1

It was the middle of the night when Brett woke up. They had stayed in the spoon position and Emma’s head still rested on his arm. He could feel her warm breath cascade over his skin.

I wonder if the fuckers got out of the tower, he thought to himself. A voice inside him told him it didn’t matter. He had everything he wanted. But his curiosity persisted, accompanied by a continuing hatred for his former teammates. Especially the jarhead. Brett hadn’t forgotten the beatdown Zack had laid on him.

He’s probably doing the same thing to the rookies. Brett didn’t care about that. He was ambivalent to the new recruits. But he did care that the jarhead was roaming around like the cock of the walk.

Then there was that bastard who had defiled his lady. The CEO’s entitled son, who’d had his way with Emma. Brett had watched their coupling from the ground as the two Grimalkin members had actually fucked in a tree. In a fucking tree, he thought, just like a couple of monkeys! His anger built to a crescendo. But none of that matters now, his mind told him. Emma wanted the truce, and they had it.

Brett’s eyelids reduced down to slits. Do we? he asked himself. What’s to stop them from ambushing us when our guard is down? His face contorted with rage. Fuck. It might even be Zack or Jordan taking things into their own hands.

Brett lay rigidly on their soft bed with the fire still warming the A-frame. It’s my duty, he thought. Go on a little recon mission. Monitor their actions.

But Emma! She wouldn’t approve, his mind called out desperately. And that was right. He pulled her closer, smelling the perfume of her body. She moaned gently in her sleep.

By now, in his own perverted way, Brett loved her deeply. Part of what made Emma so alluring was her sweet nature. But with that, he had perceived a certain naivety. He’d believed she was too trusting and that he knew better. He carefully slid his arm from under her and rose from their bed.

She remained asleep.

Brett stepped out of the A-frame, dressed, and equipped his armor, then began walking toward the tower. Three wolves followed him while the rest stayed with Emma. Once again, Warg was nowhere to be found.

Within ten minutes, Brett had made it to the shore and started scanning through the walls of the tower, disappointed that the structure hadn’t completely capsized.

“They’re not in there,” he whispered to himself.

A low growl emanated from behind him. He turned and saw Warg perched high on the slope. The wolf’s eyes appeared more red that ever, and its ears were a dark maroon in the moonlight.

“What is it, boy?” he asked with genuine concern. “Why are you changing?”

Warg’s lips peeled back as its body tensed. The growl was more constant now. Brett extended his hand, wanting to disarm the situation. The wolf surprisingly jumped at him, colliding with his chest. Brett slammed hard against a jutted rock, crying out painfully. Warg went for his throat.

He blocked it with his arm and held the wolf at bay, still shocked by what was transpiring. He pounded his fist into the animal’s muzzle, but it kept lunging at his throat, reminding him of his first encounter with the wolves.

“No,” Brett cried achingly, not wanting to kill the alpha, but he equipped his sword nonetheless. “Please, Warg. Don’t make me do this,” he groaned as he struggled to keep the wolf’s fangs away from his neck.

Suddenly, Warg stopped attacking. It remained frozen, straddling Brett’s chest. Then the wolf turned its head and its red eyes settled on the ichor void that loomed over the river. As Brett tried to catch his breath, Warg stayed perched on him for another few seconds before jumping off and racing south.

2

Rather than chasing after the alpha, Brett walked toward the northern rip, stunned. He gazed up at the world that existed between the realms and suddenly believed that Warg’s changes were happening because of the Wendigo.

“Master, have I offended you?” he asked hesitantly.

No answer.

A chill ran through his body. Brett remained there for another minute, hoping a response would come. He rubbed his hand against his neck and face, relieved he wasn’t bleeding. Still, the encounter with Warg could have been fatal.

“This is why I have to be extra diligent,” he told himself, not wanting to take any chances now that his life was perfect.

He turned and began walking south. Warg was long gone. Brett decided that the next time he saw the wolf, he’d have to kill it.

Even if it displeases the Wendigo, he thought, then muttered under his breath, “Fuck him.” He glanced fearfully over his shoulder at the glitch. Nothing about it had changed. The beast hadn’t heard him. Brett exhaled and continued toward the village from the eastern side of the river. When he was directly across from the settlement, he stopped, scanned through the gushing waters of the river, and found them.

“So, you survived, you fuckers,” he said. They were gathered around the fire pit where he had tortured and killed the circus freaks. He spotted the veterans. Zack was in the middle of the group while Jordan was lounging between two women, a Grimalkin with dreadlocks and another with red hair.

“Typical,” Brett hissed.

He watched them for a few more minutes, then decided he had seen all there was to see. They had survived the tower and holed up in the village. As he headed back to the A-frame, he searched for Warg, but didn’t spot him in the indigo landscape.

3

Warg lay under a fallen tree. His human master stood sixty feet away, staring at the village. Like many of the entities that inhabited the realms, the alpha wolf was in the middle of a metamorphosis. And as such, the wolf was at war with itself, conflicted by two states of being.

Warg chewed anxiously on his hind legs, breaking through his hide, and bleeding onto the damp underbrush. The wolf had never experienced an infant stage, entering the world fully grown. With his pack, Warg had roamed great distances within the earth realm and had fed off the respawning creatures.

Then the spawning had stopped and food had become scarcer. The pack had killed and eaten many humans after that, mostly NPCs that had wandered too far from the village. Eventually, they’d come upon Brett and formed a link—something that was both primitive in its driving force, and elemental to the wolves.

That had been the beginning of a new phase of existence, and the animals innately understood it. The man had become the true alpha of the group.

Then new signals had invaded Warg’s brain, launching a war within the wolf’s mind. It was a tormenting, unnatural state of conflicting impulses. One to hold true to the alpha. Another stronger impulse pulling Warg away from the human and toward a transformation the wolf didn’t understand.

As Warg switched from his legs and started clawing at his ears, the torment continued. He whined quietly as he spied the man, who was still the pack leader… for now. The man turned away from the village and walked back toward their home. Warg skulked out from under the rotting wood and followed the man, spilling dime-sized drops of blood from his ruptured ears.