They were birds when they found the rest of the invading soldiers.

They found robins, and hawks, and owls; they learned their forms; they changed. They dropped the four feet of the lupine for the wings of the bird, and they searched from the skies for the rest of the invading force. Minae would not send only fifteen soldiers to kill twenty-four wolves. There would be more. Somewhere close by, they would find more invaders.

And when they did, they would drop their bird form to take up something more deadly.

On the edge of the forest, in the southwest corner of Thaen, they found their quarry.

Camps of them. Four camps, spread out across the edge of the forest. Not just an invading force — an occupying force.

Min was greatly over-favoring its chances of success.

Each camp held no more than fifteen men, separated from the next by at least a mile. Three miles of camps. At least sixty men.

Seven wolves against sixty men.

Seven wolves who could take any form.

That upped the odds in their favor a bit.

The first camp they focused on was the furthest west and furthest north, beside ocean and forest. The soldiers had camped just inland of a rocky beach.

The wolves planned their attack and waited until nightfall.

The men were all sleeping when it happened. A great crashing, and roaring, and disruption of the tents. Three great bears ripped through the campsite, destroying all in their path. They clawed down screaming soldiers, little men panicking, quaking at the very sight of nature’s true power. Two giant elk stampeded into camp and trampled the men who tried to run, gored the men who, half-asleep, reached for their crossbows. Two wolves came in, adding to the fray.

When the seven animals were done, all the men were dead and the camp was destroyed.

The wolves moved on.

The next camp was attacked with more stealth. Instead of bears and elk, the wolves this time took the form of the smallest of creatures: the spider.

During her time with Enendoa, Thalaea had come to know a certain spider quite intimately. A small, black, hard-carapaced, eight-legged sister of the night. Death-spinner was its name and for good reason. Witches collected the venom of these spiders to make antidotes, for the creatures were incredibly common. Not a summer went by without some outdoorsman being bitten.

There were no Death-spinners this far north but Thalaea taught the other wolves how to take the form. Then three robins flew into the camp, into the tents, where they landed on the edge of a man’s cot, extending their legs so their arthropod friends could crawl off their transport. A moment later the man would shift in his sleep, feeling some phantom fangs prick his foot, and the birds would fly off, to the next tent, their eight-legged passengers clinging to their feet.

They canvassed the camp within half an hour. By morning all the men were dead.

The wolves moved on.

The third camp was ambushed in the same way as the second.

At any other time, Thalaea would have insisted on a fair fight, on honour in warfare. But these men had killed puppies no more than a few weeks old. Their eyes had just opened just in time to see the arrows and spears that killed their family — that killed them. These men had murdered children.

They had murdered children. They had murdered her pack-mates. So far as Thalaea was concerned, the agony of the Death-spinner’s bite was better than what theses soldiers deserved.

This was war, and these men had already broken the rules. The wolves’ response was more than justified.

By the time they reached the fourth camp, she felt the need for a better plan. She insisted they take care of this camp as wolves.

We’ll let one live, she instructed her pack-mates. Let him run back to Heartpin with the news of what happened. Let them know what happens when they murder children.

They rested in the forest during the day, and at night they sneaked up to the camp, slinking through the underbrush, barely making a sound.

Thalaea’s nose told her something was wrong at the edge of the camp. The smell…the smell was off.

She signalled the other wolves to stop, to wait, while she puzzled it out. She looked at the camp. Men on guard, men at the fire, men in the tents….

No. Not men. Boys. This camp was full of new recruits. Only a few older officers.

That was the smell. Boyhood. Adolescence, just after the cusp of puberty. The men in the other camps had smelled of age; they’d had their own kids; they’d had a life. These boys were barely teenagers. Alaev’s age.

Retreat! she called, mentally. She heard some grumbles of protest, but the other six wolves obeyed. She was alpha.

In the forest they regrouped. Flich was upset; he was ready to kill again. Too joyous about it. It would get him hurt.

They were pups, Flich, she growled at him. Puppies. Still adolescent. Most of them probably don’t even know what they’re doing out here, except their fathers or mothers pushed them to join up. You can smell their puppyhood on them — they’re too young to die in warfare.

I thought you didn’t care about honour, he said, sulkily. Before he could flinch she was on him, her teeth on the ruff around his neck, growling at him till he yielded. He whimpered and tried to turn over to show his belly; she gave him one last shake for good measure. Flich stayed down for the rest of the meeting, not making eye contact with Thalaea or any of the other alphas.

It doesn’t matter how angry we are, or how much we want to ditch all the codes. This is one code we don’t break. If we do we are no better than our enemies.

The rest of the wolves murmured agreement, none grudgingly. Good. She was glad she got through to them.

They rested further in the woods that night, resolving to figure out something else for the next night. The boys in the camp weren’t going anywhere yet, that much was sure.

Thalaea spent the day in a tree nearby the camp, in the form of a small bird with exceptional eyesight and fairly good hearing. Some sort of sparrow, native to these lands. She watched the camp all day, planning that night’s action.

At midday an officer rode out on his horse, heading along the forest’s edge towards the other camps. He came back a few hours later, shaking with fear.

Thalaea watched him go into the officer’s tent, where he stayed for a bit. She heard murmurings among the officers, but nothing concrete. The boys in the camp were skittish, as were the horses — no doubt the beasts could smell the wolves, still.

Eventually another officer came out of the tent and went to his own horse; he rode off towards the other camps alone. He came back at nightfall, shaking as much as the first man had.

In her head, Thalaea smiled. Now she knew exactly what they should do. Stretching her wings, she flew off to find her pack.

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