The safe house wasn't exactly what you'd hoped it would be, but you had to admit it was better than the alternative. Thin streams of rain drizzled down from a cracked and rusty ceiling to drip on the cold concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse. There was no way the pack would be able to stay here for long without morale going south, and fast. Without Maker's injection to keep the feral madness from overtaking them, the wolves were a ticking time bomb.
Ahote called you and Tiva into the back office. You'd hoped it would be good news about finding a new place to live, but you were horrified when you found out the truth.
A hunched figure covered in tattered rags shuffled in from the dark. It carried a stench of wrongness, of blood and death. Pitch-black eyes stared out from beneath a ragged hood, each haunted orb set deep within a skull wrapped by stretched, pale skin. It hesitated, then opened its mouth. "Tiva?"
It was Lapu, disfigured and changed in the most terrible ways imaginable. How the boy had lived through the Battle of Haven and come to meet you here was a mystery. One which would be answered momentarily…
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