Slade walked with them to the edge of the junkyard.
The enormous Bernese stood watching while Bran adjusted the small satchel Finch had insisted they bring.
"You know the route best," Slade told him.
Bran nodded.
"I remember most of it."
"Most?"
"I haven't been there in months."
"Comforting."
Bran rolled his eyes.
Nick stretched dramatically beside them.
"Don't worry, boss. If danger appears, I'll heroically throw Finch at it."
"I will kill you."
"See? Teamwork."
Finch looked exhausted already.
Slade laughed before turning serious.
"Three days."
The joking immediately stopped.
"If you're not back by then, I'll assume something happened."
Bran swallowed.
The fact that Slade even considered that possibility made the mission suddenly feel much more real.
"We'll be careful."
"You better."
The Bernese stepped forward and briefly touched noses with Bran.
A simple gesture.
But one that still made Bran's ears warm.
Nick immediately pointed.
"I saw that."
Finch slapped the Great Dane across the back of the head.
"Move."
And with that, the scouting party headed southwest.
The first day passed without incident.
Fields gave way to rolling hills.
Hills became stretches of woodland.
The further they traveled from town, the quieter everything became.
Bran found himself relaxing.
No humans.
No fences.
No livestock.
Just open country.
Nick, unfortunately, remained incapable of being quiet for more than thirty seconds.
"So if wolves catch us," he asked while walking beside Bran, "what's the protocol?"
"There isn't a protocol."
"There should be."
Finch snorted.
"The protocol is don't get caught."
"That feels poorly organized."
"That's because you're an idiot."
"Valid criticism."
Bran found himself smiling despite everything.
The journey felt strangely easy.
Comfortable.
For the first time, he understood why wandering dogs sometimes spent weeks on the road.
The world felt enormous out here.
By the second day, the terrain began looking familiar.
Bran recognized old landmarks.
A split oak tree.
A rocky ridge.
The remains of a collapsed fence line.
His confidence grew with every mile.
"We're close."
Nick perked up.
"Actually close or Bran close?"
"What does that mean?"
"The last three times you said close it took two hours."
Finch nodded.
"Fair question."
Bran ignored both of them.
"We'll reach the valley today."
And for once, he was right.
The first glimpse took all three dogs by surprise.
They emerged from a line of trees overlooking a broad valley.
For several moments nobody spoke.
"Wow," Nick breathed.
Bran felt a surge of vindication.
"I told you."
Below them stretched hundreds of acres of territory.
Open meadows.
Scattered forests.
Gentle hills.
A winding stream that glittered silver beneath the afternoon sun.
Deer trails crisscrossed the grasslands.
Rabbits darted between patches of brush.
Birds circled overhead.
Finch stared.
"This place is incredible."
Bran's tail wagged.
Even Nick seemed genuinely impressed.
"No rusted cars."
"No collapsing scrap towers."
"No tetanus."
Finch blinked.
"Is that your standard for paradise?"
"Absolutely."
They descended into the valley.
The further they explored, the better it became.
The stream ran clear and cold.
Several abandoned structures stood near the western edge of the valley.
Old farm buildings.
Weathered but sturdy.
One large barn still had most of its roof intact.
Another structure looked easily repairable.
Bran stepped inside one of them.
Dry ground.
Protection from storms.
Space for dozens of dogs.
Maybe more.
His heart started racing.
This could work.
This could actually work.
Nick was already running circles around the clearing.
"We're rich!"
"We're not rich."
"We're territory rich."
Finch slowly surveyed the area.
"Water."
"Food."
"Shelter."
"Good visibility."
Bran nodded.
"And only one major problem."
The three of them fell silent.
Wolves.
They had seen signs all afternoon.
Tracks.
Old scent markings.
A partially eaten deer carcass.
Evidence was everywhere.
But they hadn't actually seen any wolves.
Which somehow felt worse.
The sun was beginning to set when Finch stopped walking.
"Wait."
Bran immediately froze.
Nick stopped too.
"What?"
Finch's ears rotated forward.
His expression hardened.
The shepherd mix slowly scanned the tree line.
Then Bran smelled it.
Wolf.
Fresh.
Very fresh.
His stomach dropped.
"Guys..."
Nick's playful attitude vanished instantly.
The Great Dane's posture changed.
Alert.
Ready.
Watching.
Silence settled over the valley.
The birds had stopped singing.
The wind seemed quieter.
Everything felt wrong.
Then a voice spoke from the trees.
"Interesting."
Bran nearly jumped.
The voice was calm.
Deep.
Confident.
Another voice answered from somewhere behind them.
"Three dogs."
A third voice.
To their left.
"A collie."
Nick muttered a word under his breath.
Finch slowly turned in place.
More wolves emerged.
Not charging.
Not threatening.
Simply appearing.
Gray shapes stepping from shadows.
One.
Three.
Five.
Eight.
Bran lost count.
His pulse hammered.
The wolves were larger than most dogs.
Lean.
Powerful.
Silent.
They moved with the confidence of animals completely at home here.
Which, of course, they were.
A massive gray wolf stepped forward.
Clearly the leader.
Golden eyes studied the three scouts.
"You've come a long way."
Nobody answered.
The wolf seemed amused.
"I'll give you credit."
His gaze moved across the valley.
"You found a beautiful place."
Nick swallowed.
"Funny story about that."
"Nick," Finch hissed.
The wolf's ears twitched.
Then he smiled slightly.
Not friendly.
Not hostile.
Something in between.
"You're scouting."
Bran felt his stomach sink.
The wolf had figured it out immediately.
"We can explain—"
"I know exactly why you're here."
The leader looked toward the abandoned buildings.
Then back to them.
"You're not the first dogs to think this valley looks appealing."
Silence.
The wolves continued emerging from every direction.
More than Bran had expected.
Far more.
There was no clear escape route anymore.
Not without a fight.
And even Nick looked like he understood how badly that would end.
The leader finally stopped a few yards away.
Close enough now that Bran could see old scars beneath his fur.
"You entered our territory."
His voice remained calm.
Controlled.
Which somehow felt more dangerous than anger.
"And now we're going to have a conversation."
Bran's ears lowered slightly.
The wolves around them tightened the circle.
Not attacking.
Not yet.
Just ensuring the dogs stayed exactly where they were.
Nick glanced sideways.
"Anyone else getting a really bad feeling?"
"Yes," Bran said.
"Absolutely," Finch agreed.
The wolf leader smiled again.
This time it showed teeth.
"Good."
The circle closed completely around them.
And for the first time since leaving the junkyard, Bran realized there was a very real possibility they might not make it home by the end of the third day.
*********
The wolves didn't move.
They didn't need to.
The ring around Bran, Nick, and Finch was so complete that every direction looked the same—gray fur, amber eyes, and patient silence.
Scavca waited.
He wasn't rushing them.
That somehow made everything worse.
Bran cleared his throat.
"...You said you wanted to talk."
"I did."
"So..."
"So talk."
Bran exchanged a quick glance with Finch.
Nick looked like he wanted to say something.
Finch gave him a warning stare that somehow translated perfectly into please don't.
Bran took a careful breath.
"We didn't know this valley belonged to anyone."
Scavca tilted an ear.
"I believe you."
Bran blinked.
"You... do?"
"Of course."
The wolf's expression remained unreadable.
"You wouldn't have walked straight through the center of our territory if you knew."
A few wolves behind him gave quiet, amused snorts.
Bran felt his ears burn.
"...Fair."
Scavca nodded once.
"So ignorance is established."
Silence settled again.
Bran pressed on.
"We weren't hunting."
"I noticed."
"We weren't trying to steal anything."
"No."
"We only came to look."
"You did."
Bran hesitated.
"...Then could we leave?"
"No."
The answer came so quickly that it almost knocked the wind out of him.
Nick tried next.
"Okay."
"So..."
"We're clearly leaving."
"We've seen your valley."
"We know it's occupied."
"We'll never bother you again."
"No."
Nick frowned.
"That was also very fast."
"It was."
Scavca's voice remained perfectly calm.
"You've now seen our territory."
"So?"
"So now you possess information."
Nick stared.
"...Information."
"The location."
"The condition of the land."
"The number of buildings."
"The stream."
"The game."
"The approaches."
The wolf slowly looked around the valley.
"You've spent hours studying my home."
He looked back at them.
"I cannot simply pretend that doesn't matter."
Nick opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
"...Huh."
Finch finally stepped forward.
"What if we swear not to tell anyone?"
Several wolves actually laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
Scavca's expression never changed.
"You would keep that promise."
Finch blinked.
"I would."
"I believe you."
"...Then why—"
"Because you aren't the problem."
Scavca looked directly at Bran.
"Others would ask."
Bran felt his stomach tighten.
"They'd notice you were gone for two days."
"They'd ask where you traveled."
"They'd ask what you found."
He paused.
"And eventually..."
"They'd come."
No one argued.
Because he wasn't wrong.
Bran thought of Slade.
Of the junkyard.
Of every hungry dog who dreamed about something better.
If Bran returned saying he'd found a valley full of water, shelter, and prey...
They would come.
Every single one.
Bran lowered his head.
"I understand."
Scavca studied him for a long moment.
"I think you do."
Silence returned.
The wind rustled through the grass.
Somewhere nearby, a bird finally dared to sing again.
Nick lifted one paw uncertainly.
"What if..."
He swallowed.
"What if we trade?"
Scavca's ears flicked.
"Trade?"
"We've got..."
Nick looked hopefully toward Bran.
Bran looked helplessly back.
"...Moral support?"
Finch sighed.
"We have access to supplies."
"Metal."
"Tools."
"Medicine."
Scavca considered that.
"My pack has survived here for generations."
"We require none of those."
Bran tried quickly.
"We could help defend the valley."
A ripple of amusement passed through the wolves.
Scavca smiled.
"From whom?"
Bran hesitated.
"...Other dogs?"
"My pack already does that."
Nick cleared his throat.
"I can tell jokes."
Several wolves stared blankly.
Nick nodded.
"...Yeah."
"I heard it."
Finch buried his face behind one paw.
Bran tried one final time.
"Our leader..."
Scavca watched him carefully.
"...Slade."
"He doesn't want conflict."
"If we explain this place is already occupied, he'll respect your borders."
Scavca's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"The Bernese."
Bran froze.
"You know him?"
"I know of him."
The answer surprised all three dogs.
Scavca continued.
"The junkyard ruler."
"The one who united several packs."
"The one who has turned abandoned machines into a settlement."
His golden eyes lingered on Bran.
"He has become... interesting."
Bran wasn't sure whether that was a compliment.
"So then you know—"
"I know enough."
Scavca interrupted gently.
"And my answer remains no."
The words landed like stones.
Every offer.
Every explanation.
Rejected.
Bran's heart sank.
Nick looked unusually subdued.
Finch simply stared at the ground.
Scavca let the silence stretch.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Then...
"...Although."
Every head lifted.
The wolf leader slowly smiled.
This smile was different.
Smaller.
More thoughtful.
"I may have another idea."
Hope flickered in Bran's chest.
"What idea?"
Scavca's smile widened ever so slightly.
"An exchange."
Nick perked up immediately.
"We're listening."
"I imagine you are."
Scavca turned his head toward the wolves surrounding them.
"My pack might accept... something else."
Bran leaned forward.
"What?"
Scavca met his eyes.
"I haven't decided."
Bran frowned.
"...You just said—"
"I said I have an idea."
The wolf's tail gave one slow sweep behind him.
"I did not say I was ready to explain it."
Nick groaned dramatically.
"You're one of those leaders."
Scavca looked almost amused.
"I've been called worse."
He glanced toward the western side of the valley.
"Bring them."
Immediately the wolves moved.
Not roughly.
But with absolute confidence.
The circle shifted into formation.
Half the wolves walked ahead.
Half behind.
The three dogs found themselves gently but unmistakably herded forward.
Bran considered making a run for it.
One glance at the surrounding wolves ended that thought.
They walked in silence.
Across the meadow.
Past the stream.
Beyond the abandoned barns.
Toward the northern end of the valley.
The land gradually became rockier.
Grass gave way to packed earth.
Then to a broad, dusty clearing dominated by a single enormous stone.
It rose from the ground like the broken tooth of some ancient giant.
Weathered.
Cracked.
Towering over everything nearby.
The wolves spread out around it with practiced ease.
Some lay down.
Others climbed onto smaller boulders overlooking the clearing.
A few disappeared into the surrounding trees, no doubt keeping watch.
This wasn't merely a gathering place.
It felt ancient.
Important.
Bran couldn't explain why.
Scavca leaped effortlessly onto the great rock.
From there he overlooked every wolf in the clearing.
And the three captured dogs standing at its center.
The murmuring began immediately.
Low growls.
Soft conversations.
Occasional glances toward Bran, Finch, and Nick.
Nick leaned closer.
"...I don't love this."
"No," Finch whispered.
"I don't either."
Bran watched the wolves speaking among themselves.
Some looked curious.
Others skeptical.
One or two looked openly annoyed that the dogs were still breathing.
Scavca remained silent atop the stone, allowing every voice to be heard.
Waiting.
Listening.
Watching.
Whatever "exchange" he had hinted at...
It clearly wasn't his decision alone.
And as the sun slipped below the hills and long shadows stretched across the dusty clearing, Bran realized that their fate now rested in the judgment of an entire wolf pack.
Not one of them had any idea what price Scavca was preparing to name~
