Among The Wolves

Jacket

The chains used to hold my hands up were raw cut silver so the sharp edges easily slit my tender flesh. All of us, I could see, had blood snaking down our arms. Only ten-some minutes had passed.

Potholes were very abundant and now were body aches. Even though the hip strap was taunt it did not prevent us from jostling around like rag dolls.

With all the emotional trauma going on; I numbed out. I think we all did. We succumbed and accepted our rag doll identities. Saying, feeling, doing, and thinking absolutely nothing.

To only further diminish any desire to contemplate, two of the guards sat in the bed with us. The werewolf from earlier sandwiched between them, its near black eyes scanning back and forth between us. Even if we were able to get ourselves out of the chains we would probably die before we reached the seat belt.

So, I resorted to looking out the open back of the truck. By now I could feel the dull pain in my soul as the treetops of my homeland disappeared on the horizon. The tears that wanted to come did not. My family was doomed. They were counting on me and I… I failed them.

My defeated head sagged, my chin bouncing on my chest. Rag dolls we were until the truck came to a rolling stop about two hours later. I turned my neck to peek out of the truck and saw what appeared to be a large, dirt parking lot. In the distance was a wire wall. It looked similar to the one splitting the border, only this one looked hardier. A few two story towers with large searchlights scattered the distance.

As for the weather. The hot sun had vaporized all the clouds leaving a pale blue blanket across the expansion above our heads. No breeze or wind to add character to  the dead tree I could barely see, way out. Nothing looked inviting or gentle, just bleak.

With a single leap, the werewolf made its way out of the truck. The other two Wos’Theians began undoing our chains and straps.

I looked out of the truck again. If we were out there without chains… a small thought niggled its way to my head. Maybe there will be a chance to escape.
Once the chains were loose I rubbed my wrists. Brushing whatever blood was dry off but also smearing whatever blood was wet.

The man pointed out. "Exit."

I readily complied; seeing that I was the last one to get to leave. I eagerly hopped off the hard, unbearable truck. My socked feet leveled off on some pointy rocks. Oooowwwch. I winced before looking out.

Any thought of escape whizzed out like a candle’s flame when saw a line of eight Wos’Theian soldiers waiting for us. All of them were wearing the same denim blue jumpsuit.

"Single file!"

I snapped my head to the familiar man who's, so far, only occupation was to spit orders. The muscle memory back at the training camp made it easy to get in a perfect line with my comrades. Chest out, head held high, arms to the side, six inches from the person on our left. Although young, we were an experienced bunch when it came to forming lines. Anything else, we would be a tangled monkey mess.

Now, we were parallel with the eight Wos’Theian men in front of us.
With my heart thumping, I glanced back and forth between the men. I hope this isn't the firing squad!

A door opened from the building far out behind the soldiers. A single, tall man (which was not saying much since all the werewolves were neck painfully tall) stepped out and stood on the wooden steps. I could tell by his attire that he was some sort of General, a high ranking officer.

What he wore looked like your average formal tuxedo, instead the buttons started at his left shoulder and slanted down to his right hip. Colorful and glinted stone pins, which I assumed were achievements, were set in a unique but eye pleasing order on the right side of his suit. The Wos’Theion symbol of the claws and and fangs was embroidered on the cuffs of the sleeves and one large on on the bottom left of his suit. His pants were the same Navy blue color with the country's logo embroidered at the ankles.