north toward Libby. “You’ll have a direct connection to City Hall,” he said, tightening a terminal screw. “Pick this one up, and Marta can hear you clear as day.”
Franklin looked almost overwhelmed. “You mean… just pick it up, and Libby answers?”
“Exactly.”
Thane hesitated, then added quietly, “And I wired a second line — dormant for now. If Spokane ever wants to connect you directly, they can. Just one patch in their office.”
Franklin stared at him for a long moment, then clapped his shoulder. “You wolves… you’re giving us the world back.”
Thane smiled. “Just the quiet parts first.”
That night, they camped outside town by the river.
Marta’s tent looked almost luxurious — a small cot, an electric lantern, and even a travel kettle powered by one of the battery packs.
The wolves’ tent beside it looked… less so.
It sagged slightly in the middle, smelled vaguely of pine and wet fur, and already contained more elbows, tails, and arguments than any structure should.
Holt shoved Rime’s leg. “You move paw.”
“Paw already move.”
“Move more.”
“Then no tent left.”
“Then I win.”
Mark poked his head through the flap. “You two done?”
“Almost,” Rime said flatly, as Holt pretended to snore loudly.
Gabriel laughed from his sleeping bag. “This is better than radio.”
Marta’s muffled voice came from her tent. “If you all tear that down in the middle of the night, you’re rebuilding it before breakfast!”
“Understood,” Thane called.
An hour later, as the fire burned low, one long, unmistakable sound echoed from the wolves’ tent.
Holt muttered, “Not me.”
“Was you,” Rime said immediately.
“Was wind.”
“Inside tent?”
“Wind sneaky.”
Gabriel groaned, laughing into his blanket. “There it is. First wolf fart of the mission.”
Thane just rolled over with a sigh. “I swear, if this tent smells any worse, I’m making all of you sleep in the dirt.”
Morning brought laughter instead of argument.
The townsfolk of Eureka stopped by to deliver fresh bread and coffee in thanks. Franklin shook Marta’s hand firmly. “The line works. We called Libby at dawn. I don’t think we’ll ever stop hearing that tone.”
Marta smiled. “Don’t. It’s the sound of life.”
Thane packed up the tools and stretched. “One town down,” he said. “Two more to go.”
Gabriel strummed a lazy chord on his guitar, already composing lyrics under his breath. “Wires hum like rivers, and wolves sing the spark… Yeah. That’s a keeper.”
Mark grinned. “Just don’t make it rhyme with ‘fart.’”
“Too late,” Gabriel said, still smiling.
As they loaded the trucks, the townspeople waved — some cautiously, most warmly — and children shouted goodbye from rooftops.
Marta turned to Thane as the engines started. “You realize this might become history, don’t you?”
Thane smiled, glancing back at the rising town. “Then let’s make sure it’s a good story.”
And with that, the convoy rolled on — toward Kalispell, Whitefish, and the growing hum of a world learning how to speak again.