What we found in the aftermath of the shopkeeper's basement led us to the Outer Plains. Saul had claimed that the Bull Prosecutors had made the killings. He had crafted the lie so well that it was in every rumor that passed through Black Water. There was irony in where the killers were buried. The same church as my brother. At least the pieces that remained of them.

Winston had said to let the dead rest, but it was hard not to want to kill them all again. Saul painted a horrific image of this cult. People whispered about their misdeeds, that they sacrificed the elderly and children.

Outer Plains, my only memory of the place was when Tom and I were both pups well over thirty years ago. Father was carrying us about the land, then showing us what he said was ours. It all belonged to our clan.

We had set up camp on a small hill overlooking the track road between Black Water and the villages in the area. It was simple, primitive even. The ground was hard, and we had nothing to sleep on besides the dirt and our clothes. Mark had brought more bottles of neck oil than we had prog. Saul kept saying travel light, but I didn't expect this. Mosquitos plagued us at night, along with cuddling snakes and any other creature attracted to our warm bodies and the flame.

Saul had given everyone a task. Mark and lickfinger Richard went to one town while Saul and Tanner went to another. Winston and I were to secure and maintain the camp. It devolved into me watching the road and Winston doing the hunting in his wolf form. I had gotten the muddy end of the stick.

It's only temporary; Saul had said to me when he left two days ago. I sighed, watching the sunset and checking the time on my pocket watch. Sally complained beside me, wagging her tail.

Damn insects.

When Winston returned in the night, I had already started a fire. In his mouth, he held a deer gripped by the neck, which he presented by the flames.

Winston's transformation always looked more painful than it was. Maybe it was because he was the biggest. He fell to the side of the ground. His body turned and twisted, forcing itself back into a smaller frame.

The fire revealed his black hair and the scar on his face. Winston sat naked on a log, his hands reaching for his clothes. He put on his black breeches before going for his shoes.

"Artemis gazes."

"Why did Saul not give us something to do as well?"

"We are doing something. We are watching the camp," Winston said.

"You know what I mean. We could have put a simple marker here and met back up. I should be the one out there looking for these people too." I gripped my fist. "Tom is my brother."

Winston's head lowered and focused on adding tobacco to his cigarette before rolling. His brown eyes periodically shifted towards the fire.

I crossed my legs. "Well, Winston? I figure you know something."

Winston straightened himself up and placed the cigarette in his mouth. Using the flame, he lit it. Winston's head was down. He scratched his leg, and a gray puff lifted into the air.

"I told Saul to let you stay here and watch the camp."

"Why? I am at sea."

"It's best if you stay away from people for now. It's for your own safety."

I stood up, striking the wind in protest. "It's my father's doing right. He told you something before we had left Black Water. I am not some child."

Winston shook his head from left to right.

"Karen, you're not yourself."

"I am myself," I said, feeling for the stump behind me. "Who else could I be?"

Winston released a puff. I sat down, and he threw a bottle of neck oil toward me.

"Bend an elbow," he said.

"I don't want any. Why don't you want me out there searching for my brother? I am a lycan. Aren't you always keen to remind me of that? I can shake off firearms, so no wounds like that can hurt me. I am good, good with my firearms, one of the best."

He sighed. "Karen' Three Gun' Njeri, I heard they call you that on how fast you can fire."

"Then you understand I would be fine."

"You can't shake off rounds of silver. Besides your actions since the General Shop has been irrational. You can't be irrational and be alpha."

"I don't want to be no alpha. You can't will me into something. Besides, Saul is the biggest toad in the puddle."

Winston ignored me. "All the others have been irrational in their own way as well, but you, you must always keep your composure."

"Don't you care about Tom?"

"I do, but that doesn't give me the right to kill everyone I see. If we did that, our kind would be extinct."

"They deserved to die, all of them."

"And how did you know all of them were on the Bull Prosecutor's side?"

"They were there, were they not?"

"Initiates, most of the people that you killed were a bunch of farmers."

"That's not true, Saul and Richard —"

"Most were looking for a way out of their poverty rather than actually looking to hurt anyone."

"How do you know that? Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

"I know because I saw everything when you left to go to the man you stringed along. The people that came to visit them and the state they were in. Out of all those deaths, maybe only one was guilty. The man that had lured them all there with a promise of having a better life."

The words sunk in for a moment. I doubted myself and grabbed the neck oil that was beside my leg. We were quiet for a while until Winston put out his cigarette.

He got up, drawing his knife from his side, and approached the deer. With his knife, he cut into the deer, removing the skin.

"Tom was always a rational person, even in the worst situations. He kept his head-on, and you need to do the same, Karen, at least in his honor."

I put the neck oil toward my mouth and took a sip.

The burning sensation hit my tongue. "Awful."

Winston chuckled. "That's good stuff."

The scanty trees swayed in the distance, and the fire crackled. Mosquitoes buzzed, and although I swatted a few, the buggers kept coming.

I leaned forward to the fire. "I missed the old days, Winston and my brother. If I was still —"

"We all do. Remember when we had our pack name?"

"The Woodland Furs," I replied.

"What a horrible name."

"It was Tanner that came up with it."

"We used to give Saul all kinds of trouble back then, especially Tom."

"Saul had a soft spot for Tom. He would always get away for something crazy or I would have to pay for it."

Winston got up from the deer and brought pieces of meat using a stick. He held it towards the fire. He handed one to me, took the neck oil to himself, and we sat together in silent reflection.

Mark and Richard pulled up to the camp the next day. They dismounted from their horses and made themselves comfortable on the ground. Sally relaxed now she had more company.

"Did you find anything?" I asked.

"We ain't find a thing. I should have gone with Saul," Richard said.

Mark spat.

"So you're saying that Mark and your investigation weren't thorough enough?"

"It was."

"I question that," Winston said. "You're just playing a guessing game of who has the book or not. What if I gave it to my neighbor or planted it on someone else? Not all of them might be a bad egg. Before I make any kill. I listen to their intent."

"Winston, don't crawl his hump," Mark said.

"Well, we asked them questions, only seeking to join. Talk about the things we see. You know, to get them to reveal stuff. We don't have the luxury of time," Richard said.

"You don't give people enough credit. For actual or to survive, people would attach themselves to anything. It doesn't mean that they are guilty."

"It doesn't matter once they join, it means more barking irons aimed at us. Our technique worked before, remember, Winston? Back in the town."

"Those people were confused."

"Anyway, it's difficult without Saul. He knows how to apply the right amount of aggression to get something done."

"Lickfinger," I muttered.

"Shhh," Winston said next to me.

Mark picked up a bottle of neck oil and poured himself and Winston a glass.

"How long do you think we have to wait until Saul and Tanner get back?" I asked.

"I don't know," Richard said.

"Let's play a game of poker till they get back. I got some cards, some prog and neck oil," Mark said.

"I don't feel like it."

"Come on Karen," Winston said.

"Ah, I suppose one game couldn't kill."

"What are we betting on?" Richard asked.

Mark got up from the ground, and his legs were shaking.

"Where are you running to, Mark?" I asked.

"Backdoor Trots."

I glanced at the horses around the makeshift camp and then to the road.

"The most we have here is neck oil. Winner gets it all."

#

We sat around the camp when Saul and Tanner arrived days later. I sipped the brown gargle observing the two. On the back of their horses was prog. The two dismounted and lifted the game off. Tanner's face seemed disturbed. Lickfinger Richard was the first to run towards Saul, helping take the game from him. Mark and Winston lay on the ground, both been in the sun.

"Is there something wrong, Tanner?" I asked as the three approached.

Tanner's head lowered. His book gripped tight in his hand.

"Lily liver," Saul said.

"What do you mean, Saul?" Richard interjected, placing the game down.

Mark and Winston stumbled to their feet, coming to terms with their surroundings. The neck oil fumed off their bodies.

"He was going to let one of those Bull Prosecutors escape," Saul said, planting himself on the ground by the camp. "Even though he shot at us. You can't show sympathy for the enemy."

Richard pushed Tanner on the back a few times. "Are you a traitor, Tanner?" He slapped the book out of Tanner's hand. It fell on the dirt, Lupi Viri.

"You're reading their book," Mark stooped to the ground. His hand reached out to pick it up.

"We should burn that thing," Richard said.

"You can't. It has the answers," Tanner said.

Richard pushed him again. "That's the traitor in you."

Tanner's bird cawed; it swooped down and pecked Richard. Richard growled and smacked it away. He drew his lead pusher.

"That is enough!" Winston shouted. "You're going too far!"

I exhaled. "We shouldn't fight amongst ourselves when we have so many enemies that want us dead. Mark, bring that book here, and you come here, Tanner."

Mark brought the book to me as Tanner walked over, sitting beside me on the ground. I placed my brown gargle down and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You're not a traitor," I said, handing him his book.

"Richard, handle the game," Saul said, walking back to his horse and folding a letter in his hand. "We will have a meeting when I get back."

"Where are you going, Saul?" Richard asked.

"To check our perimeter!" Saul shouted as he rode off

"Strange," Winston muttered, and Tanner's eyes followed Saul as he departed.

Richard pulled out his knife and worked on the game. Mark grabbed a fresh bottle of neck oil and sat beside Winston, who remained standing, watching Richard and the road where Saul had left.

"What answers are in this book, Tanner?" I asked.

"The rank and file of the Bull Prosecutors, their beliefs. How it started and what they seek to achieve." His face lighted up. "This one may be one of the originals. It seems like each book has different information depending on who it is taken from."

I pointed to the pot. "Brown Gargle?"

"No, thanks." Tanner's voice came down to a whisper. "Saul's behavior isn't right, Karen. He is killing people indiscriminately."

I placed a hand on my head.

"It is almost like he is covering something else up. I saw him —"

"You're overthinking this, Tanner. Just bear with everything for now. Saul is only doing what he believes is right."

Tanner's book opened, and he remained silent. When Saul returned, we all had a piece of the game. He sat and spoke about where we would head next and where they were all gathering. By morning, we had left.

How long had the Bull Prosecutors been here, and how far was their reach? These damn werewolf books started this.

I gripped the reins as I rode forward. We were headed towards the church by the small village of Stawford. Saul said they were holding up Bull Prosecutors in a refuge. Saul claimed that these were the last of them.

"Don't you think this is going too far?" Winston asked.

"Too far?" Saul replied, "They are all criminals."

"How are you determining that, Saul!? Some of these people that you have killed had nothing to do with it. Sure, they may join, but that's not enough to kill them. What's the proof?"

"The proof, Winston," Richard chimed in. "It is in that fact of joining that they might be a threat later."

"A threat later? We create that threat right now. Every son, daughter has a family. Hiding behind the badge."

"Winston," Mark responded. His eyes looked out in two different directions as he scratched his chin. "Just let it go. Don't think about it too much."

"I think —"

"Shut up, Tanner!" Richard and Saul shouted in unison.

Winston continued, "Let it go. My gut tells me this whole thing isn't right and I don't know how much more of this I want to endure."

"Weak blood," Saul said.

"You think this is right, Karen?" Winston asked. "You really think this is something Tom would want us to be doing?"

I said nothing but pondered the words. Blood was already on my hand. So much without cause. No, I had a cause. They were all somehow responsible. They were all guilty of murdering him, murdering my brother, and none of them will escape this alive.

My gaze met Winston for a moment as he rode beside me.

"You too, Karen? I thought at least you would have thought differently after all you have seen."

"Winston, just let it go," Mark replied. "We can bend an elbow later and years from now, this would be nothing but a distant memory."

The shape of the village appeared. It was close to the mountains which lay in the back. It would probably be one of the few stops coming out of the mountain. We approached the village. The villagers reacted by hiding in their homes and running in sheer panic. I didn't blame them. The news about the bloodshed that followed in our wake must have already reached them.

We slowed down to a near halt as we entered the middle of the village. There was no one in sight, and it was completely quiet. Too damn quiet. From the small General Store to the makeshift Salon, everything was closed. I bit my lip and drew my hand close to my barking iron, my eyes on Saul for any signal he might give. The others followed suit. Saul's head shifted from right to left. He tasted the foul scent in the air.

Sulfur.

"Ambush!" Saul shouted. He fired the first shot, riding his horse to the side. We followed, shooting at the faintest scent that came to our noses. Following the tracks out of the village, gunfire and smoke blazed from the windows and trees.

We made it out by the skin of one's teeth.

"Ride, ride!" Saul shouted, his hands beating the reins on his horse. "Gee, burn the breeze." We rode out onto the plains. On the left, a church sat atop a hill, and in our way, a few scattered houses.

Behind us, men rode on horses. I took the first shot. The lead rider's horse buckled, and the man flew. His screams drowned out under the hooves that trampled him, and the gunfire shot to avenge him.

A bullet whizzed past my head.

Mark grimaced in pain as he held onto his side.

Richard fired back with his barking iron. "Damn Bull Prosecutors!"

"Silver!" Winston shouted, his horse neighing in complaint.

"To the homestead, we will hold them off there!" Saul roared.

We rode with them behind on our trail. There were at least twenty of them behind us. Tanner dismounted first upon reaching the homestead. He kissed a bullet he wore around his neck.

He drew his Winchester Rifle from off his horse. Tanner fumbled with the ammo before he fired at the distant targets. They were like sitting ducks as one fell after another. He continued firing before crouching behind a wagon.

The men realized their situation, dismounted from their horses, and spread out, shooting a cascade of bullets that ricocheted off the homestead. Some hid in the bush's thicket. Others advanced slowly, and the stupid stood out in the open.

Mark had been bawling the entire time.

Tanner had given us enough time to dismount, keep the horses safe, and gather ammo. I pulled both my barking irons out. They were light in my hand, my Colt's 44 caliber Dragoon Revolvers. Winston held Mark's hand, and Richard checked Mark's wound.

"Hold still," Winston said. "I can't see anything."

"It stings, it stings."

"It's just a flesh wound," Richard said.

"Let's get him into the house," Winston said.

"Don't underestimate silver," Saul said, holding a double-barrel shotgun. "Make sure he is good and then help us out here. Karen, you're with me."

We both rushed to back up Tanner. Finding him uninjured, he had withstood a hail of bullets. They were getting closer, so close I could smell the sulfur on some of their barking irons. Saul fired his shotgun, eviscerating the first man that he had struck. I backed him up. Firing round after round, they ducked or found themselves shot in the head.

We took turns covering each other after pauses, unlike our adversaries. They fired until empty and then reloaded. Their numbers were lessening, and a few even were running. Winston opened the door and came towards my side, his lead pusher in one hand. His head tilted.

This couldn't be all of them. What would they do now?

And I got my answer. Shots came from the next direction behind us. I turned to find myself face to face with them. They were coming at us. Cash in with everything: pitch forks, barking irons, some even empty-handed.

The homestead was being overrun. They tossed flames upon the house.

Headshot! Headshot! Headshot! Headshot! Miss, I missed.

"Get out of the house!" Saul shifted his position to some barrels. He gave covering fire from the new direction.

I coughed as the fire roared and smoke rose to the sky.

Richard and Mark got out. We were forced away from the house as they tossed more flames.

"Scatter the horses, Richard, the rest of you on me and get to the church!" Saul shouted.

I fired and fired until my barking irons hollered click; they were empty. A young man screamed, charging head-on toward me. I barely dodged the edge of a pitchfork. Saul's shotgun rumbled beside me, sending the man flying back. We crept through the fields as the homestead burned. I choked, stopping at moments to cough. The outlines of Saul and the others were the only certainty that they were still beside me.

Turning, I saw smoke rose to the sky, blowing in the wind's direction. The fire took the dead. A butchered, unpleasant smell of roast beef lingered.

The cover was scarce, and before I could reload, I was hand to hand with another assailant. The shot in his arm did not stop the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The man roared, pushing me toward the ground. My hands flapped as I fell, and mud splashed on my back. I struggled to get up. His knees dropped to my chest, squeezing my breast and pinning me down as he sat. I reached for my barking iron, turning it to hit him with the butt. He swatted it away, smirked, and struck my face. The lash blurred my vision while blood poured on my tongue. It was metallic and bitter.

His hands reached for my neck. "Go back to hell, you werewolf sympathizer!"

Behind the man, Winston struck him with a knife to his neck. His body slumped, and the man was off me with a kick. Winston smiled and extended his hand toward me.

Bullets whizzed, and one collided with his head. Winston's body collapsed, not registering what had happened.

"No, no, Winston!" I shouted, my hand reaching for him. Mark rushed to his side.

"Mark, he is dead. We have to move," Richard affirmed.

"Winston, we can't leave him here," Mark said.

Saul had taken me up and dragged me along as we made it to the church. The bastards ran, but we knew it was only a slight reprieve. They would come back to get us from another angle.

We leaped over the wall. Our barking irons were empty, and more of them, through the outlines, was coming in the distance.

"Change!" Saul shouted.

And as we did, a priest appeared. He was startled at first before his demeanor changed.

"Animals!" the priest shouted, his face in disgust and his book clenched tight. He had seen us. He had seen what we truly were.

That was the only word to escape his lips before he bit the ground.