Adam kept low to the ground, the rubble of the ruined city hiding his presence as much as his stealth artifacts did. He crouched in the shadows of a broken wall, eyes fixed on the outskirts of the city where the weaker wolves roamed.
These were the underlings of the three great wolves that ruled the city. They were leaner, stronger, and far less disciplined. He watched as they paced along the broken streets, sniffing through rubble, snapping at one another over scraps of food.
The black-furred wolves were the most aggressive. They were quick to bare teeth even among their own. The white-furred wolves moved differently. They were more coordinated, sticking close together in twos and threes, their senses sharper than the rest.
Whereas the grey-furred wolves filled the gaps, neither as feral as the black wolves, nor as disciplined as the white wolves. But they held their numbers, swarming in loose groups that gave them strength through sheer presence.
