Werewolves: The Gravediggers pt. 3

This story features Jolon's father, Delsin, and takes place several years before the events of 'Werewolves: Haven Rising.' 

[If you haven't yet read parts 1 and 2, click on the Collections tab and select 'Werewolves' to find the previous installments of this story.]

Delsin leaped down from the armored military transport, all three-hundred plus pounds of his werewolf form landing on the cracked asphalt with a heavy crunch. The man driving the vehicle didn't say a word before reversing into a three-point turn and taking off back toward his side of the divide. That was the way it had been for almost six months now—nobody from that side of the fence wanted anything to do with a wolf tainted by the mark of Colonel Williams. The humans wouldn't admit it, but they were afraid of the man and he couldn't blame them. He knew from discussions with the rest of the pack that the soldiers usually addressed other werewolves with moderate respect, provided they kept their claws to themselves and their language suitably subservient. No such courtesies were extended to Delsin, however. He'd resent it if he didn't loathe them so much.

 The worn white painted line he straddled was a clear demarcation between human and werewolf territory halfway across the so-called 'Q bridge' which spanned the distance from the walled prison of Haven to the outside world. Below him, the frothy waters of New Haven Harbor reached southward to Long Island Sound. Sometimes Delsin spent an unhealthy amount of time staring out over the water, wishing it were possible to simply dive in and swim his way to the other side. He fantasized about it regularly, although he'd never admitted it to anyone but his wife. His wife. She'd be waiting for him back home. He'd already spent far longer on this side of the bridge than planned thanks to the gods-damned rain turning Shahale's relatively simple burial into an ordeal. He wrinkled his nose and watched as the transport vehicle disappeared slowly over the apex of the bridge and began descending toward the base. The asshole could have at least have dropped him a little closer to home after all the overtime he'd put in today.

 "It's for the best," he muttered to himself. The less the humans involved themselves in wolf affairs, the better. He stood alone for a moment, allowing the chill night air to send ripples through his grey fur and cool him down. The rain had stopped about ten minutes ago, but he'd already been soaking wet when he took Jaci in to see Nurse Shaw. The heated offices dried him off somewhat, but the humidity and the resulting stench of 'wet dog' caused the nurse to dismiss him early. He didn't care all that much—to be honest, Nurse Shaw gave him the creeps. Her touch was always freezing cold and her pale white skin gave the impression of a dull glow under just the right light. Plus, she was just about as full of herself as a human could possibly be, and that was saying something.

 That said, she gave out some mighty fine drugs.

 He tore his gaze from the water and turned toward home. Ruins had been all that remained of the former city when the government decided to wall if off and dump his pack here to rot. He'd hoped for better treatment when his group of 'conscientious objectors' surrendered to the humans rather than join in the Werewolf War. He should have known better. Packleader Ahote was always the first to point out that at least they were still alive—the rest of his species had been slaughtered after their last stand, backs up against the shoreline—but in recent days Delsin had begun to wonder whether the wolves who had fought to their last breaths were the lucky ones, spared this hellish purgatory. He didn't like to admit it, but if it wasn't for his family, he'd probably have taken his life within a year or two. What was there to look forward to anymore? Why even bother? There was nothing to aspire to, no better days ahead. Half the pack no longer even believed in the old gods anymore. Spirits of forest and sky would never have tested their children this way, at least not the loving entities he'd been brought up to believe in. He looked back over the glittering water again, dappled curves lit enticingly by the light of the moon. It would be so easy to just dive in and swim until he found his freedom. Peace at long last…

 "Jolon," he muttered as he walked westward toward the base of the bridge. "Just think about the kid." His son was turning out well in his opinion, adapting to life in the 'refuge' far better than the wolves who could remember what a proper forest looked like. You probably couldn't miss true freedom if you'd never experienced it. He didn't know whether he felt glad for the boy's ignorance or ashamed of it. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, Jolon was thriving, and in the end that was all that really mattered. It proved there was hope left in his world and that gave him a reason to keep living, even if living meant dulling his senses to the harsh realities of his servitude.

 Gods. He kicked a jagged hunk of concrete into a puddle of water and it tumbled through with a splash. His thoughts were starting to sound like Jaci running his mouth. He shouldn't have let his friend talk his ear off like that; it was never good for his peace of mind.

 He breathed in deep, pleased that the scent of rain still lingered, covering up the smell of refuse and neglect. The humans had been late for garbage pickup. Again. If Delsin had any pull with the Alpha Assembly, he'd get on their asses about it, but it seemed like the wolves elected by the pack to represent them to the human government had all had their spines surgically removed to make space for the extra rations they were slipped under the table.

 Hulks of long-abandoned buildings passed by to his right as he marched through streets pock-marked by artillery fire. What had it been like, he wondered, when the rage of so many werewolf revolutionaries had been so thoroughly snuffed out on this very spot ten years ago? He skirted the edge of a particularly deep hole. For that matter, how many bodies littered this place before the military sent their contractors in to clean it all up in preparation for their new guests? It was pointless to think about—all official records of the battle were forbidden to the Haven wolves.

"Delsin!" someone called out through the night, nearly causing him to jump out of his fur. He hadn't been paying proper attention to his surroundings.

There were too many things the other wolves didn't know about his work. He'd need to be careful from here on out. He took a deep breath and walked toward the voice.