CAINE
The Fiddleback Pack is unusual, settling most of their central pack territory in the middle of a human city.
There are rows of cookie-cutter homes, differentiated only by paint color. Manicured lawns, where even the trees look trained. White fences.
The back of my neck itches, and I resist the urge to scratch at it. "How do your wolves stand this?"
Marsh glances at me from behind the wheel, his expression placid. "Stand what, High Alpha?"
"This." I gesture at the subdivision sprawling around us. "Boxed in like sheep. No room to breathe."
A yard the size of a postage stamp comes into view, a plastic swing set crammed into one corner. The thought of a pup confined to such a space makes Fenris bristle.
"We're used to it." Marsh shrugs, turning down another identical street. "Most of us were born here."
"That's worse."
Fenris growls agreement in my head.
"Why live among humans like this? Most packs claim territory where their wolves can run free."
