Minutes later the transport truck grinds to a halt with a screech of engine brakes that assaults your sensitive ears, causing them to ring painfully. The soldiers opposite you rise to their feet, unlocking your restraints as others open the rear door of the truck. Each wolf is lined up single-file and marched out onto a dusty dirt road in the middle of a lightly wooded field. The area is completely surrounded by a barbed wire fence studded with armed sentries.
You sniff the air. The earthy smell of pine is a welcome change, but it isn't enough to cover up the sharp scent of well-oiled machinery and gasoline fumes. Your convoy must have turned off the highway not long ago. You try to shake off thoughts of being lined up and shot here in the middle of nowhere and buried in an unmarked grave. They wouldn't do that, you think to yourself. Why waste all the time to bring us out here just to kill us? You know that your logic is sound, but that doesn't stop the animal inside you from screaming.
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