I was going to start this with the words, case sensitive, THAT"S RIGHT!, but then I decided against it. So, I've actually been working on this for about half a year (yeah, I know), but I'm just so dang excited to post this! Seriously! All songs that were referenced were made by their respective owners. If you wanna ask me about any of the songs, just comment. As a matter of fact, tell me what you think! The only way I can fix up my writing is by knowing what I have to fix, and the only way I can know that is by you (yes, YOU!) telling me!

With that whatever-ya-call-it done, I now present to you, Cano Orfeo's Past.

---
Muffled yelling came from the other side of my door.

“But I can’t just leave him here!” my mother said. “He’s been living here for twelve years! Twelve years! He won’t know what to do!”

“You talk about that thing like it’s a person!” a man’s voice returns.

“That ‘thing’ lost his family, Chris! When I found him, he was starving to death! And now he’s living without a care in the world! How could I leave him!?” she screamed. A door slammed shut. Tears have already soaked the light blue pillow that I rested my black and red furred head on. My mom opened the door, walked over, and hugs me tightly.

“It’s okay, Cano,” she said. She always comforted me when things weren’t going very well; which tended to be more than not. Being an anthro when no one knows that anthros exist is pretty hard. Especially when you think you’re the only one. My mom was the only one that I know that hasn’t chased, screamed, or ran away from at the sight of me, as I was told. And that was when I was, at the oldest, one. That’s right; one. It’s like if I have fur on my body and I look remotely like a wolf, I’m dangerous. Even if I were a wolf, they’d probably still try and kill me because of all those stupid misconceptions spread by movies and books.

“Will he tell on us?” I say in a throaty, 13 year old voice, still recovering from the fight. She looks into my teary, mud brown eyes, my right eye with a sliver of green on the bottom, with her steel-grey ones.

“Even if he does,” she said, her own voice comforting me, “I’ll protect you.” Those words made me feel even safer, in a way only she could do. “Besides,” she continued, “if he tells anyone, they’ll all think he’s crazy.” We both laughed a little at the thought of Chris telling about me. If only we were right.





Cano Orfeo’s Story:

The Past









Chapter 1: Little Black Submarines

We laughed as a knock arose on the front door. My mother opens up the door to a policeman. I knew it. He told them.

“We have a warrant to search your house,” the man said. I started opening the window in my room, and removed the screen.

It was five years since my mom and Chris fought over me. Five years of a better life than with that stupid idiot. I hope you’re reading this, Chris. I hope you understand what you’ve done to her.

“Yes, of course,” my mom replied, knowing that as she let them in, I was sneaking into the woods that surrounded the house. It was a nice little house, not anything fancy, but enough to make it comfortable.

About an hour later, which felt like a day to me because I was ready to run at the sound of a snapping twig, “Thank you, ma’am,” the officer apologized before leaving to his squad car. I could almost see the smile on her face get replaced with a fake one, while the real one landed on my night black muzzle.

She hates being called “ma’am;” I never found out why, I just guessed it was a pet peeve of her’s. No puns intended, I took a slow step back to the house, and then, in the worst form of irony, that twig snapped. “Crap,” I thought. Someone noticed and walked around the house. “Please don’t see me; please just think it’s a rabbit or something.” The officer was about to walk away, but then, once again in irony, a white rabbit, which had completely contrasted my own fur, had hopped behind me, making a black shadow visible to the officer.

“I found it!” he yelled as he pulled out a pistol and ran at me, aiming at my skull. “Now,” he snarled, managing two tones of threatening and “scared stupid” at once, although I bet he didn’t want the latter tone to be evident. “Whatever the hell you are, you’re going to come with me and D.C. is going to deal-”

*PANG!* My mom nailed him in the back of the head with a pan. As serious as it was, I had to suppress a small laugh at the noise. I always thought the sound pans made when they hit something hard was kinda funny, and even now it was a bit humorous.

She held a death grip on my wrist, which felt like clamp closing around my wrist that was risking my paw’s chance of survival at my own. While I was thinking about my paw, my mom pulled me with her to her car, an old, dark grey, 2002 Chevy Impala. She quickly turned the key, but the engine didn’t start.

“Really, Murphy?” she yelled as I looked behind the car; two officers were running up. “TURN ON!” she screamed as the fifth ended in failure. She turned it once more and the engine finally roared to life, and the car wheelied, no, nearly flew out of the driveway, landed, and sped onto the road.

“Hey, mom?” I asked when we were driving off into the sunset; quite literally.

“Yes?” she replied, the adrenaline obviously still pumping through her.

“You can let go of my paw now.”

---

“I need to tell you something,” my mom confessed. I looked at her, across the car, and she only glimpsed at me for a moment before gluing her eyes back to the dark road, which was lit only by moonlight and highway streetlamps. For me, it wasn’t that dark, but I learned that humans’ eyes aren’t as great in the dark as mine were, so I knew that it was pretty dark for her. “You weren’t exactly ‘born’ from wolves,” she said.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that part out when I started learning science in 2nd grade,” I said a bit more indignantly than I had wanted it to be.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept your own past from you,” she apologized.

“You were saying?” I asked her.

“That night, when I found you, it was really the other way around; you found me. Well, your parents did.”

Before she could continue, I turned to her, my arms pushing me up a off the seat, and screamed, “YOU MEAN MY PARENTS ABANDONED ME!?!?!”

“No,” she said calmly, while using her “magic ability,” as I called it, to calm me down when I was screaming so loud people in China could hear me. “They asked me to look over you; they said that they weren’t going to be around for much longer, and that your name was Cano Orfeo. And then they left.”

I relaxed, and my body returned to the seat. “So does that mean I’m not the only one?” I asked, both afraid of and eager for the truth.

“I don’t know; they wore hoods over their faces.” She looked over at me, and I must have looked like someone had shot her; crestfallen. “I’m sorry Cano.” The last consolation I will ever hear from her.

A loud “BANG” deafened me and all of a sudden, I was lying on the ground next to the highway, my ears ringing and a flaming crash in front of me, and my mom lying on the ground, her blood matting the grass beside her.

“MOM!!” I screamed, running over to her.

“Listen to me Cano,” she said, panting in between gasps of air. “Head north west until you get to the town of Superior, then cross the river and head into the forests around Duluth.”

“Why?” I asked her, having no idea what I was in for. Tears had started rolling down my face, matting some of my fur.

“Your family lives there; tell them that your guardian sends her thanks to them for letting me raise you.” I started to cry so hard I had trouble breathing. “Cano, I love you, and I’m so damn proud of you.” Her steel-grey eyes lost focus. I shut them, and noticed a pistol next to her. I grabbed it and ran.





Chapter 2: Ten Cent Pistol

I put the hairpin and my claw into the lock as I tried to unlock the door. I winced as a small “chink” broke the silence as the hairpin snapped. When I looked around to check for any unwanted spectators, I didn’t see anyone, so I tried again after removing the broken hairpin. The second time it worked, and I slowly snuck into the back room of the small store.

At this point in time, I’ve been living in the wilderness now for a couple of months since the car crash. Just as I promised myself, I was heading towards the Superior/Duluth area at the northwest end of Wisconsin. Being in Cambria, a town 35 miles north of Madison, and over 250 miles from Duluth, I still had a ways to go.

I only broke into stores when I had to; it was always too close for comfort, in terms of staying hidden. I only grabbed what I needed, never any extra food. I walked into the back of the store, and grabbed what I needed; a compass. I found one, which was made of a clear, hard plastic, and picked it up with my claws, letting it rest in the cradle between my paw and it. “This should do,” I thought.

I slipped through back door after locking it and sneaked into the woods.

I went up to the tree that I had perched my backpack up on, where no one could reach it, and climbed up the tree to it. Yet another misconception; Canthrop, or canine anthros, can’t climb trees. Just because our four-legged relatives can’t climb them doesn’t mean we can’t. We learned and trained to climb trees, and it eventually came in our blood. But, with that being said, I only knew that I could jump a few feet and climb about six more before losing my grip.

After my backpack was hanging around my back, I walked away.

Sure, living in the wilderness when civilization, and possibly even safety is just a quarter mile away could get aggravating, but I still kept my distance, knowing that if I walked into a city I probably wouldn’t be able to walk out of it.

A sharp crack of a branch landed in my ear, and I instinctively crouched down and looked around for where the sound came from.

“Not many animals out here,” a man to the far left of me said. I turned and waited.

“No,” the second one agreed. I sniffed the air; gunpowder, steel, and most definitely human smells filled my wet, black nose. I still stayed put. They weren’t heading in my direction, so there wasn’t any reason to run and risk giving myself away.

“Let’s head back; there doesn’t seem to be anything over here,” the first man said. The second agreed again and they left. I can’t count how many times that’s happened; a couple yards away from someone who could kill you if it came to it. Luckily for them, they never even knew that the same went for them.

When I decided it was safe, I snuck away from the town, into the safer area around it. I had realized it was getting late, and I’d have to find somewhere to sleep for the night. I never made a fire; that would attract attention I did not want to have. Nor did I sleep in a tent, for the same reason. I’d always sleep in any sort of den I could find. You’d be amazed how many there are out there. I rarely ever was unable to find a den to sleep in; sure, most of them were small, but I never complained. I always thought, “If I complain, then it’ll just get worse.” And so, I never did. But, as I said before, there were nights where I couldn’t find a den large enough to fit my skinny frame, or sometimes any at all. And it just happened to be one of those nights.

“Damn it,” I thought as the half moon slowly rolled up the horizon. Whenever this happened, I’d just continue my journey and start walking northwest.

Most of the night was silent walking. Then the sound of crushed leaves rose from behind me. I turned around, and found the barrel of a pistol up against my forehead.

“I’m doing great; you?” I joked as I looked at the shooter. A human, obviously, with slightly tanned skin and dark brown hair, and wore a dark blue t-shirt and dark grey jeans, and gold eyes that felt like they were piercing through my soul.

“What are you?” he asked, confused.

“I’m trying to figure that out,” I answered back.

He seemed as scared as I was, even though he was the one with a freaking pistol up against my head. He brought the pistol off my forehead, and asked, “Where are you headed?”

“Duluth, why?”

“I need some help.”

I looked at him, confused, and asked him why.

“I can’t tell you,” is all he said.

Then I did the stupidest thing in my life; it was a good move in the long run, but it just felt stupid at the time.

“Alright, now if you lower the gun, I’d be glad to help you.”

He lowered the gun, but a gunshot went off. I fell to the ground holding the back of my right knee where a bullet had ripped its way through. I blacked out.





Chapter 3: Best of You

“Where is there for us to take him?” A black female wolf anthro asked a light grey wolf.

“I don’t know! We just have to get Cano out of here!” the male wolf told her.



The world faded back and instinctively I looked around to find my bearings. A tent; I was lying inside a tent. Then I thought about the dream I had. “What was that about? Why were they talking about me? It couldn’t have been one of my memories, I don’t remember crap before I was three.” The glow and crackling of a fire outside caught my attention. “Definitely a different tactic,” I thought as I tried to get up, but found a wall of pain keeping me from doing so, causing an “ow” and a soft thud as I landed on the tarp.

The zipper from the front of the tent slid down as the human walked in.

“So you decided to wake up?” he asked me.

“And you decided to start a fire?” I shot back at him. Admittedly, the fact that he started a fire had pissed me off a little bit.

“Yeah, so?” he asked, unaware of how much attention a fire alone would attract.

“Fires send up smoke, which in turn pretty much says, ‘Hey! We’re over here!’”

He gave me a look of “please tell me you’re joking,” and shot out of the tent and a large sizzling sound replaced the crackling. At least the fire was out.

“So, you’ve been running, too?” the human asked me.

“Not running; searching. I’m trying to figure out what I am,” I explained to him. “And you’re running from who?”

“Long story short, people who don’t exactly like me,” he explained. Oh boy, did he shorten that story.

“We also should leave this stuff here,” I added, pointing to the tarp under me. “It’ll get heavy real fast and sort of gives us away.”

He looked at the tent as if he couldn’t say yes.

“Okay.” That part confused me. “Okay? He just looked at the tent as if he didn’t want to!”

“You’re going to need to let your leg heal up; you won’t be going anywhere with a leg like that,” he said as he left the tent.

I hadn’t realized how much my leg had hurt until he had mentioned it, and the pain caused me to black out again.





“Where are you going?” a young, brown and grey furred she-wolf anthro asked her mother, who seemed to be the same female wolf as before.

“Listen, Daciana; I need you to run as fast as you can. Don’t let anyone see you.”

“Mom, where are you going?” the young wolf asked again, crying.

“Somewhere I may never see you. I love you, Daciana.”

The same grey wolf as before walked into the room and said,

“Hey, we’ve got to go!” the human yelled at me as he shook me awake. My leg still hurts, but not as much as before. I tried to stand up, but I stumbled down. The human pulled me up and threw my arm over his shoulder and walked me out of the tent. On the way out of the campsite, I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulders. I did what I could to walk on my own, but every other step spiked my leg with pain.

“What was that about?” I asked as we neared a stream.

“Remember those people that didn’t like me? Well, that fire told them where I was.”

“I think you owe me an explanation,” I told him as I slowly sat down on the river bank, wincing every once in a while from the pain in my knee.

“Why do I?” he questioned.

“Well, you’re not the one with a bullet in their knee.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “but it’s almost impossible to explain without you thinking I’m crazy.”

I point at my tail and say “Try me.”

The human took a breath to talk, but was interrupted by a gunshot.

“Not again,” I sighed as I stumbled up onto my feet.

“You sure?” the human asked me.

“Do we have much of a choice?” I said, pointing to the woods behind us.

“Well, what do ya know?” a voice said from where I was once pointing. “Looks like little Raul has a friend.” An older human, probably 20 or so, walked out from the woods.

“Who the hell are you?” I yelled at him, not knowing what I was getting myself into.

“You don’t know who I am? I am…”

“Oh great,” I thought as he listed names for himself, “An arrogant idiot that thinks it’s all about him.”

“…I am Hunter Toru.”

“Hunter?” I asked skeptically, “Hunter Toru. So what is it exactly that you hunt, Hunter Toru.” I was getting a kick out of this.

“You”

The smile faded from my face. “What do you mean ‘me’?”

“Stop playing stupid; you know you’re a werewolf and that’s why you’ve got that bullet in you,” he said, pointing to my leg.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I snickered as I turned to Raul, “these guys are just screwing around, we need to go somew-”

“No,” Raul interrupted me. “these guys aren’t screwing around.”

“Gold eyes,” I thought to myself. “How the hell could I not think of something like that? Even if it was just some quick, stupid thought, how did I miss that?”

Then an idea popped in my head.

“Fine, ya got me, but your silver bullets didn’t work, now did they?” I teased them, pointing to the back of my knee. “Didn’t hurt a bit!” I emphasized that by jumping into the air once. To put it bluntly, it hurt.

“What the hell are you doing?” Raul whispered next to me.

“Trust me on this,” I whispered back to him before yelling to the hunters. “Never seen a werewolf immune to silver, now have ya?” They even seemed intimidated, which surprised me considering I didn’t know if it would’ve worked. “Now scram before I kill you all.”

And they all did. I barely held my laugh until they were gone. Raul joined in. When we finished laughing, we walked, well, he walked, and I stumbled, across the stream into the woods.

“So how much did it hurt to jump?” Raul asked me.

“My leg hurts a lot, let’s just say that.”

“And now you owe me an explanation,” he informed me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re immune to silver.”

“Actually, I had no clue werewolves existed until a minute ago, and I’m not a werewolf.”

“Well at least I could get a name,” he insisted.

“Cano; Orfeo is my last name if you want to be formal,” I joked.

He grinned, but it quickly faded. “Why are you headed to Duluth?” he asked me.

“Supposedly, my “parents” live there, whoever they are,” I told him.

“Do you think you’ll find out they’re scientists?” he joked. It wasn’t funny.

“What if they are?” I thought. “What if I’m just some experiment that they let loose or something?” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I held back tears.

“You seriously don’t remember anything?” Raul asked me.

I shook my head as my breathing got heavier and more irregular.

“The last thing I need on my mind is whether or not I’m supposed to be here,” I gasped in between tears.

Raul hung his head.





Chapter 4: Decode

“Hello?” I said, waking up in the middle of a forest, thick, black fog keeping me from seeing more than a couple feet ahead of me.

“Cano!” A female’s voice shrieked from the fog behind me. I turned around and ran towards the source of distress. Eventually I tripped on something, and when I turned to look, I saw a black and red male wolf anthro lying on the ground with a gun pointed at me. I panicked for a split second before realizing that he wasn’t moving, breathing; nothing. I thought that he was aiming at something else, so I spun around and saw that I was right; a human had his own pistol aimed at the wolf; however, there was an unmoving explosion that had been pushing a just as stationary bullet at the wolf.

I looked at the wolf again. He definitely resembled me, but not exactly. He was older than I was; I’d say late 30’s. But he had same markings as I did, and that worried me. I couldn’t help but think that I was going to be him.

Then I thought about the scream; a woman’s scream. Not a man’s. I turned around, yet again, and walked past the human. A dark grey she-wolf anthro was standing there, her muzzle opened with the expression of fear; the same she-wolf as in my last dream. I saw that she was reaching towards the male wolf’s direction, but not at him. When I looked at where she was pointing, I saw a small pup, not more than a few months old, with black and red fur.



The next day, I woke up in a tree, about five feet up. As soon as I moved, my body tipped over to one side and I fell straight onto the ground with a quick “huh” and thud. I rolled over and saw Raul looking down at me, snickering.

“It’s my first time sleeping in a tree,” I excused, “give me a break.”

He jumped and landed next to me, offering his hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me up onto my feet.

“So, skipper, which way are we going?” he asked, referencing the fact that I was the one leading the way.

“Well, northwest is that way,” I said pointing to the tree, “but unless we eat, traveling will get hard,” I said before sniffing the air. I bolted off in the direction of an elk.

“Well, okay then,” was all Raul said.

I hid in the bushes, waiting for hen I could take the elk down.

“Please, take me,” a voice said.

I looked around, confused about where it was coming from.

“My life is growing short, so let my body help yours.”

“Where’s that voice coming from?” I thought.

“In front of you.”

I stood up and realized that the elk was talking to me in my head.

“How are you doing this?” I asked.

“Your people call it The Sight, along with the Lera,” the elk explained.

“What do you mean ‘my people’? What’s the Lera?” I asked.

“I cannot answer all of your questions, but you will find answers in your journey. However, you are not al-” The elk couldn’t finish as it fell to the ground.

I walked up to the body, the heart still beating, kneeled, and said calmly, “Thank you. Now rest.” A single tear came from the elk’s eye before its head nodded off. I checked the heart. It had stopped beating. I picked up the body, which was one of the heavier things I had to carry, and made my way back to the tree.

Raul turned around and saw that I had cried a little while ago.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I lied. “Does the word “Lera” mean anything to you?” I asked him.

“No,” he answered, “why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Well, how are we going to cook it?” Raul asked me.

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.”

“We might be able to cook it on a burnt out fire.”

---

“You know,” I said, finishing the chunk of cooked meat, “I forgot how good that tastes.”

“What do you mean?” Raul asked.

“I haven’t eaten cooked meat in so long I forgot how much I love,” I explained.

“Well, in any case,” Raul continued, “we should start heading north again; getting there sooner is always better; might get to some safety.”

As we left I couldn’t help but think about the dream I had. “What was it about? Who was that human? Why was he shooting at that wolf? Why was I there?” Until I ran into a tree.

---

Three uneventful months had passed; unless you count full moons, which surprisingly didn’t scare the living crap out of me due to the fact that Raul could control his lycanthropy. Which in of itself was amazing, let alone that he could even hunt. We found ourselves at a lake about, about 6 miles south of Duluth, Minnesota. We were nearing our end goal.

We rested at the lake’s northern coast, skipping rocks out. I looked into the water to find a good stone for skipping, when it happened.

A rustling progressed to my ears. I sniffed the air; two humans and recently burnt gunpowder. I turned around and saw a tube sticking out of the bush. I glanced at Raul, sitting on the ground at an angle that he didn’t have the slightest clue what was going to enter his body.

“Raul!” I never should’ve yelled. My voice alerted the assassin as the tell-tale sound of air pushing out a hollow wooden bullet filled with death flew towards the lycan’s neck. I tried to get there in time, but no one could fast enough to stop what was the inevitable. I heard more rustling as another dart flew. I swung my body in the opposite direction, thus dodging the projectile. I ran as hard as I could, beginning to wear out a couple minutes in, remembering I had a pistol. I cussed.

I noticed the ground was harder than before. Two lights rolled over a hill. A car. I pounced the ground off the side of the road for cover. I pulled snow on top of me over and over again, not planning on being seen so close to my goal. A door slammed. Footsteps got louder and louder as the snow was crushed what couldn’t have been more than a few feet away. The tip of a shoe poked into my icy hiding hole.

“Benny, I think I found something,” said the voice only six feet above.

“A man with a dead body is speeding north down Tower Avenue; we need units immediately!”

“Come on, Jay, we’ve got to go!” another person, probably the other officer.

“North,” I thought, “that’s where I came from.”

Two door slams and a screeching later, I dug myself out. I saw some lights in the distance, barely through the thick storm, but enough to know they were buildings. I howled in joy.





Chapter 5: Bottom of the River

I walked into a wooden room with a table resting in between four anthros, like me.

“Hey mommy, can I have some more?” a small wolf pup, probably about five, asked her mother. Brown and grey fur covered her body,.

“I’m sorry, Daciana; we didn’t hunt for seconds.” The same dark-grey wolf as in that still dream answered the pup’s question.

My future self added, “It’s been getting harder and harder to find food around here. Once there’s more game, we’ll all be able to have seconds.”

An older, probably about fifteen or so, wolf with the same colored markings as me, chimed in. “So, do you have a name for the Sikla yet?” I noticed the grey wolf was pregnant.

“Well, if it’s a girl, we decided on Ralphina,” the older she-wolf answered.

“And if it’s a boy?” Daciana inquired.

“He’ll be Cano,” the old wolf answered.



I woke up in a sweat. Yes, ironic; even though I had dark fur, it was the dead middle of winter. I groggily climbed up the walls of snow that slowly built up over the night. When I finally tumbled down, I hit something hard and cold. I tried to push myself up onto my hind legs, but I slipped and fell down back onto what would be classified as ice. I classified it as very, annoying ice.

*crack* I broke from sleep’s spell as I turned around and saw a fissure in the ice bed. My eyes widened. “Oh, frick!” I used my claws to kick myself up onto my back paws so I could actually get some speed going. Luckily, it was only about two thirds of a mile. However, the cracking got louder and louder. One second I was running, the other I was swimming.

It was the “#1 Coldest Moment of My Damn Life”. I was in shock as I fought against the current to keep my frozen, matted head above the liquid trying to kill me. There was a point where I just couldn’t fight anymore. My arms were too cold to use. My legs were just tired, the ice water freezing my them, slowly but surely. My head dunked under the water. If I weren’t under water, tears would’ve slid down my muzzle. “I was so, damn, close.”

My vision was invaded by black. I couldn’t feel any of my body, nor that someone grabbed my soaked shirt and yanked me up. Even though I was out of what would’ve been my icy grave, my vision still shrank. I heard people talking like a whole clan of doctors trying to keep a patient alive. Then I realized that was the case, except on a boat.

I heard the ripping of clothes that were glued onto my black fur. Suddenly, I found myself going commando, although this quickly changed as a warm blanket was wrapped around my body while it was picked up.

“Cano, don’t you dare die on me!” the person holding me barked. His voice sounded familiar.

“Are- are you my brother?” I was barely able to ask him, but he was able to pick out the words.

“Yes, I am!” he exclaimed.

If I could’ve moved, you can bet I would’ve howled. But, sadly, I couldn’t do anything, and the dark filled my view. His voice shouting my name faded away.

---

A dot of visibility agonizingly slowly grew larger. I shook my head, hoping to make it go faster, but quickly stopped, realizing my headache.

I looked around and saw that I was in a tent, only instead of a flap, there was a door.

I heard a voice in through the door in front of the bed I was lying on.

“They did what!?” the man rejoiced.

“What’s going on?” a tired voice inquired. A woman, by the sound of it.

“The president just passed the law; we’re officially citizens of the US!” the man yelled with great joy.

I got up out of bed feeling weird, like it was a dream of some sort. I passed it off knowing how the feeling comes around every once in awhile, and walked over to the door, the two people still celebrating. When I opened up the door, I everything was blindingly white. I walked through, and found myself in bed again, this time with a black and red wolf looking over me.

I broke out in tears. I’m sure to you that seems like an odd reaction, but to me this was when I found out I wasn’t alone. I had lived my life not knowing who my parents were, thinking I was the only one like me out there, and then here I was, in front of my brother. To me, my reaction was expected, maybe a little bit less than.

“Koli! We have to get moving! The humans are going to get here any minute now!” a woman’s voice traveled through the thin walls of the tent.

“Cano, we don’t have much time, okay?” my brother, who must have been in his mid thirties, tried to explain quickly. “Do you know how to fire a gun?”

This caught me far off guard. With my people, which was a weird set of words for me and still is, living in the woods, hiding away from humans, I was expecting bows and arrows. Not that I was complaining, since bows weren’t exactly a strong suit of mine.

I told him yes, since I did have a little bit of a chance to shoot a shotgun a few times when I was twelve. He said “Good,” and handed me an M14, however, which was anything but a shotgun.

“KOLI! ZOK OHV GI KAN VI {z-oh-k ohv gee con vee}!!!” she screamed at my brother.

I got up out of bed, assuming those words meant “Get your ass out here,” which just so happened to be an exact translation, and exited the tent. I saw a crowd of anthropomorphic animals standing in what could only be described as silence.

“Cano?” someone uttered to the left of me. I turned and saw the same grey she-wolf from all of my dreams.

“Mom?” I ran to her as she hugged me.

After what I longed to be forever, but was only ten seconds, she looked at me and said, “There’s no time for celebration now. We have to move our camp.”

My brother walked up with the tent inside a bag, which must have been stupidly heavy. “Khen iv doven Worto {Ken eve doh-vin wart-oh}?” he asked. This time I had no clue what the words meant.

“Knife! We’re ready to go now!” my mother called out. A white wolf walked out from the crowd and turned to them. I could tell he was older by the greying of his fur around his muzzle. I may not have lived here long enough to know the basics, but I knew enough about my four-legged cousins to figure other parts out.

“Our next stop is five miles north of Minneapolis,” the wolf explained in a voice loud enough so everyone could hear, but quiet enough that no one that didn’t need to hear couldn’t eavesdrop, “so get ready for a long trip; Orfeos you come with me; everyone else, no more than ten per party, got it?”

Everyone nodded as the mob of anthros walked off, splitting in different directions, but all heading more or less west. The white wolf waved for us to follow him. My mom and brother quickly jogged over to catch up, leaving me to do so twice.

---

Chapter 6: La Manana

“Your Dragga would be proud of you,” the white wolf named Knife told me reassuringly as he and my family walked through the forest. A massive hill covered the setting sun as we traveled.

I assumed he was referencing my father, who I noticed wasn’t around. “Where is my dad?” I asked. Up to this day I can’t decide whether I should’ve or not.

My mother sighed. “He was killed.”

“He died protecting his family,” the white canine added. “He was a good Anthrop.”

I remembered that dream with everyone frozen in time.

Snow crunched. I turned around instinctively and aimed the rifle. I had just then realized two things; one, my pistol wouldn’t work due to my swim in the river, and two, the rifle had a silencer on it. More snow crunched. I heard the sound of guns being cocked behind me. Apparently I was in a small squad. A gunshot rang out, followed by the pulling of metal. I ducked, the bullet flying over my head. I heard a thud and crunching snow. I started to look behind me, but another gunshot snapped me back to what was in front of me. Time seemed to have slowed. I could see the bullet clearly, its twisted spin moving the air around it. I took aim, and fired. The rifle jumped into my shoulder as the bullets ran towards each other. A small *bink* echoed through my ears as the two metal pieces fell into the snow. I fired again. The shooter was still pulling the bolt back as it hit his neck, blood painting the trees behind him.

Time resumed as I turned around and saw the white wolf on the ground, his own blood washing the white snow. A crater where the bullet landed bled profusely from Knife’s chest, which I pressed my paws onto in hope of slowing the blood loss. He looked at it and gave a short chuckle, his expression showing pain. “A grave situation, huh?” he joked.

I laughed a little. “A bullet in your heart and you’re cracking jokes?”

I heard him speak, but his muzzle didn’t move. “I’m going to die.”

“No, you aren’t,” I argued. He looked not at me, but at my eyes.

“Ohven yshuo {oh-ven ee-shoo-oh},” he said quietly.

“What did you say?” I inquired.

“You have your father’s eyes.”

“And that’s how I ended up here.”

A man in a rather fancy black and white suit sat across the metal table in front of me. Concrete walls, cameras on every corner, and a mirror like piece of glass on one of the walls, which I could only assume was a one way window. The only exit was a metal door.

“Your mother and brother?” the man asked. “What happened to them?”

“You should know that; they were darted too,” I replied, referencing the fact that I got shot with a dart. Not the most fun experience in the world.

“Come with me.” He stood up and opened up the rusted iron and revealed the outside world. The light was blindingly bright, making me squint just to stop the pain, but still leaving me unable to see outside. I stood up and turned around, raising my paws that were bound behind my back. He took out a key and unlocked the handcuffs.

As we walked outside, my eyes finally adjusted to the light and showed me where I was; a base in the middle of a valley. Later I would find out that the valley was almost invisible from the large desert that surrounded it, keeping the base isolated from the rest of the world.

“Welcome to Phoenix,” the man introduced. I thought he was talking about the city until the next sentence joined the silent air. “We’re a special operations unit. When the government wants done secretly and without any chance of attention, we’re sent out to do it. Well, the team gets sent out; I’m just here to watch over it.”

“I’m sorry, the team?” I asked.

“You’ll meet them soon enough. For now, though,” he continued, “I’m Colonel Burk.” He extended his hand out for a handshake, and I accepted. When he let go, we both realized my claws had cut his palm.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it, Cano,” he interrupted in a calm voice. “You’ve been traveling for half a year; you should be more worried about getting some rest than me getting cut!” he chuckled.

He showed me to the barracks, which was rather different than I expected. Normally, I’d’ve (I would have) thought that there’d be a barely furnished room with some crappy beds lining the room, but this was different. Another concrete building with actually legitimate rooms lined a softly carpeted hallway that led down to a room with what seemed to be some sort of bar. I heard cheering coming from said room, and my curiosity, despite my longing for rest, lead me into the room. I peeked around the corner and saw a bunch of anthros moving around what I thought to be a pool table.

“Rouk {row-ck}!” someone quickly said in a frustrated but fun tone. A brown and grey husky walked back from the table. He noticed me and asked, “So you’re the Sikla {sick-la}?”

“I guess so,” I answered. To be honest, I was scared like a kid on their first day of school, and in some ways, that’s exactly what it was.

Everyone else turned, making me even more nervous. “Welcome to Phoenix!” they all cheered. I instantly felt at home.


Chapter 7: Awake

I woke up the next morning. I could still remember their names. Staff Sergeant Alec was the dark grey wolf, Sergeant Amber was the arctic fox, Warrant Officer Irenus was the gold cat, Specialist Hector was that husky, and the bear was Burney, who also was a Warrant Officer. That morning I looked up at the ceiling, thanked God for it, and asked Christ into my heart.

“But I thought Knife told you something different!” my son, Randolf, a black and red wolf with some spots of grey, who rested, no, sat next to me with his hazel eyes staring oh so intently at me, waiting for the answer to his question.

“That’s right, son; he did say something else,” I replied. “He said ‘Ohven diven salvado.’” As I quoted Knife, his voice seemingly replaced mine.

“What does ‘ohvn selvdo’ mean?” my son, only four or five, cutely attempted asking.

“It means,” I continued, leaning towards Randolf, “that he made me the Head of the pack.”

He looked at me with wonder in his eyes. Although what I said was mostly true, Knife did