An Interpack Lines bus passed us, running up to for the first run of the day. The driver honked in recognition. I honked back.

The light fog soon cleared as the road wound higher into hills, out of the valley of the Stone River. The rains from last winter had washed away large parts of the road surface and the damage was still unrepaired, but the Moon Goddess was unperturbed, soaking up road imperfections like they weren't there.

Occasionally, through gaps in the thick forest to the left, we could see down the escarpment to the narrow track which had once been the only route to the packs, until all the packs had banded together to build the current road. In the wintertime, sleds were used to carry supplies down into the valley. Great slabs of exotic woods and marble, and countless fine pieces of furniture had been hauled down that narrow track to build the palaces of the Alphas, now in ruins. The first cars had been painstakingly hauled down here on sleds, for use on the closed-off racetracks which the Alphas had had constructed for their own pleasure.

Brian turned on the radio, now that we were out of the valley. It was on his side of the dash, after all. We were close enough to the border that we could get Zirconian radio stations, and so Brian tuned into NCBC One.

"...in some municipalities, water restrictions have been in force for a third month, as dam levels throughout the Arrowhead catchment continue to drop. In some outlying neighbourhoods of Wythaven, water mains are beginning to lose pressure. Mayor Borg has pleaded with all residents to try and achieve the target of 70 litres a day per person. The Lycan Front has criticised the provincial government's handling of the situation, calling it ill-prepared and accusing the Social Democrats of underspending on crucial water infrastructure..."

"That's odd." Brian watched as a refrigerated semitrailer passed us.

"It hasn't rained for some time."

"They've never run out of water like this."

Traffic was very light, and we were making good time. Most of the other vehicles we saw were trucks and private-security vehicles. At some of the access roads to packs we could see pack sentries behind the trees, just metres from the road. Everyone was on high alert.

The bumpy dirt road changed to fresh asphalt as the car passed over the Pine Hollow - Early Orchid Friendship Bridge over the Stone River. The view of the river valley below was spectacular. A large sign, with the complex logo of the OPLU displayed prominently, had the signatures of the Alphas of both packs. Part of the bridge deck had been left empty for the rail line which would eventually be built.

Hopefully. It had been on the cards since the third Congress in 1983.

"We're getting very close to the Early Orchid Pack," Brian braced as we re-transitioned back onto dirt road.

"Should we drop in?" I said on the spur of the moment. "Tell him to look out for Kaden?"

"If it gives you peace of mind," Brian didn't look too interested.

I had been meaning to check up on Kaden, but the only access road to the Salmon Creek pack was quite a detour from our route. The Early Orchid Pack shared a border the Salmon Creek Pack for roughly thirteen miles, and as far as I knew they got along well. Ryder could be a handful to deal with.

We soon reached the access road to the Early Orchid pack. The dashboard clock read a quarter past nine. The long dirt driveway from the main road was well maintained, as I had remembered it from my last visit.

There were a total of eight guards met us at the border checkpoint. Two came forward to meet us, while the others stayed back, observing us.

I rolled down the window. "What is your business here, Alpha?"

"Just to tell Ryder to keep an eye out for his neighbours. A favour for a friend."

"Give us the message and we'll pass it on."

"I would like to tell him personally," I stated.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you in. Alpha Ryder has some very important business to take care of right now."

I feigned a resigned sigh. "Well. We've been talking about consolidating bus routes in the Upper Arrowhead region for a while now, and it would be a shame if we had to cut services..."

The guard talked with each other for a moment, then one of them spoke into a walkie-talkie. There was some back-and-forth. Then the other guard begrudgingly waved us through. "Good luck."

***

I slowed down as we entered the square in front of the expansive pack house. It seemed as if the entire pack had come out for the spectacle.

"I plead guilty."

A wolf was bound by chains in the middle of the square, heavily restrained by pack warriors, his hands restrained by silver cuffs. The cuffs were tarnished, with both his own blood and the blood of countless prisoners before that had walked the same gauntlet. 

Ryder stood over him. His booming voice rang out across the square. "I hereby sentence you to thirty lashes of the cane. The punishment will be served on August the 14th-" 

It was at that moment that he noticed our presence. He didn't seem too pleased to see us.

"What brings you here, Jim?" Alpha Ryder boomed. "I'm just taking care of some unfinished business before I depart for the Congress."

He was dressed immaculately, as usual. I suddenly felt rather self-conscious in my two-day old pink shirt and slightly scuffed Allen-Edmonds. I imagined Brian was feeling much the same way.

I took a breath. "What is going on here?"

"He has insulted the name of his Alpha," he stated, matter-of-factly. "And he has not apologized for it."

"He insulted the name of our Alpha," someone in the audience yelled out, in a tone of voice that suggested he had been personally insulted.

Several other pack members also yelled out various transgressions, over each other.

"I was exercising the right of free speech!" The guy yelled back from his position. The crowd fell into a shocked silence.

"Enough, you insolent runt," Ryder thundered, his face reddening. One of the guards kicked him roughly, causing him to double in pain. He didn't say a word.

"This seems like a minor offence," I remarked.

"I know you do things differently in your pack, Jim." His eyes were ice-cold. "But here, transgressions of any kind are met with the full force of the law."

I resisted the overwhelming urge to repeatedly punch him in the face, looking around. The crowd looked like they were in the mood for some bloodshed.

Ryder turned back to the guards. "There is nothing left for me to say. Take him away."

Their charge struggled valiantly, but the guards began to drag him away nevertheless. He put up one last fight as he passed me, almost bringing the progress of the motley trio to a standstill.

For a moment, his eyes locked with mine. He said nothing, but he didn't need to. There was anger in his eyes, but also resignation, and the anger from an injustice served. Then the guard behind him kicked him, and the brief moment was broken.

I watched, transfixed, as he was led away to the cells, and finally disappeared around a corner behind the pack house.

"Jim? Cat got your tongue?" His voice snapped me back from my reverie. His cold exterior seemed to have somewhat melted since his had last spoken, and I could detect a slight warmth in his voice that hadn't been there just a second . "Come inside. Do make yourselves comfortable."

"I'm sorry. We need to depart immediately. I just came here to tell you to keep an eye on your Salmon Creek neighbours."

He nodded begrudgingly. "I'll make sure to keep a lookout."

Ah... uh... Are you sure you don't want to travel with us?"

"I'll make my own way." he replied. "As you can see, my driver is preparing my car right now." He pointed towards a black Bentley with its boot open, inside the large garage of the pack house. He glanced at the Moon Goddess. "Have a safe journey."

***

"Asswipe," Brian muttered, as we drove away. "Bet he'll die mateless and alone and the only people at his funeral will be the pallbearers. Also, that pack house is a crime against good architecture."

"Maybe it disobeyed him." I pulled onto the main road, into the wake of a semi-trailer. "And he sentenced it to a hundred lashes of the ugly stick."

We followed the semi-trailer as the road continued to climb higher and higher into the mountains, narrowing as we went along. Large boulders that had tumbled down from the sheer cliffs stood on the sides of the road at places, evidence of past rockfalls now cleared. We had to pull over to the side to allow the occasional oncoming car to pass.

Soon the terrain flattened out as we reached the plains, and the thick forest was replaced by sweeping grasslands and occasional thickets of shrubs.

We stopped at a lookout. While Brian disappeared into the bushes, I stepped out of the car and looked out into the valley below. forest covered much of the valley below, punctuated by the occasional cluster of buildings that marked a pack. To the east, the smokestacks of the Special Industrial Zone . The snowcapped peaks stood sentinel on the sides. Almost on the horizon, the barbed wire and grey concrete of the Zirconian border fence glinted in the sun. I could make out the curved silver thread that was the Arrowhead River, snaking its way across the Highlands. There were some new buildings at the Thunder Falls pack.

I thought nothing of it. It was nothing to be alarmed by.