An unexpected rage sweeps over you so suddenly that you don't see it coming. What right do these humans have to meddle with the lives and bodies of werewolves? Why are they even experimenting on you in the first place? They're supposed to be here to watch over the pack and protect them if the need arises, not poke and prod at them, even if it's to your benefit!
You lash out at the cabinet's glass door, smashing not only the glowing blue syringes, but a host of other vials, beakers, and jars.
A whooping alarm springs out of a loudspeaker in the corner of the room, its sonorous tone hitting you in the gut like a physical blow. What have I done?
Down the hall outside the metal door, you can hear several sets of boots stomping through the hall in unison, growing closer and closer to your position.
Slipping out of the room before you're cornered with nowhere to run, you drop to all fours and leap down the hallway toward a large window, barreling past a terrified nurse and knocking her to the floor in your haste to escape.
"Hold it right there!" a soldier yells behind you. "I'm authorized to shoot!"
There's nothing for it; you have no choice. Sharp, biting shards of glass shred through your fur as you jump through the window. Time slows to a crawl, and as you tumble out of control amid a tinkling hail of rainbow shimmers, you look up at the astonished faces of the soldiers. Bet they never expected this.
You land with a crash and scramble to your feet, already feeling your cuts and scrapes knitting. The pain in your leg may be a break, but you tough it out, scrambling away through a maze of small military buildings until you collapse in a heap, unable to move another step.
Over the next several minutes, your body heals, and while you still feel a dull ache in your leg, you breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn't broken after all. A broken bone takes even a werewolf significantly longer to heal.
Finally able to concentrate on something other than the pain, you listen for the sounds of pursuit, noting faint yelling far to the west of your position. You've lost them for now, but you should think carefully before making any other rash decisions.
Next
Looking up at the sun, you realize with a start that you're almost late for your rendezvous with your friends at the massive warehouse to the east. Any other areas you hoped to explore will have to wait for subsequent adventures.
The warehouse is situated on the far eastern end of the complex, and while it doesn't eclipse many other buildings in terms of height, it positively dwarfs them in girth. From north to south, the giant building covers the better part of a half mile, its spartan exterior winking dully in the light of the slowly setting sun.
You find your companions right where they're supposed to be, patiently waiting for you to arrive by the southeast corner, hidden among a cluster of rusted barrels whose contents have long since been drained away by the humans' machinery.
Tiva fidgets anxiously while Dena's head swivels left and right as though she expects the group to be discovered at any moment.
"So, one last bit of exploration before we throw in the towel?" Lapu says, nodding toward a small door on the eastern side of the warehouse. "It's way too late to chicken out, guys."
Not that you would; the warehouse is the subject of many and varied tales among the werewolf youth, all of which are exciting and mysterious. Claims of vast wealth, macabre horrors, and experimental weapons are just the tip of the popular speculation iceberg.
The worst part is that the adults have been here and refuse to tell you what's inside. What better reason could there be for a group of wolves on the verge of adulthood to sneak in and have a look? It's time to discuss your plan to get in and explore without getting caught.
A quiet and cautious approach has served me well thus far. I take my time and try not to be seen.
If the adults are allowed in here, I have the right to be here, too. I step in with my head held high.
Breathe deep. Nothing can happen in there that can't be dealt with rationally. Plans have a tendency to fail. I'll adapt as necessary depending on what I encounter.
My chest heaves with excitement. If anything gets in my way, I'll deal with it like a wolf—by tooth and claw.
Next
A pragmatic approach is always the best idea when dealing with a situation you can't possibly control. The best plan is to move with caution but adapt on the fly. You caution the others to keep quiet and low to the ground before heading into the warehouse.
The four of you emerge into a large room, partitioned off from the rest of the building by corrugated metal walls. The room is filled with piles of scrap metal in varying states of disrepair, most of it covered with rust. Not a promising start.
Crouched behind one of the piles, you discover a narrow hallway leading down along the length of the warehouse. Waving the others forward, you travel through the side passage for several minutes before you hear something that sounds disturbingly like a moan of pain.
Tiva elbows you. "Why'd you stop?"
"Listen," you say, and she cocks an ear, grimacing at what she overhears.
"I don't like the sound of it," she says, "but we can't stop now. I need to know what's going on in here."
Dena whimpers from the back as you start moving again. This time, you're more cautious, your movements deliberate while keeping to the pads of your feet.
Eventually the corridor's wall disappears, replaced by a large rectangular opening at chest level, which might once have been a window before the walls of the warehouse were expanded. Crawling underneath the gap, the four of you hear a cacophony of strange and terrible sounds that will haunt your dreams for years to come. If you live that long, that is.
You have to know, and it appears that you're not alone. As one, the four of you slowly raise your eyes to the window.
Next