Somebody screamed. It was a shrill, piercing cry of terror, almost as loud as the whistle of the steam engine venting pressure just as Morgulon climbed out of their wagon at Deva station. Greg winced and Nathan’s horse Bairn danced nervously at the noise. People were running away from them, down the platform. Only the six guards that waited for their group looked comfortingly unruffled at the sight of the giant, limping she-wolf. Their leader saluted Bram, and his men took positions around Morgulon and the mules that carried the baskets the cubs travelled in.

Greg found himself outside the ring of guards, just like the rest of his family, Thoko and her mother, and Lane deLande. On Bram’s question, the leader saluted again and explained: “His lordship’s orders were to protect the werewolves specifically. We can of course do a wider cordon, if you wish.”

“I was only curious as to your orders,” Bram said mildly. “Carry on.”

So they simply hadn’t realised that he was a werewolf, too. Greg wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand it meant that the nervous crowd on the platform didn’t spare him a second glance—but he was a little worried that potential attackers might know more about him.

His father seemed to think similarly.

“Walk with me, Greg,” Bram said, and waved Nathan to walk on Greg’s other side. Thoko followed with Imani behind them. They were both armed, too. Andrew had used the past few days to teach Thoko how to use a pistol.

Nothing happened, though. Not to Greg, at least. Morgulon’s appearance in the city in her wolf form nearly caused a mass panic, and their entourage ended up blowing their whistles for reinforcements from the city watch.

Maybe they should have waited for the moon to wane again. But David had pushed for them to come here as soon as Morgulon could make the journey.

So here they were, on the day before full moon. Seven werewolves in the heart of a city that was not ready for them.

A couple of servants had quit when they had heard about Greg’s arrival. Imani had managed to bring in replacements from Courtenay, but it still hurt. Clara, the cook, had known him nearly all his life.

Mr. Higgins showed up soon after they arrived at the house, greeting everyone excitedly and eager to see the cubs. This close to full moon, even Greg’s two daughters were little wolves, so he didn’t have to explain how he had found himself a father.

Morgulon grumbled a bit about it, but let Greg show the litter to his tutor.

“Professor Audenne would give his left arm to see this, I’m sure. Has he…?”

“Not yet.”

He’d surely show up one of these days. It would be easy now. The railway line to Mannin had started service, even though the bridge across the Savre was nowhere near finished. Trains had to stop at the river camps and wares had to be unloaded, cross the river via oxen carts, and then be loaded onto a different train. It was still much faster than going by boat or mail coach. Even though the river could only be crossed in daylight and if it rained, it was essential to have a werewolf on guard lest the drivers steer their carts over the railings. But still—what had been a two weeks journey on the fastest mail coach going from Deva to Mannin was now a two days trip. Three for the heavier freights.

And the lines advanced further every day, supported by the growing numbers of safe, stable, tame, good, official werewolves.

“Would you like to go into the city tonight?” Mr. Higgins interrupted Greg’s train of thought. “There’s a new play up at the Royal Theatre—the Imperial already renamed themselves, not sure if you heard?”

“No, I—I hadn’t heard.”

Sun, he wanted to go. Especially since it was the first night of full moon and he needed to stay up anyway.

“I don’t know if…” he trailed off. “I’ll have to see what David says,” he said. “If it’s okay that I go. Tonight.”

Where was David anyway? What could be more important than welcoming his family in the city?

Was it dinner time yet? Could he get some food?

“I see,” Mr. Higgins said, slowly. “Perhaps you would like to tell me what has occurred since we last spoke? Or would you prefer to hear some gossip from Deva?”

“Gossip,” Greg said, relieved. “Or, do you get journals? From Professor Audenne? The other researchers?”

“I do, I do. Come on!” Mr. Higgins led the way to the little pavilion in the garden, where they used to have lessons, back before—back before everything. It was familiar, and the servants didn’t stare at him like a circus attraction. Thoko brought a tray of snacks, just as Mr. Higgins launched into a summary of the statistics that had been done and the methods used by the researchers.

It helped. It helped far more than Greg had expected, to dive deep into the maths behind the neat percentages David had already told him about. The wolf didn’t understand a word of it, hell, his brothers probably wouldn’t understand much, either. But it was a purely human thing, and it seemed to—to bore the growling thing in the back of his head, until it shut up and—the best way Greg could explain it was that it went to sleep. It didn’t go away, but it was no longer right there, right underneath his skin, fighting to break out.

Greg never noticed when David came in, but when he reached out absent-mindedly and found the tray of food empty, his brother pushed away from where he had leaned against a wall.

“I’ll find you something more,” he promised, and walked out again.

Greg blinked after him. “What? How long—?”

“Not long,” Thoko replied.

“About twenty minutes,” Mr. Higgins added. “He waved at me to continue. You really didn’t notice?”

Greg nodded. David was back quickly, with what looked like dinner. It was still long enough for the beast to stir restlessly.

“Hello Greg,” David started, but Greg interrupted him: “Can I go into the city? Tonight? See a play with Mr. Higgins?”

“Can I come too?” Thoko asked.

David paused, looking back and forth between them. Not long. And then he nodded, and Greg felt tears of relief fill his eyes. He quickly grabbed some of the bread his brother had brought out, surprised by his own reaction.

Sun, how he hated full moon.

“Mind if I go with you?” David asked.

“That a requirement?”

“Nope. Desmerais gave his okay for you to go wherever you want in the city. Except for tomorrow night, of course.”

Greg wasn’t sure he believed that. And it was probably stupid for him to go without one of his brothers. “You’d really let me go alone?”

David shrugged. “I thought you were going to go with Mr. Higgins. And yes. I’m not going to saddle you with my presence if you don’t want me to come.”

“Have you heard from Gustave?” Mr. Higgins asked. “Maybe he would like to go, too?”

A shudder ran down Greg’s spine. “No, I—there’s letters, but I didn’t look if he wrote back to me.”

There were stacks of mail on the decorative buffet in the hallway, sorted by recipients. Greg had seen his mother whisk away the biggest one right after they had arrived. What if Gustave hadn’t answered him? Or if he had, only to write he didn’t want to hear from him anymore?

“Well, why don’t you?” Mr. Higgins suggested. He looked excited at the idea.

“Have you been in contact?”

“Not much, unfortunately. Gustave’s family dragged him south. I don’t know what happened then, but he and his mother came back. You know Gustave’s grandparents, right? It must have been a big fight.”

One hell of a fight, indeed. And Greg still wasn’t sure if he wanted to look at the letters right now. Might be smarter to do it on new moon.

“They came back,” Mr. Higgins said gently. “Don’t you think that means something?”

It certainly meant they were loyal to Loegrion. Not necessarily that Gustave wanted a werewolf for a friend.

“I did see a letter for you with the deBire’s crest when I sorted the mail,” David said quietly. “But you don’t have to look at it tonight. It’ll keep for another night or three.”

Greg nodded, uncertain. He didn’t want to keep Gustave waiting another three days. Not if he was still willing to talk.

But if he wasn’t…

He reached for more food. There were slices of roast—not as nice as Clara used to make it. But the cook had left because of him. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did. And Gustave running away from him would hurt even worse.

But it would hurt just as bad three days from now. At least tonight there’d be a new play to distract him a little.

“Can I see the letter?”

“Sure, I’ll get it.”

David went. A minute later, Nathan took his place.

“I hear you’re going out tonight. You set on that theatre thing? How about we hit a pub instead?”

“I hear it’s a very good play,” Mr. Higgins said before Greg could open his mouth.

“I’m sure it is. But it’s almost full moon, so Greg won’t get drunk no matter what we give him.”

“You can get drunk every other night.”

“No, no, no, Mr. Higgins, please, you’ve never seen a werewolf drink on full moon night. Damn it, we should have asked if Remy wants to come. Or Pierre. I bet the old man can put them away, too. We could fleece the punters out of their last penny, taking bets.”

“You could come with us,” Thoko pointed out. “To the theatre, I mean. Go out drinking afterwards. The moon won’t set until, what, five am? Plenty of time to do both.”

“Eh. What sort of play?”

Greg let the discussion wash over him while he plundered the tray of food. The roast was fine. Nathan helped himself, too, and waved at Thoko and Mr. Higgins to do the same.

It wasn’t quite as comfortable as the dining room, but it was relaxed. Easy. Right until David returned with a whole stack of letters.

“You said there was one!” Greg groaned. “Not half a dozen!”

"These are mostly old,” David said, as if that made anything better. “From right after you were bitten, I mean. I don’t even remember what Dad told people where you had run off to.”

“Railway,” Nathan said promptly, mouth full.

“But they’re all from Gustave?” Greg grabbed the letters when David held them out. They were all from Gustave.

Damn it, he should have written more. That one letter he had sent before his second trip into the mountains seemed terribly insufficient at the sight of the stacks of envelopes.

“You never said,” Greg complained. “I had no idea…”

That these letters had been waiting for him for almost two years.

He flipped the stack over and ripped open the letter that was now on top. Hopefully, it would be the oldest one.

“Dear Gregory,” it started.

“You’re a bloody fool, I hope you know that? Weren’t the werewolves dangerous enough for you? What did you have to go and join the railway for?

At least tell me it’s not the Lackland company.

But of course it is, isn’t it? You wouldn’t settle for half measures. Look, if you’re trying that you’re madder still than the rest of your family, why didn’t you just join a crusade? There’s more glory to be had in the sands abroad than in the forests of Loegrion, and I’m sure it’s less dangerous to face the Heathens than to play hide and seek with the Rot. The Rot appears to be superior at seek.”

Greg skipped over the letter. It was nearly two pages of Gustave’s sharp tongue berating him for joining the railway, but it ended with the words: “Be safe, Greg. And come back soon. Grammar lessons are boring without you.”

The next letter started much the same, but then switched to all the high society gossip Greg had missed. In fact, the next three letters were like that, dated always about a month apart: gossip, the results of the horse races they would have gone to together, the plot of a new book that had come out while Greg had been stuck somewhere deep in the forests around Sheaf.

The fifth one was very short:

If you are still alive, please let me know.

I’ll be praying for your answer.

Be safe.

Then there had been nothing for a long time, and finally the sixth letter. Greg stared at the date in the corner. Gustave had sent one more after Greg had written to him.

It was hard to make himself read the letter, and for once, full moon had nothing to do with that. The wolf was quiet. The words meant nothing to the monster in his head, and if it feared rejection, then not one that came in ink.

“Dear Gregory,” it started.

“So the worst did happen. Except that it isn’t really the worst, because you’re still alive. And able to write. So I guess you’ll be able to read this, too.

I really don’t know what to say.

I guess I’m glad you told me. Took you long enough though. I thought you were dead for a while! Your family kept telling me there was no news, and then they just all up and vanished.

And then there were the weirdest rumours going around about them. I suppose I should have put it together when I heard that your family stopped hunting. After that fight at the palace.

Were you there? Did you fight the Inquisitor on the solstice? Or at Oldstone Castle?

I guess we won’t see each other for a while.

Unless that rumour is true, that Eoforwic is full of werewolves now? I’m not going to lie, I don’t want to go and check for myself. Keep writing, though?

Best wishes,

Gustave”

Greg crumpled the letter with his grip. It was an effort to let go. He knew just as much as before reading this.

“Bad news?” Nathan asked.

“No idea.” Greg handed the paper over.

“Huh. Well, that is sort of unhelpful. Especially since you didn’t get around to answer him, I take it?”

“Was sort of hard to find a post office in the Argentum Formation.”

“Lazy,” Nathan replied. “But whatever. Let’s just swing by his house, see if he’ll come out or not.”

“You’re going with them?” David interrupted.

“Aren’t you?”

“I won’t mind,” Greg said quickly, because something complicated passed over David’s face.

His oldest brother smiled ruefully at that. “Change of plans, sorry. Lane needs to check on her own people,” he said. “So I guess I’ll throw on a suit and escort her there. We might go to the theatre, too, but it may be more prudent if we don’t meet up until after. I don’t know what sort of busybodies Lane and I might attract.”

“How about Andrew?” Greg asked. “Or is he staying to guard Morgulon? ”

“Andrew went up to his room with his own stack of letters,” David said. “You’ll have to ask him if he wants to come.”

“But it’s really okay if I go? Do we have guards on Morgulon?”

“Dad’ll stay to look after Morgulon, get her down into the cellar safely.” David smiled reassuringly. “Take the night off, Greg, catch a show. We’ll see about everything else once the moon wanes.”