"I said careful!"

"Stop pushing too hard. We're going to end up shaving the corner off something like the last time!"

"What do you mean, I was pushing too hard? I can barely keep up."

"What was that, just then?"

The park bench was, as usual, causing an absolutely disproportionate amount of carnage as it rattled its way slowly past below me, on its way to its new home under a tarp in the crawl space under the pack house. Elsewhere, people were people were toiling away in the shade of the trees, weeding the gardens, mowing the lawns, sorting the trash into recyclables - cardboard, plastic, metal, glass. They would be further sorted when they reached the recycler's in the Industrial Zone.

I was watching all of this from the vantage point of the top of a ladder perched next to the gutter on top of the house. I was pulling rotted leaves and dirt out. A surprising amount had built up since the last time I had been up there. It was all bone-dry, and dust rose up as I prised the debris out.

I looked up at the clear blue sky, framed in the pine branches. It was a good day for this kind of thing. The lake glistening under the sun. Faint birdsong filled the air. The trees rocked and soughed gently in the light breeze.

But when would it rain again?

Cars were parked out in the driveways, being washed, suds flowing down driveways, pooling in the margins of the dusty street. The Moon Goddess was taking pride of centre in the middle of my driveway, hosed down. The Hayabusa stood behind it.

The current nexus of activity appeared to cluster around the final remaining tar-paper shack. A trench had been dug from its side to the water main that fed the pack village from the lake. Pipes were being laid into the trench, a large pile of dirt growing larger on the wayside. Inside, the fittings on the left side of the room had been pulled away, while taps were being installed on top of the sink in the kitchenette.

Suddenly it seemed that every single person in my sightlines froze at the same time, dropping what they were doing. A pall of silence fell over the pack.

The smell was very faint, but it was unmistakable.

There were wolves from another pack nearby, quite close, and clearly not from around here. This could only mean one of two things: friendly visit or invasion.

There was one shrill whistle from the woods. Something was on the border, but it wasn't urgent. At least for the time being.

Everyone seemed to be looking towards me. Some were already making to down tools and head for wherever the noise was coming from.

"There is no need to panic." My voice rang out. "I want everyone to stay put. There's been no indication from border patrol that this is anything serious. I will go to the border and report back."

I climbed down the ladder. All around me, people mostly went back to what they were doing, although quite a few had decided to come along anyway, as well as Brian and Lister.

We walked at a fast pace, keeping an eye out for anything unusual around us. We were almost there when we met a messenger from the border who'd presumably been sent down. He looked like he was in a hurry.

"Jim, there's a small group at the border. They want to talk to you."

"Who? What? Why?"

"They say they're from the Salmon Creek pack and they come in peace. They made a pretty big show about being unarmed."

"What do mean, they came in peace?" someone yelled from behind me.

"I think they're telling the truth," the sentry added. "They looked pretty tired. They sure don't look like they're in the mood for a spot of invading and conquering."

"OK," I took a moment to take in the information. Salmon Creek. Kaden had sent them. Presumably. 

 ***

The sentry was right. As we approached the group, standing next to a neat pile of their belongings on the ground, straddled by border sentries, it was immediately clear that they were not here to attack. They looked more like a bunch of starving vagabonds than a band of fearless warriors here to avenge the will of their leader.

One of them stepped forward. I recognised him from the Congress. He looked like he'd aged ten years from then.

"Dear Alpha, I assure you, we come in peace. Our objective is not to harm you. We're not going to do anything rash." his hair was unkempt and he had what appeared to be a bad case of the caffeine jitters.

Brian, behind me, bit his lip. "Damn. I was looking forward to kicking some Salmon Creek ass." I ignored my pack compatriot. "No need to dear Alpha me. Jim is fine."

"We, uh, have a lot of explaining to do." I could see bags in the poor kid's eyes, which were also bloodshot. His pack compatriots looked similarly tired. "We're officially here to get his, er, mate, or so he thinks-"

"Well you're wasting your time here. She's been gone for a long time. But you know that already, right?"

He nodded, mirthlessly. "Yep. Through the grapevine. But he doesn't."

"What do you mean, he doesn't know?"

"He's convinced himself you lied to him and that you still have her hidden, and he wants to invade your pack. We all know that's not going to happen, and that's where we need you to help us, Alpha. He needs help. He's completely lost it. We've tried telling him, we've tried everything. It isn't working."

A voice piped up from behind me. It was old man Anderson. "What do you mean, you guys deal with him?"

The other pack looked at me as if they were expecting me to shut him up.

"He's gone completely crazy. He won't talk o us or even make eye contact with us. He wants her. Desperately."

He didn't look too impressed my their excuse. "What he needs is a reality check! The wellbeing of the pack should always go first and foremost over one's love life."

"I think he's a bit too far gone for that," Ronan replied flatly. Next to me, Brian shooting daggers at his old man, who continued his rant. "What? There's nothing a good old fashioned talking to won't fix-"

"As I said," Ronan's patience was beginning to strain. "He's completely lost the plot. We've tried talking to him over and over again, but we can't even get him to answer simple questions-""What do you mean, you can't question him? When my alpha strays from the true path-" he stepped forward and put his arm on me- "I hold him accountable to his actions! That is your right as a pack member! You have a right to hold your Alpha responsible for his actions!"

The motley leader of the group seemed equally taken aback and perplexed by this outburst. "That's not our point. "Believe me, we've tried everything under the sun. We've tried telling him the truth It's not like we're scared of him or whatever you think our weakness is! We're at our wits' end! We would try anything to get him out of his state, but nothing we do is working. He's delusional. He won't listen-"

"Then make him listen! Hit him where it hurts! You have rights as members of your pack! Exercise them!"

They looked at him agape, as if he was an alien sent to earth to warn them of the impending apocalypse or something. They seemed genuinely amazed that one could do such things to their unelected leader.

"Did you not hear what I said?" Old Man Anderson looked incredulous. "You have rights. Use them. Bloody Monagh. Grow a backbone." He shook his head, trudging off to the back of the crowd. "Unbelievable." There were a few cheers.

The people of the other pack looked like they'd seen a new colour.

"Never mind him," I mumbled under my breath.

"How serious is the situation?" Lister cut in, getting closer, lowering his voice, trying to stop the throng behind us from eavesdropping, getting our visitors out of their daze. "Give me figures. Numbers."

Ronan looked glum. "He hasn't come out of his room for almost four days now. We've got enough food and cash, but that's not the thing we're worried about. Which is the bounty hunters."

And with that, the atmosphere changed very suddenly in our little circle.

"The bounty hunters?" Lister and I said, almost at the same time.

Bounty hunters from Zirconia had been an intermittent problem in these parts. Enterprising ex-Defence Force guys would sometimes get together and go on a quick romp on our turf to drag someone with an outstanding warrant on their side of the border back to face the music. This had almost entirely ceased to be a problem after three of them were found face down in the Arrowhead, but recently the cops had upped the rewards, and some enterprising meatheads had crunched the numbers and decided that they worked out.

"We're not sure if they're bounty hunters. But we can't think of other reasons for a black truck to be driving near our pack boundaries at night."

I felt a chill run down my spine.

"Were they armed?" Lister was suddenly very interested. "How many were there?"

"We don't know. All we saw was the truck."

I remembered back to the detour Brian and I had done on the way to Congress. "Hang on. Isn't Ryder supposed to keep an eye over you guys? Where's he gone?"

"He's a fat lot of good," Ronan replied. "Forget about him. His head's stuck too far up his own arse."

"Too busy treating his own pack like shit," someone behind him added.

"Do anything. Anything. Come with us to sort things out. Anything." Ronan was pleading. "This can't wait. Something needs to be done now."

I wanted to help them. But the situation right now was tense, and we needed as many hands as possible at home.

"I think your situation is pretty urgent." I declared. "But my pack simply don't believe it's any of their business and I can't make them help you."

"I think we can spare a few people if we try hard." Lister was thinking on his feet. "But yeah. It's not going to be a popular decision with the pack. They're very against this kind of intervention thing. Reckon it's a waste of resources."

"I'll get you in contact with some people I know who can help you," I added.

Ronan took a moment to digest the information, as did his packmates. He looked like he was going to break down but he just shrugged.

I leaned forward. "If you don't think it's safe anymore, my advice is to go into the Industrial Zone and find a cheap place to hole up." They nodded. "You have enough money?"

"Some of the others still have some cash pooled up. It should be enough." He was already thinking ahead.

"Ok. Have a safe trip back." I offered my hand. A handshake seemed almost like an insult. But Ronan took it up without missing a beat. His grip was surprisingly firm. "Thank you anyway." "I wish you way more than luck," I replied.

I watched as they walked away to their truck. They were just years out of childhood, and now they had the whole weight of their pack on their shoulders.