. . .

Jane struggles. She kicks an Agency social worker. The social worker drops her in a sack. Jane gapes, outraged. The social workers push Jane’s head down deeper in the sack. They tie the sack. They carry her off at a run.

Jane shrieks, “Skoll!”

The sun-eating wolf bursts through the wall and into a hail of bullets. Three bullets lead the pack; they are in a cluster; they are aimed straight between the Skoll-wolf’s eyes. They should have known better. In the wild, bullets don’t dare trouble sun-eating wolves like this. It is only tame bullets, domestic human bullets, that would even consider the attempt.

Skoll snaps them out of the air in mid-motion. He swallows them. He shakes his head. He ravens. He seems to grow.

He tracks the sack of captive girl like she were bright with sun.

He howls. He surges.

<< . . .

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