"Crossjay," Lily muttered, wiping her knife blade on her jeans. The leather strip Fen bit down on tasted like old sweat and road dust. lily look at both of her mates, Fen and daryl sat opposite of her, Shane and rick sat in the front seats, sophia sat in her mothers lap, and carl sat in his mothers lap his hand holding his fathers cowboy hat, speaking of the cowboy cop, rick keep looking back at them all, and lily wanted to growl at the alpha who keep staring at her mates, but she keep it in. zombies and all this was no time to be fighting with the others who was by the way alive, she was still hurting over the cabin and the lost of ash and saila pups she crawdle the last living pup in her hand, saila was sleeping by the cars door in the back, when the pup gave a whimper she move to put the hungry little pup up to the wolfs tits.
The van fishtailed around a corner, throwing Glenn against the rear doors. almost landing on the wolf, " be careful shane" rick said as the laugh at glenn something they havent done for awhile....
...........
when the car finally came to a stop they where at a camp of some sorts, tints laid around behind a fence off area.
The van shuddered to a halt inside a chain-link perimeter, dust settling like powdered bone on its dented hood. Lily blinked against the sudden stillness, her ears ringing from the engine's roar. Beyond the windshield, faded tents sagged between rusted oil drums, and the sour tang of unwashed bodies hung thick in the air. Sophia carefully lowered the pup to its mother's belly before scrambling out, Carl close behind. Rick was already striding toward a man in a stained baseball cap who stood near a smoking cookfire, gesturing emphatically at the gates Shane had just barreled through. "You led a goddamn parade here!" the man snapped, jabbing a finger toward the fence line where walkers pressed against the metal, moaning. Shane shrugged, wiping grease from his hands onto his jeans. "Got 'em here alive, didn't I?"
Daryl helped Fen stumble from the van. Fen's shoulder throbbed with every step, the makeshift bandage soaked through. He leaned heavily on Daryl, scanning the camp. It was a patchwork of desperation—children scuffling near a water pump, gaunt faces peering from tent flaps, the low murmur of voices threaded with exhaustion. Lily followed, the pup cradled against her chest. Saila padded beside her, ears twitching at the unfamiliar scents. Glenn lingered by the van, rubbing his bruised ribs where he'd slammed into the doors. "Place stinks like despair and boiled cabbage," he muttered to Sophia. She nodded silently, her eyes fixed on a group of men sharpening knives near the fire. carl being the youngest of them all, sophia being 15 glenn being 20 rick and shane and lori being 30 something, and lily being 19 and fen and daryl being 28.
Rick faced the camp leader, a wiry man with eyes like chipped flint. "Name's Stowey," the man said, spitting into the dust. "You brought a damn horde down on us." He gestured toward the fence, where walkers clawed at the chain links. Shane bristled. "We brought wheels. And supplies." He jerked his thumb toward the van. Stowey's gaze flickered over Lily's bloodstained shirt, Fen's pallor, the wolf pup squirming in Lily's arms. "And problems," he added flatly. "That thing's a liability." Saila growled low in her throat, pressing against Lily's leg. Fen straightened, ignoring the fire in his shoulder. "She's saved more lives than your fence has."
Sophia edged closer to Glenn, her fingers brushing his sleeve. "They've got kids here," she whispered, nodding toward a cluster of hollow-eyed children playing with a deflated soccer ball. Carl knelt beside one, offering a strip of jerky. The boy snatched it, stuffing it into his mouth without a word. Lori watched, arms crossed tight over her chest. "We need water," she said to Rick, her voice tight. "And Fen needs stitches." Lily nodded, shifting the pup to her hip. "The wound's packed, but it's deep." Saila nudged her hand, whining softly. The pup rooted blindly against Lily's shirt.
" we will clear out the walkers if you give us the building and we will hunt for food, my mates and i are the best hunters around, we can do this for the building there" she pointed to the old barn at the camp edge. Stowey spat again, a brown arc hitting the dirt near Shane's boot. "Barn's got holes in roof. And your wolf ain't hunting shit with that pup suckling." Saila's ears flattened, a rumble vibrating through Lily's leg. "She hunts fine," Lily countered, shifting the pup higher. "Give us two days. We'll patch the roof, bring back meat, and thin that herd." She jerked her chin toward the groaning fence line. Rick stepped forward, his voice low and steady. "We pull our weight. Always have."
Stowey's flinty eyes scanned the group—Fen swaying on his feet, Daryl's crossbow still cocked, Glenn's nervous energy. Finally, he grunted. "Two days. You miss quota, or that wolf causes trouble, you're all out. Barn's yours 'til then." He turned abruptly, shouting orders to men near the cookfire. "Get torches lit! Brace that south gate!"
" carl take the little wolf pup to the barn, with saila, daryl, fen, and i are going to shift and take out the walkers then we hunt, rick do not let anyone touch my wolf, or her baby" lily said handing carl the wolf pup before shifting into her massive white wolf, her two mates fen and daryl follow suit and shifted two their wolves too.
The transformation wasn't silent—bones cracked like dry timber, fur erupted in patches, and three wolves stood where humans had been. Lily's white form shook itself, shedding the last remnants of clothes. Fen's russet fur bristled as he tested his injured shoulder with a low growl. Daryl, a grizzled grey wolf, snapped his jaws toward the fence line. Carl cradled the blind pup, wide-eyed, as Saila nudged him urgently toward the barn. Rick raised his shotgun. "Glenn, Sophia—watch their backs from the van roof. Shane, cover the south gate."
The wolves moved as one. Lily streaked ahead, a pale ghost in the twilight. She vaulted a rusted oil drum and slammed into the nearest walker, jaws crushing its skull before it could groan. Fen flanked right, limping but lethal, dragging down two entangled corpses by their rotted legs. Daryl took the left, a whirlwind of teeth and claws, tearing through a cluster near the fence corner. Their coordinated assault was brutal, efficient. Moans turned to wet gurgles as spines snapped and skulls collapsed. Saila paced inside the fence, whining, her gaze locking on lily then on her pup in Carl's arms. the people inside the fence watch the three rip through the undead walker herd like they where nothing.
"Trip out," Shane muttered from the gatepost, shotgun slack in his hands. He watched Lily rip out a walker's throat with a savage twist. "Never seen anything move that fast." Rick didn't lower his rifle. "Keep scanning the treeline. More could come."
Inside the fence, the camp watched in stunned silence. Children peered from behind tent flaps, eyes wide as the three wolves carved through the herd like hot knives through butter. Fen moved with a limp, favoring his bleeding shoulder, but his grey form still tore into a walker trying to climb the fence, dragging it back down. Daryl's russet wolf pinned two against a rusted sedan, crushing skulls with brutal efficiency. Lily's white blur was everywhere—a flash of teeth, a spray of black blood, then onto the next. The wet crunch of bone and the choked-off groans filled the air, thick with the stench of decay.
"Should be impossible," Glenn breathed from the van roof, rifle forgotten as he tracked Lily's impossible speed. Sophia braced beside him, knuckles pale on her shotgun. "They're thinning them faster than we ever could." Rick's voice cut through the noise, sharp and urgent. "Sophia—three o'clock! Near the tool shed!" Sophia swung her weapon, firing twice. A walker crumpled, missing its jaw. "Got it!" just as lily took down the last one she yip at her mates to follow her into the woods they would have to feed at least 20 people so they would have to kill at least 10 deer and big ones at that merle and shane ready to take the kills back as the rest remove the undead bodies.
The last walker slumped, its skull crushed beneath Fen's paw. Silence fell, thick and startling after the frenzy. Only the heavy panting of the wolves and the distant moans beyond the fence remained. Lily shook black gore from her muzzle, then nudged Fen's flank gently—a silent check on his shoulder wound. He huffed, a low rumble that vibrated through the cooling air. *Fine. Hunting now.* Daryl circled, ears pricked toward the dense woods bordering the camp's eastern edge. Lily lifted her head, scenting the wind: damp earth, pine resin, and beneath it, the musky tang of deer. She gave a short, sharp yip. *Follow.*
They melted into the treeline like smoke, three shadows flowing through the twilight. Lily led, her white form a ghost between the trunks, pausing only to taste the air. The forest floor was a mosaic of fallen leaves and moss, muffling their steps. Fen moved with a stiff grace beside her, favoring his injured leg but alert. Daryl ranged wider, nose to the ground, tracking older trails. They moved deeper, past a crumbling stone wall choked with ivy, where the scent grew stronger—fresh, nervous, close. Lily froze. Ahead, in a small clearing dappled with fading light, a buck lifted its head, antlers like a crown of bone. Behind it, a dozen does browsed nervously.
Lily's signal was a flick of her ear. Fen sank low, belly fur brushing damp earth, circling left to cut off escape toward the thicker brush. Daryl ghosted right, silent as owl flight, positioning himself downwind. Lily remained still, a statue of white fur. The buck snorted, sensing danger but not seeing it. One doe stamped a hoof. Lily exploded forward. The clearing erupted in panicked motion. Fen lunged from cover, snarling, driving the herd toward Daryl's ambush point. Daryl's russet form shot out, teeth snapping at hocks, forcing the deer into a tighter knot. Lily targeted the buck, leaping onto its back, jaws finding the spine behind its skull. It crashed down with a thud that shook the ground. Fen and Daryl worked together, isolating and bringing down two fat does in quick succession. The air filled with the hot, coppery tang of blood and the frantic bleating of the survivors vanishing into the woods.
"Three down," Fen rasped, shifting back to human form beside the buck's carcass. Blood streaked his chest, mixing with the sweat on his brow. His shoulder throbbed fiercely. Lily shifted beside him, already pulling a skinning knife from her discarded jeans. "Big ones," she confirmed, wiping her blade on moss. "Enough for tonight." Daryl spat out a mouthful of deer hair, shifting back with a grunt. "Rest scattered clean. Won't find denser herds closer'n five miles." He glanced at Fen's shoulder, where fresh blood seeped through the bandage. "You tore it open." Fen shrugged, wincing. "Worth it." He knelt beside a doe, slicing its throat to bleed it properly. Lily moved to the buck, her knife flashing in the fading light.
Back at camp, Shane whistled low as they dragged the carcasses through the gate. "Hell's bells," he muttered, eyeing the buck's massive antlers. Stowey stood by the cookfire, arms crossed. "Barn's yours," he conceded, nodding toward the sagging structure. "Roof's still shit." Carl scrambled forward, Saila's pup cradled in his arms. "Did Saila help?" Lily ruffled his hair, her smile tight with exhaustion. "She guarded you. That's enough." The grey wolf nudged her pup, whining softly until Carl set it down to nurse.
Inside the barn, dust motes danced in shafts of moonlight piercing the rotten roof. Daryl propped Fen against a moldy hay bale. "Sit. Before you bleed out." Lily knelt, peeling back the blood-soaked bandage. Moonlight glinted on her needle as she threaded it. "Bite this," she ordered, handing Fen a strip of jerky. He clamped down, muscles corded in his neck as the needle pierced flesh. Outside, Glenn's voice carried from the van roof—"Sophia, pass the binoculars. Thought I saw movement near the river."
Saila paced near Carl, who fed the pup drips of goat milk from a salvaged bottle. The boy's eyes were wide. "Will Fen be okay?" Lily didn't look up, pulling the thread taut. "He's stubborn. Like his wolf." Fen grunted around the jerky, sweat dripping onto the hay.
Outside, Stowey's camp stirred—a hive of activity as men dragged walker corpses into a pit. Shane tossed gasoline, the fumes sharp and acrid. "Burn 'em before the stink draws more." Rick scanned the treeline, shotgun loose but ready. "Glenn saw movement east. Could be stragglers." Sophia climbed down from the van roof, rubbing her arms. "Or deer returning?" Glenn shook his head. "Too slow. Human-shaped."
Inside the barn, Lily knotted the last stitch. Fen spat out the jerky strip, breathing hard. "Done?" She nodded, pressing fresh gauze to the wound. "Don't tear it again." Daryl tossed Fen his shirt. "Or you'll bleed out before breakfast." Fen shrugged it on gingerly. "Worth it for venison." Saila whined, nudging her sleeping pup. Carl stroked its tiny head. "What's her name?" Lily's gaze softened. "Haven't named her yet."
Outside, Rick's voice cut through the night. "Glenn—confirm sighting!" Glenn scrambled back onto the van roof, binoculars pressed to his eyes. "Definitely human! Three figures... moving slow along the riverbank." Sophia climbed up beside him. "Refugees?" Shane spat into the dirt. "Or raiders. Stowey's got enemies." Stowey himself appeared, shotgun cradled. "Describe 'em." Glenn squinted. "Two men, one woman. Ragged clothes. One's limping bad."
Inside the barn, Fen pushed himself upright, ignoring Lily's sharp glare. "If they're hostile, we need numbers." Daryl snatched his crossbow from the hay bale. "Stay put, idiot." But Fen was already moving toward the barn door, his stitches pulling tight. Saila growled, ears pricked toward the river.
Outside, Rick motioned Glenn down from the van roof. "Keep 'em in your sights. Shane, Stowey—flank the east fence. Quietly." Shane bristled but followed Stowey's lead, both men melting into the shadows beside a gutted pickup truck. Sophia stayed low beside Rick, shotgun steady. "They're waving," she whispered. "Like they're surrendering?"
Inside the barn, Fen leaned heavily against the splintered doorframe, ignoring Lily's hissed warning. Daryl nudged him aside with a shoulder, crossbow leveled through a gap in the wood. "One's dragging their leg like it's broke," he muttered. The trio stumbled closer, illuminated by the camp's flickering torchlight—a gaunt woman supporting a man whose left foot left a dark smear in the dirt, and behind them, a boy no older than Carl, clutching a bundle to his chest. The woman's voice cracked across the distance. "Please! We saw the fire... heard the gunshots earlier. We got nowhere else!" the woman said.
lily watch from the side of the barn where she had move to look at the wood that was just sitting there, they could us it to patch the holes in the roof.
The trio stumbled closer, torchlight catching the desperation etched into their faces. The woman's arm trembled under the weight of the limping man, his ankle bent at an unnatural angle. The boy clutched a stained blanket bundle, eyes darting between the raised weapons and the wolf watching intently from the barn door. "Please," the woman repeated, voice fraying. "He stepped in a bear trap downriver... been dragging him two days." The boy shifted, revealing a tiny, feverish face peeking from the blankets—a toddler, eyes glazed with sickness.
Rick lowered his shotgun an inch, assessing. "Names?"
"Elena," the woman choked out. "My brother Tomas. His boy, Leo." Tomas sagged, a low moan escaping him as his leg buckled. Shane kept his rifle trained, jaw tight. "And why'd you come *here*?"
Stowey spat near Shane's boot. "Camp's full."
Elena's gaze locked on Lily, who'd emerged from the barn shadows with a length of weathered pine plank in hand. "Saw your wolves rip through those dead things. Figured... figured you could protect us."
Inside the barn, Fen leaned against the doorframe, stitches burning. Saila pressed against his good leg, a low growl rumbling in her chest. The toddler in Leo's arms whimpered, eyes glassy with fever. Lily dropped the wood with a thud. "Kid's sick." Her voice cut through the tension. "Got meds?"
Elena shook her head, tears streaking the grime on her cheeks. "Ran out days ago. the baby need milk his been with out milk for a few days, it brought the fever"
Stowey spat again. "We ain't running a charity."
Rick lowered his shotgun fully. "Sophia, fetch the goat milk from the cooler. Glenn—help Tomas inside the barn."
Shane snorted. "Inviting trouble."
Rick shot him a look. "Kid's dying. We help."
Tomas collapsed as Glenn reached him, a ragged cry tearing from his lips. His ankle was a mess of swollen, purple flesh and torn fabric, the skin split where rusted metal teeth had bitten deep. Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder. "Bear trap's still clamped?"
Elena nodded frantically. "Couldn't pry it off. Too weak."
Daryl jerked his chin toward the barn. "Get him on that hay bale. Need bolt cutters."
Lily was already moving, snatching the medical kit. She tossed Fen a roll of gauze. "Pressure on that wound. Don't bleed on the newcomers."
Inside the barn, chaos resumed. Sophia rushed in with a dented metal can of goat milk, handing it to Lily. Carl offered Leo his canteen. "For the baby?"
Leo nodded mutely, tipping drops onto the toddler's cracked lips. The infant sucked weakly. Saila whined, nudging her own pup toward Carl as if offering kinship.
Lily knelt beside Tomas, peeling back the blood-soaked rag wrapped around his ankle. The stench of infection hit her—sweet and rotten. The bear trap's jaws were crusted with gore, the metal fused to swollen flesh. "Daryl. Now."
Daryl returned with bolt cutters, the steel gleaming dully in the lantern light. "Hold him." Glenn and Rick pinned Tomas's thrashing legs. Daryl wedged the cutters' jaws against the trap's hinge. With a grunt and a sharp *crack*, the metal gave way. Tomas screamed, his body arching off the hay.
Elena sobbed into her hands. "Is it off?"
"Off," Daryl confirmed, tossing the mangled trap aside. "Leg's bad."
Lily poured moonshine over the wound. Tomas howled, veins bulging in his neck. Pus and black blood bubbled out. She packed the gashes with gauze, her movements clinical. "Infection's deep. Needs antibiotics."
Stowey loomed in the doorway, shotgun still cradled. "We got sulfa pills. That's it."
Rick met his stare. "Then get 'em."
Shane scoffed. "And when our own get sick?"
"The kid first," Rick said flatly.
Outside, Sophia's voice cut through the argument. "Movement again! Near the riverbank—more than three this time."
Glenn scrambled onto a feed bin, peering out a high window. "Shadows. Ten, maybe twelve. Spreading out."
Daryl snatched his crossbow. "Raiders. Told you."
Saila growled, hackles rising. Fen pushed off the wall, ignoring Lily's warning glare. "They saw the fire. Saw the hunt." He grabbed a rusted pitchfork. "They're here for the meat."
Elena clutched Leo closer. "The Sickeners. They track the weak."
Lily tied off Tomas's bandage. "How many?"
"Twenty? Thirty? They travel in packs." Elena trembled. "They eat... everything."
Stowey racked his shotgun. "Bar the gates! Shane, Daryl—west fence. Rick, east. Wolves with me."
Carl handed Leo the goat milk can. "Hide behind the hay."
As the camp surged into action, the distant crunch of gravel echoed—a sportscar engine revving, high and unnatural in the stillness. Headlights speared through the trees.
Shane froze. "Who the hell drives a *Corvette* now?"
The engine roared closer, drowning out the moans of the dead.
---
lily shift into her wolf form and jump the fence and went to salking the uninvited guess.