The five werewolves traveling beside Steve were not just panions, they were rades 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 mon: they believed in Steve’s cause.
They weren’t 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 didn’t hesitate. They were eager, though unease still lingered in their eyes.
“Will it be okay?” one of them asked as they trekked through the forest road, the wind tugging at their cloaks. “With us being from another pack, it might bring us trouble, right?”
“Yeah,” another added. “I’ve 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.”
Steve glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile curling at the edge of his mouth. “You worry too much,” he said lightly.
“But... there are others, right?” the third spoke up. “The ones who left our camp to join them. Maybe they can convince the Redwing pack that we’re not enemies.”
Steve didn’t answer immediately. He shared their concerns but knew something they didn’t. The Redwing pack’s Alpha, Jack, wasn’t just any werewolf, he was Steve’s brother. Still, Steve had decided not to mention that detail. He didn’t want the others to treat him differently or assume their wele 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 weren’t ordinary, they spoke of strength, history, and purpose.
“I heard this place used to be a kingdom for training knights,” one of the wolves murmured, shading his eyes as he looked up at the massive gates.
“Yeah,” another replied. “Before the Redwing pack took over. That’s why they have these huge fortifications, and I’ve heard they still have plenty of knights under their service.”
Steve’s lips curved in quiet acknowledgment. The Redwing Kingdom truly was different. It wasn’t just a pack’s 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 plete and report quests across kingdoms.
After stepping through the heavy gates, Steve approached a guard stationed nearby. “Excuse me,” he asked, his voice calm. “Can you tell me where to find the Redwing werewolves?”
His panions 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 didn’t hesitate. He smiled faintly and pointed toward the western district. “If you hear the sound of clanging metal, you’re heading in the right direction,” he said.
The group blinked in disbelief.
“That’s... it?” one of them whispered as they walked away.
Steve chuckled softly. “Looks like they’re friendlier than you expected.”
“Maybe,” another said warily. “Or maybe they just don’t know we’re werewolves.”
The city unfolded around them as they followed the directions, wide cobblestone streets, crowded markets, children running between stalls. It was strange and forting all at once. The air buzzed with life.
Then, faintly at first, came the rhythmic clang of metal striking metal.
“There it is,” 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 munity of their own.
It was like a city within a city.
“Wow,” one of the wolves breathed. “This place is enormous. And look, they’ve got restaurants down there! Werewolves sitting outside, drinking, laughing... enjoying themselves!”
Another cleared his throat quickly, trying not to sound too impressed. “Yeah, it’s nice, but... it’s not that different from us, is it? They might live in the city, but it looks like they’re confined to one area. I guess they’re not as integrated into human society as everyone says.”
The tone of his voice made it sound as if he was trying to convince himself as much as the others.
Steve didn’t 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.
“Hold it!” the newer barked, his voice sharp and manding. His eyes glowed a bright, piercing blue as he scanned them carefully. “What are you doing here? You smell... strange. Different, but familiar at the same time.”
Steve’s group instinctively took a step back.
“We’re from another pack!” one of them blurted out quickly.
“Another pack?” The guard’s expression hardened, claws twitching at his side. “You mean, ”
Before he could finish, a voice called out from behind.
“Don’t worry,” it said. “I know them. They’re my guests.”
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 mand.
His brother.
Jack.
****
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