Among The Wolves

Wound

Alpha M’est’r was bound on the back of the truck bed. Rope that was coiled around his neck kept his face flesh with the rough, dirty metal. He was on his knees with his hands chained behind his back. Yet he had not gone without a fight, blood still seeped from a nasty gash on his brow. One of his arms appeared dislocated, and there were many lashes on his legs as well as back. Little remained of the shirt he was wearing.  Knowing this wolfblood, however, I knew he still had a fighting spirit. If he was not de-wolfed, all of us would be mercilessly ripped to shreds.

The other two Alphas were in a similar predicament.

I looked once more at the syringe in my hand, how was ever going to get this cure to him? Not only was the truck surrounded by hundreds of people but also there were guards on the bed themselves. Each Alpha had more than one lethal gun pointed to the back of their skull.

Nevertheless, I was not going to go without trying.

Using my small frame I began to push my way through the bustling bodies. No one wanted to give up their spot in the front, everyone wanted to ogle the fearsome Alpha that they heard about since childhood. Comments flew about his large frame bulging muscles and thick bones. Some fancied poking him with a stick to see if he would react and put on a show for them.

The persistence of the crowd had me getting down to weave through their legs. From where I crouched, I could see glimpses of the tires. They were a good fifteen or so meters away.

A horn blasted above us, the high sound held out long and hard. The crowd began to cheer and I knew exactly what was going on.

Joinervetti was coming.

And no doubt to enact execution.

Sweat beaded my brow, and my heart pulsed. Fear had me quivering and even though I had made a frequent practice of shifting in the last twenty-four hours I could feel the hum in my veins. Steroids would not nearly have matched how I felt at this moment.

I set forward to get closer to the truck when a chant broke out. “King Alpha! King Alpha! King Alpha!”

With my breaths coming in short I pushed the legs out of my way. Some annoyed attender side kicked my helmet but I kept going.

Just a few people away from the edge I stood straight.

And there he was. The man / wolfblood himself. Standing tall and just as I had seen on the magazine cover. Only, instead of a proper suit he was garbed with weapons and armor. The polished metal glinted in the hazy light. It had greaves going down his calves and a layered sabaton covering his large feet. The point of it was welded with spikes. If he were to kick anyone… I shuddered at the damage it would inflict.

Two large tassets hung from his hips and nearly covered his knees. They both matched in design, black outlined with yellow. In the center was that tell-tale distinctive symbol of a curved sword and a rod crossing each other. Around it was a leaf wreath with six consecutive lily flowers attached to it. Consequently, it reminded me of the time that I was in the cell being interviewed by Alpha M’est’r himself, how times have changed.

The couter on his elbows were also armed with spikes, shiny sharp points that would pierce flesh like skimpy rubber balloons. Even though Joinervetti had no helm he had a gorget that reflected everything upwards like a mirror.

Strapped to his side was a hefty sheath. The hilt of the sword glinted just as brightly as the armor did but what peeked my curiosity was the pommel was the face of a snarling wolf.

The Vakusian Prime Minister walked with confidence and pride down the way toward the truck bed. The metal soles clanked loudly on the gravel. Without a moment's hesitation people moved aside for him, providing an ample pathway for him to do his runway walk.