Marked In Flesh

CHAPTER 36

Firesday, Juin 22

Jackson in Wolf form and five Intuits on horseback watched the pickup trucks burn. They had stopped—or exploded—yards away from the simple barricade that the terra indigene and Intuits had set up across the road that led to the Sweetwater settlement and village.

The fire sweeping over the land had begun at the two pickups, which must have carried many containers of gasoline as well as the men who had intended to burn down the Intuit village. Now it rushed toward Endurance, the human-controlled town in the distance.

“Gods above and below,” one man said quietly. “If the wind turns again . . .”

The fire should have raged toward Sweetwater. Instead it had turned with a deliberation that couldn’t be explained as anything but conscious choice and headed for the few human ranches that had been established on the land around Endurance, setting the pastures ablaze before turning toward the houses and stores.

“Supply trucks will charge more if they have to come all the way to Sweetwater,” another man said.

“Assuming there’s still a right-of-way and any trucks can reach us,” the third man said.

Jackson noticed how careful they all were not to look at him as they spoke.

They were right. Supply trucks didn’t want to waste the gasoline to drive to Sweetwater when they could leave most merchandise at a rented storage area in the human town. They were also correct that the right-of-way through the wild country would no longer exist, and there was no certainty that anything would be able to reach them, whether the town burned or not.

Trading post, Jackson thought as his eyes followed the dirt road that ribboned through the burning land. We could build a trading post near the place where our road connects to the paved road that leads to the human town. There is already a gas station and little store at that spot. Even a depot where things could be dropped off for the Intuits and Others would be enough. Earth native trucks would still be allowed to use the roads, even if the Elders completely turned against humans. We could still bring in what we need—if those things still exist.

“Nothing we can do about that fire except let it burn,” the first man said.

A clump of wetness fell on Jackson’s nose. He licked it, then looked up, surprised by the sudden cold.

Snow? Snow? Now? He’d already shed his winter coat. Why was there snow now?

“Shit,” one man muttered. “Didn’t come prepared for this.”

Jackson licked another snowflake off his nose.

One flake. Two. Ten. A thousand.

“We need to get back to the village while we can still find the road,” the second man said. “Jackson?”

One moment he watched the snow follow the path of the fire and lay a blanket over the land. The next moment, he could barely see the men and horses he’d accompanied.

The Hope pup was dressed for summer, and she’d been running toward the stream. If the Wolves got wet, they got wet. Their fur—even a summer coat—would protect them well enough from cold. But Hope . . .

Jackson headed back to Sweetwater, reminding himself to stay on the road since the Intuits would follow him and would end up lost and sick if he had to curl up and wait out the storm.

Then he trotted into bright sunlight and stopped so fast one of the horses almost stepped on him.

“By the gods,” one of the men breathed.

Sunlight. Warmth.

Jackson moved out of the way and shook out his fur before looking back at the wall of snow that was quickly turning into a few fluffy, lazy snowflakes. Then even those stopped falling.

“Maybe we should . . .”

Seeing the men look back, Jackson shifted to human form and wished he had some clothes, not for modesty but for warmth. “Do you have any reason to believe the humans in those trucks are still alive?”

They hesitated, not quite looking at him after the first glance. Then they shook their heads.

“Then stay on this side of the barricade. Stay on the land the Intuits are permitted to use. At least for now.”

“Going to have to deal with those trucks sometime. The remains will have to be returned to their families.”

Jackson caught a scent in the air that made him shiver. He looked at the men who weren’t quite looking at him. How to tell them what his instincts howled? “The wild country begins at the barricade now. It . . . surrounds . . . us. It surrounds that human town.”

“It always did.”

“Not like this.” He watched them pale.

Silence. Then, “No way out?”

“Not for a few days.” Didn’t want to be in this skin, didn’t want to look human.

Jackson shifted back to Wolf. Nothing more he could tell the Intuits anyway. Not yet.

He ran home to find Grace and the Hope pup near the stream with the rest of the pack. The sweet blood seemed dazed until he licked her cheek. Then she threw her arms around him and started crying.

Hope couldn’t hear him, but he said the words anyway. Then he looked at Grace.

she replied.

He licked the Hope pup’s ear since that was all he could reach.

When the Hope pup finally stopped crying, she washed her face in the stream while Jackson rolled in the grass to clean his fur. Then he and Grace led their prophet pup back to the Wolfgard cabin. He went in first and removed the terrible drawings, hiding them in the kitchen area until he could decide what to do with them.

Grace came in next. Together they opened the windows in the bedroom and bathroom and washed the pee smell off the floor as best they could.

Leaving the Hope pup dozing on the porch with the rest of the pack guarding her, Jackson and Grace trotted to the communications cabin at the edge of the settlement. The Hawk who had been answering the phone looked at them with sad eyes as he handed a message to Jackson after the two Wolves shifted to human form.

“Who is it from?” Grace asked.

“Vlad Sanguinati,” Jackson replied. “Simon and the Lakeside pack are all right.”

“Vlad asked about you,” the Hawk said. “I told him the Sweetwater pack was all right too. I’ve been calling the number like you asked me to, but there’s no answer.”

“I already know part of the answer. The Hope pup drew a picture of it.” But he’d been hoping Joe had received the warning in time.

Grace sucked in a breath.

“Phone is working, then not working,” the Hawk said.

“It might be like that for a while.” Nothing he could do right now. Nothing any of them could do right now except wait. “We’ll be at the Wolfgard cabin if any more messages come in.”

Grace waited until they were trotting back to the cabin.

How many packs had received a warning to run, to hide, to flee from the evil humans? How many of the Wolfgard were still out there?

They were safe. For tonight, all the terra indigene in the settlement were safe.