The camp came back to life with the first rays of sun. The tribe members rose tired but satisfied, though some still didn't understand what had happened. The chief gave out orders, sending part of the tribe on patrols and hunts whilst gathering the others. Hunters, gatherers and children collected their meagre belongings and stood beside him. Olekir mounted Luna and allowed the slowest of the group to mount the other wolves. The journey with such a group was bound to be long and exhausting, but the chief set the pace and didn't slow down until they reached their destination. He led them not by cunning paths but straight across, revealing a direct route unknown to most.
When the tribe arrived at the border with the wasteland, they were shocked; some even retched. It's one thing to hear about it, quite another to see it with your own eyes. The chief and those like him didn't stand about; they immediately began sniffing and searching for the bodies of the strongest creatures. Upon spotting such, they tore them to pieces, chewing thoroughly, allowing nothing but saliva to leave their maws. The less distinguished and more sensible collected congealed blood, which they sucked like lollipops, not forgetting to bring carcasses for inspection.
The wolves under Luna's guidance also began rummaging through and sorting the carcasses. Myroslava, who was already mentoring the first five, easily took some of the newcomers under her wing, whilst Myrolana took charge of Serb and the rest who resembled Sirka. Serb, naturally, was against this and challenged Myrolana; fortunately for her, they began the fight somewhat away from the camp. Yaroslava regarded the newcomers with suspicion and kept her distance, helping the dolls with processing the hides and avoiding Olekir. Because of this, he was left alone with Sirka. She was displeased with this arrangement and tried to go to the others but was stopped.
"Now I want to learn more about you."
"What about me? You already know everything... master."
It was unnatural and difficult for the girl to utter this word. She still considered herself the proud daughter of a chief.
"Oh no. I very much want to learn more about your tribe. Luna wasn't particularly talkative, and your brother is hard to capture and question."
Sirka tilted her head in confusion.
"Luna? You mean her. She's never left the tribe since birth; where could you have met her?"
"That... that doesn't matter. Tell me."
"What exactly? Didn't you know about us from other people? It's just that you reacted so calmly when I came."
"Others?"
These words troubled Olekir: he knew nothing about the Fierce Wolf tribe until now.
"Yes, others. Before each winter, people with a wolf come for several weeks, asking for guides and wolves in exchange for women, men and provisions. My father has been trading with them for many winters."
Olekir immediately understood that the "people with a wolf" were the northern squad. But he'd never heard of such exchanges. He'd seen and heard that the squad occasionally recruited guides who lived somewhere in the mountains or remote villages. He'd even seen a few from afar, but due to the specifics of his work and mental strength, he didn't need their services. Outside of missions, he avoided their company due to their reputation, even worse than that of sorcerers. He'd heard that several duels had even occurred because of them.
But wolves for a wolf rider were a weightier matter. Olekir had noticed a significant difference in attitude that he couldn't explain. Now everything was falling into place. The minority, like him and Luna, built partnerships that required certain efforts. The majority were less caring and more pragmatic, and their wolves had no character whatsoever.
"They should come this winter too, when the sun sets behind the mountain. I've been watching the changes. Ten more days until the sun sets behind the mountain peak. Then people will start preparing wolves and sledges, and in a few days, when the sun sets behind the smaller peak, they should come. And he too..."
Olekir noticed her tender smile that flashed across her face as she quietly murmured these words before it disappeared behind a polite, artificial mask. Looking at her, he felt a certain offence but quickly suppressed this emotion. His thoughts returned to memory. And to his surprise, he recalled expeditions of convicts. These were condemned people who were sent to forced labour in the Northern squad. However, as a scout, he didn't know to which outpost or base they were sent. From her words, it appeared they were supplied to the tribe.
"And what do you do with them?"
"What's there to do with them? First we see if anyone fancies anyone, and distribute them amongst the tribe. That's how father found my mother. And if no one chooses them, we send them to the wolves when the sun leaves the side of the smaller peak, along with the rejected ones. So they can birth a new son or daughter of the wolf."
"Son and daughter of the wolf? Are they strong?"
"Of course! My father is the strongest of the sons of the wolf, and Serb among the daughters of the wolf. And Mama Pale Eye is the eldest in the tribe."
Sirka proudly puffed out her chest and smiled.
"Mama Pale Eye?"
"Father's and Serb's mother."
"I see. She's remarkable if she managed to raise such children."
"Of course. Mama Pale Eye still growls at him and bites when he acts foolishly, if she's not busy teaching her successor. I'm still surprised she didn't appear when you were taking her."
The girl tilted her head in confusion but quickly dismissed foolish thoughts. Olekir was more interested in the mysterious successor; though he had certain suspicions, he began glancing at Serb, who was still fighting with Myrolana. The girls seemed completely lost in the heat of battle for supremacy.
"Oh really? And what's her name?"
"I don't know, she still hasn't had a name, but you call her Luna!"
This made him return to Sirka and tilt his head in confusion.
"Wait, but Luna is a she-wolf."
"So what? Mama Pale Eye is also a she-wolf!"
"Wait, I'm confused. If Mama Pale Eye is a she-wolf, then who's the father?"
"A human, though quite strong. Mama Pale Eye met him when she was young. They wandered together for a long time, but eventually he was seriously wounded and could no longer fight. Then she subdued him, and later, with the new winter, when my father and Serb were already born, he became quite weak, so they ate him."
"How do you know this?"
"Father tells it every winter on the full moon!"
Olekir nodded. This was rather savage but understandable. He'd seen and done much worse things in more developed society. The Fierce Wolf tribe was more honest and open in this regard, unlike the other world. He pondered: human nature wasn't interesting to him at all, but he wasn't going to change it either. At this time, he was only interested in small revenge and creating order as he saw it.
"I understand, so you're a daughter of the wolf with us..."
But he didn't manage to finish.
"No. I'm Chosen by the Wolf. Can't you see?"
"It was hard not to notice, but I didn't think you'd have different names."
"What?"
"Never mind. What exactly does 'Chosen' mean?"
"Just that: I have ears, claws and a tail from the wolf."
"Then the rejected are those who don't have them?"
"Correct. They're like humans; there are quite a lot of them, but they're weak, so they live little and often die. They need to be watched. Once one tried to steal meat; I quickly explained to her where her place was."
She bared her fangs when she smiled but quickly continued.
"I knew you'd take her if you took me; she has a good body. Want me to show you how to use it? I'm certain I taught her well; even auntie was satisfied."
In her story, Sirka imperceptibly approached Olekir, stopped gloomily staring at the ground until she was reminded of her place. Serb, like the onlookers watching the fight, didn't notice at all that Myrolana was playing. And when she got bored, she didn't hesitate for a moment. A fierce, mad howl stopped everyone except the dolls from performing their duties. Serb crawled with her only whole arm and a fierce gaze towards Myrolana, leaving a bloody trail behind her. And she, as if freed from constraints, smiled.
"I hope you understand your place now?"
Serb growled, but it was evident she no longer had the same fervour. She tried to lunge but was quickly thrown back by a single kick. Lifted by her tribesmen, she shamefully bowed her head to Myrolana.
"See? This is what happens to anyone who dares challenge me."
"Strong words. I hope you can truly defend them."
The chief, who had torn himself away from his meal, was now flexing his muscles. Sons and daughters of wolves gathered around, excited by the fight and ready to pounce on Myrolana. But she didn't care.
"Try me then."
The chief had no more words and lunged at her. Irritated, she began fighting somewhat more seriously. Their experience showed: the fight was fierce, and wounds accumulated, though their bodies tried with all their might not to fall first. Sirka was cautious but worried.
"Perhaps you should stop them? My father is quite strong, and if she loses..."
"You're worried about her? She's walked the same path as I have. And though she's weaker than me, she's not so much so as to lose to him."
Olekir gestured for her to watch. Sirka began observing more closely but continued casting worried glances at him. Everything began to change. The first to notice weren't them but the sons and daughters of wolves. Unlike the chosen and rejected, who were still praising their chief, their gazes became serious and anxious. During another clash, the chief overpowered Myrolana. His excitement and the saliva flowing from his mouth were visible. He desired her so strongly that he began losing his composure. When the first drops fell on her face, she lost all restraint. The next moment, two daggers pierced his arm, two more aimed at his neck, and the air filled with numerous threads.
"Myrolana, enough."
Olekir stopped her; he stood before the chief, wrapping the girl in his embrace. She began muttering incoherently, but he gently created a handkerchief and wiped her face, which made her relax. The threads stopped restraining the chief, and he fell to his knees, gasping, but his gaze saw only Myrolana.
"What do you want for her? I'll give it."
"She's mine; this isn't up for discussion."
"I'll give you everything! Do you want my women? Perhaps my daughters? Or maybe every woman in the tribe?! But give her to me, I'll do anything."
This proposal, these words were shocking. No one in the tribe expected them; confused whispers and even fear filled the space around, but Olekir's answer remained unchanged.
"I know you want the tribe! I'll give it to you—everyone in the tribe. Just give her to me. No, not even that: just let me sleep with her! I'll give you everything."
"I said no, and this isn't up for discussion. And if you continue, I'll kill you. Understood?"
With this, Olekir allowed his power to break free. Like water spilled from the heavens, it flowed around, forcing the rejected to fall unconscious and the chosen to fall to their knees, gasping. The sons and daughters of wolves fared better, but it was evident they were doing so with their last strength. Sirka was protected by Yaroslava, who had arrived shortly before the end of the fight. Myroslava also began shielding Olekir's girls, gathering them one by one behind a barrier, allowing them to enjoy the full beauty of their master's magnificence.