The five werewolves traveling beside Steve were not just companions, they were comrades who had fought, bled, and survived together through countless missions. Each of them had stood by his side in the worst of times, and though their personalities differed, they all shared one thing in common: they believed in Steveâs cause.
They werenât just fighters. They were believers, wolves who dreamed of something more than endless conflict. Like Steve, they found joy in helping others like themselves, werewolves trapped in disastrous situations, enslaved, hunted, or lost. They believed that one day, perhaps, humans and werewolves could coexist without fear or hatred.
So when Steve suggested paying a visit to the Redwing Kingdom, the group didnât hesitate. They were eager, though unease still lingered in their eyes.
âWill it be okay?â one of them asked as they trekked through the forest road, the wind tugging at their cloaks. âWith us being from another pack, it might bring us trouble, right?â
âYeah,â another added. âIâve heard stories, old ones passed down, about wolves from different packs meeting each other. Some say it triggers this... instinct to fight. They might not take kindly to us being there.â
Steve glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile curling at the edge of his mouth. âYou worry too much,â he said lightly.
âBut... there are others, right?â the third spoke up. âThe ones who left our camp to join them. Maybe they can convince the Redwing pack that weâre not enemies.â
Steve didnât answer immediately. He shared their concerns but knew something they didnât. The Redwing packâs Alpha, Jack, wasnât just any werewolf, he was Steveâs brother. Still, Steve had decided not to mention that detail. He didnât want the others to treat him differently or assume their welcome was guaranteed because of family ties. It was better to keep that truth to himself, for now.
As they approached the Redwing Kingdom, the sight before them took their breath away. Towering walls loomed in the distance, grand and ancient, built of solid stone that caught the sunlight like burnished silver.
The walls werenât ordinary, they spoke of strength, history, and purpose.
âI heard this place used to be a kingdom for training knights,â one of the wolves murmured, shading his eyes as he looked up at the massive gates.
âYeah,â another replied. âBefore the Redwing pack took over. Thatâs why they have these huge fortifications, and Iâve heard they still have plenty of knights under their service.â
Steveâs lips curved in quiet acknowledgment. The Redwing Kingdom truly was different. It wasnât just a packâs hideout or a den hidden in the mountains. It was a civilization, one that had somehow managed to blend the human and the supernatural.
Entering through the main gate was surprisingly easy. The Redwing Kingdom was open to the public, bustling with merchants, travelers, and adventurers. For Steve and his group, entry was even simpler. They were registered adventurers themselves, their identification allowing them to complete and report quests across kingdoms.
After stepping through the heavy gates, Steve approached a guard stationed nearby. âExcuse me,â he asked, his voice calm. âCan you tell me where to find the Redwing werewolves?â
His companions stiffened immediately, exchanging worried glances. It was a bold question, too open, too risky. Would the guard even answer?
To their surprise, the armored man didnât hesitate. He smiled faintly and pointed toward the western district. âIf you hear the sound of clanging metal, youâre heading in the right direction,â he said.
The group blinked in disbelief.
âThatâs... it?â one of them whispered as they walked away.
Steve chuckled softly. âLooks like theyâre friendlier than you expected.â
âMaybe,â another said warily. âOr maybe they just donât know weâre werewolves.â
The city unfolded around them as they followed the directions, wide cobblestone streets, crowded markets, children running between stalls. It was strange and comforting all at once. The air buzzed with life.
Then, faintly at first, came the rhythmic clang of metal striking metal.
âThere it is,â Steve said.
As they drew closer, the sound grew louder, hammer meeting steel, a steady beat that echoed like a heartbeat through the district. Then their noses caught it, the distinct scent of their kind. Strong, wild, unmistakable.
They followed the smell until the buildings began to change. Ahead stood a massive forge, a grand furnace that dominated the skyline. Smoke billowed from its chimney, carrying the scent of heated iron. Around it stretched rows of houses built from wood and stone, spiraling down the hill in neat lines. Further beyond, they saw open fields, storage warehouses, and more structures that seemed to form a small community of their own.
It was like a city within a city.
âWow,â one of the wolves breathed. âThis place is enormous. And look, theyâve got restaurants down there! Werewolves sitting outside, drinking, laughing... enjoying themselves!â
Another cleared his throat quickly, trying not to sound too impressed. âYeah, itâs nice, but... itâs not that different from us, is it? They might live in the city, but it looks like theyâre confined to one area. I guess theyâre not as integrated into human society as everyone says.â
The tone of his voice made it sound as if he was trying to convince himself as much as the others.
Steve didnât reply. His eyes were focused on the scene before him. He could see humans and werewolves interacting, trading goods, exchanging words, but there was still a distance between them. Cooperation, yes. But not full unity.
Even so, it was progress. Something worth protecting.
As they stepped forward into the courtyard, a shadow dropped from above. A figure landed in front of them with the thud of heavy boots on stone.
âHold it!â the newcomer barked, his voice sharp and commanding. His eyes glowed a bright, piercing blue as he scanned them carefully. âWhat are you doing here? You smell... strange. Different, but familiar at the same time.â
Steveâs group instinctively took a step back.
âWeâre from another pack!â one of them blurted out quickly.
âAnother pack?â The guardâs expression hardened, claws twitching at his side. âYou mean, â
Before he could finish, a voice called out from behind.
âDonât worry,â it said. âI know them. Theyâre my guests.â
The tension dissolved instantly.
That voice, steady, confident, familiar.
Steve turned toward it, his breath catching for a moment as he saw the figure approaching through the light. Broad shoulders, steady stride, that unmistakable aura of command.
His brother.
Jack.
****
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