"The rest of you piss off, too," stated Impatient One, sniffing the nurse. Her fangs flashed when another female touched her disrespectfully, but the shaman composed herself. "Wolf hag! You have duties to attend to while the warlord recovers. Abandon the studies until the end of this crisis. Ignacy… Read a book or make some cubs already; Elzada won't stay fertile forever." She grinned, permitting casual talk.
"Says a cubless woman," Ignacy shot back.
"I did my part, male. What's your excuse?" Impatient One laughed. "You have a mate, she has you, there's an abundance of food; what more incentive do you need?"
"Education?"
"They are free to attend Normies' schools." Impatient One waved at him. "At least you think of having cubs. Progress."
Did your part? Janine wondered, leaving the room and clinging closer to the wall to let a Malformed rush a stretcher with the paralyzed Ice Fang past them into the operating room for surgery. Her daughter often embarked on pilgrimages to visit various holy sites where Ravager's grace lingered, forever altering the landscape and consigning the unearned bones of lost Wolfkins to the cleansing flame or fashioning talismans out of them. But bearing cubs? Never. Janine would've known…
Or would I? Anissa lied about the origin of her injury.
Each shaman had undertaken such pilgrimages, taking no food or water as they braved the wilderness and desolation through raging sandstorms, poisonous hazards, and sated their hunger on the deadly wildlife. Alone they traveled, watering the areas where the Tribe bled more than ever with their blood. This was a ritual to placate the fallen spirits. The shamans sang songs, intoning the names of every missing Wolfkin to help the stumbling souls navigate their path to the Great Beyond and rejoice that the Tribe thrived.
A humble and most worthy tradition, and hardly dangerous today. Bases, villages, or entire settlements have sprung up where the battlefields once were, and the sight of a large Wolfkin swooping in to pray and bleed, declining a free stay in a house or food, often puzzled the locals. The Planet's priesthood in the Outer Lands even incorporated similar pilgrimages into their beliefs, creating a tradition of sending gifts to those in need, bridging distant people together.
During the spiritual journeys, the shamans began carrying written mail for those too poor to access the Net, growing more embarrassed but striving to fulfill their duties to the utmost. Predaig once had erupted into uncontrollable glee, summoning her named sisters to listen to a recruit's tale. The Normie told them that the villagers regarded the shamans as heroes, praising them more than even the Ice Fangs for delivering vital medicines and instruments to the farthest reaches and for cleaning the insectoid infestations.
The image of her daughter striking a heroic pose had made Janine chuckle and earned the four females harsh looks from Lacerated One, but back then she didn't care. It was, no, it is still funny!
"Warlord." Thyia's voice ripped her from the dreams. The woman bowed, pressing a paw to her heart. "Sword Saint Macarius petitions for your presence."
"I have nothing to say to that traitor. Carry on, Ally." Janine stormed past the woman, frowning and grinding her fangs.
"Don't worry, Mom!" Ignacy mistook her behavior for brooding and slapped her on the back, receiving a smack from Anissa for familiarity. "Marco is a tough cookie and an expert paws."
"I'll gather enough heads of the Horde's servants to honor his deed with a celebratory pyre," Anissa hissed, closing her natural eye. "Marco enjoys reading those... What are the decadent picture magazines called again?"
"Comics," Janine answered ahead of Ignacy.
"Comics," Anissa said, almost as if she had tasted the word. "Ignacy. Know how to order stuff online? Capital, get Marco the last batch; I'll give you the tokens."
"He lacks eyes, Sis," Ignacy said quietly, shaking from another heavy smack that almost knocked him down. "What was that for?!"
"Because you and Mother are such downers!" Anissa bared her fangs at Janine's intense glare. "Yeah, come on, bring it on, won't prove me wrong! You act as if his life is over!" She tapped at her crimson ocular. "Little Bro got injured. Big fucking deal. Give it time, and he'll see better than any of us. Legs? Meh, I'll beat him into submission until he agrees to get prosthetics! Abyss, soon we will all be laughing and teasing him about this incident!"
"If he survives…" Ignacy never finished the sentence. A kick in the stomach sent him against the wall, and Anissa pinned his neck with the forearm.
Janine placed a paw on Anissa's shoulder, warning her to stop any further violence, and nodded to the surrounding staff to assure them that everything was under control.
"Enough of getting high on despair!" Anissa screamed into Ignacy's ear, her eyes shining yellow and red. "By the Spirits, look around! Yeah, we took a beating." She let go of Ignacy and hugged him. "But know what, brother? The Reclamation Army always prevails! The spirits never give a person a heavier load than she can carry, and who can hope to stand against us when the Blessed Mother herself is our progenitor? We are alive, we exist, and none of us is going anywhere, so stop acting gloomy!"
"Yeah. Yeah," Ignacy said, first with uncertainty, then flashing a genuine smile. "You're right! In a month, Marco will be hopping around on his new legs." He snapped his fingers. "No dilly-dallying; it's best to start researching to help cobble something better than the mass-produced version for him. I already have ideas; he'll love his electric, poison-coated claws, you'll see!"
"Just make sure they won't explode," Anissa asked.
"Ignacy's arm worked fine." Janine wrapped an arm around Ignacy and rubbed his forehead with her knuckles in thanks. "I trust him."
"That's the way! But don't keep your honey cold, or Elzada will never forgive me for inspiring you." Anissa stuck out her tongue and grinned, taking Ignacy's fist to the chin. "I expect at least four cousins before the year's end. Get on to it."
"You haven't even had a single cub yourself!"
"Well, forgive me for being too busy to find a mate amidst wars!" Anissa retorted, rubbing her chin.
"Why are you piling up all the responsibility on me and Elzi, then?"
"Elzi?" Anissa pressed both paws together. "So cute! Does she call you Igni or something?"
"Who knows more about bouncing back after being knocked down than the Wolfkins?" Janine chuckled and hugged both her cubs, lifting them off the floor. "Thank you, Anissa, Ignacy. Assign someone to watch over Kalaisa; it's not right to have no one by her side." She hurled her daughter, and the wolf hag spun elegantly in the air before landing. "Ignacy, you head to Elzada and aid her however you can."
"I'd rather join the pack and find a way to gut Brood Lord," Ignacy said seriously.
"You leave him to me, got it, boy?" Janine jerked her son by the nape. "That war is over for you. I'll collect the bastard's head and give it to Marco after I've punished him for his disobedience. Dismissed!"
There was little left for her to do. The guards refused to let Janine onto the bridge, directing the warlord to rest since Dragena had taken command and Elzada acted as her voice. Disappointed, Janine found Bertruda waiting near the den's door. The Ice Fang had already changed and was dressed in full civilian garb: a white shirt, pants, a yellow sash around her waist, and a flowing, wheat-colored cape. She came alone, bringing neither knights nor Elegance.
"Sword Saint," Janine said. "Either command your pack or rest and recuperate. A battle awaits ahead. There is no need for us to breed further enmity."
"This is precisely why I am here." Bertruda bowed her head and pointed at the door. "May I?" Janine didn't move. "I understand your rage, truly. And offer no apologies, for nothing can erase the guilt and insult done by me and my house. But know this: the Mountaintops will pay for the full restoration of your son. Cloned eyes, legs, everything."
"Would that be nice?" Janine sighed. "Would that be nice to trust you and see you as an ally... as a sister, the way I felt about you when we dueled after defeating Tecno-Queen? To view you as a family, as a kindred soul walking her own way. But that is not to be. Your kind are deal breakers. Liars. Dust-dwellers, barbarians…" She clanked her fangs, angered at the cub's insults. "Is this what you teach your youth about us? It is painful, but it is best to know what you think of us. I will never again trust an Ice Fang."
"Janine, I will speak to the children about their words, but they tried to save…"
"Not tried. Saved. And for that, I will tell tales of their heroism once I am home. But the problem remains." She drew a line in the metal wall, concentrating on scratching the inanimate object, not attacking. "I entrusted my son into the Order's care while my kin died to save yours. Do you seriously expect me to ever believe in the Order again? Sword Saint…" Janine took herself by the head, pressing a palm against an eye, "…at this point, it is no longer a matter of mistrust between the Sword Saints and the Warlords. From where I stand, all your people are traitors." She drew another line, stopping Bertruda from speaking. "As for your offer, I am not a rich person, but if needed, I will sell my body into slavery to help my son. But I would sooner die than accept the Order's help. Your actions are laced with poison, and I've had enough of it."