Tom

WE MEET the charter bus and the shifter refugees the next morning in a dirt parking lot at the juncture of three highways. The black wolf pack show up in two Humvees and Deke’s Mercedes G63. Whatever their jobs really are or were, they have plenty of money.

The refugees climb out of the vehicles. Even though they’ve been free for six weeks now, they still wear shell-shocked, wary expressions. I catch their strange, mixed scents—a jumble of animals, nothing that makes sense. It’s just like the misfit shifters from California. Alpha Green asked those three to come up to Wolf Ridge and meet the bus, so these new refugees will have shifter’s who have been through what they have to advocate for them and help build trust.

“We’re going to provide escort to Arizona,” Rafe tells me. “Make sure you arrive safe.” I shake his hand. “Thank you.”

A young female walks up with a baby bunny cup